When you take down your map to plan the trip, the first thing you notice is that Camborne is a long way away. You probably never realised just how much England there is in that knobbly bit down there. Trust me, it's a long way. And that is why at 5:45AM on a November Saturday I am heading down the M1. DartagnanTyke and AramisTyke have gone on ahead the previous evening, so the plan is to rendezvous and head on together.

We meet at 8:00 and it becomes apparent that AramisTyke has been in the wars. A beer-related altercation with a tree has created a large gash in his head and he is sporting a splendid bandage. He looks like a casualty from the Somme, but he is insisting he is carrying on to Camborne. DartagnanTyke, who has been looking forward to this for months, is encouraging him. We stick the wounded in the back of the car and set off.

The M5 is long, but we are surprised at how quickly we fetch up in
Cornwall. We pause for an early cream tea, and the way in which AramisTyke gets outside it suggests that he is recovering (he later manages to sneakily abandon his bandage). Penzance is reached soon after 1:00, and we dump bags and head down to the Mennaye, where Mounts Bay are playing Southend.

The MuskeTykes like a proper rugby club, and this is just that. The Mennaye was once the home ground of Penzance and Newlyn who (this is where it gets complicated) are now playing in Camborne. Their Second XV was transformed into a league club to help them find fixtures and, as Mounts Bay, climbed up the leagues to National 2. The relationship between the clubs seems a little strained, with the majority of Bay supporters telling us that they
hoped Leeds would "stuff 'em" up at Camborne.

DartagnanTyke is a closet Southend fan, so he becomes their vocal support, expect for breaks for beer and pasties. AramisTyke and I help support Bay. After a good start, Southend find themselves on the wrong end of a bit of a hammering, helped by the referee's enthusiasm for penalty tries. The beer and pasties are excellent, and the locals are friendly in the club-house. A good start to the weekend.

Sunday started warm and sunny, which we hope bodes well for the afternoon. A leisurely stroll along the sea front takes us to the station, where we are sold tickets to Camborne without having to state our destination. One coach on the train is already half full of Tykes followers, so we join them for the short trip up the line. We learn that our colleagues have been spending the last two days perfecting their pub crawl around Penzance; their plan is to do it again this evening, but get it right this time.

At Camborne, we undertake the long walk to the Railway for a glass of beer or twp. A Welsh chap in a Tykes top arrives shortly after 12, and receives a good round of applause. Apparently this trip is only four miles longer than his normal trip to a home game. There's devotion.

Beers are drunk until about 1:00, when it is time to walk to the ground. Once inside, beers are got from the strategically positioned huts, and we assist the Tykes kicking practice. Everyone seems present, with Blackett and Buckers also warming up, presumably in case of injuries.

If you were just wanting the match report, START PAYING ATTENTION NOW!

Camborne has sprouted a new stand since our last visit, so the mass of travelling Tykes ended up in a corner. The pre-match entertainment included a band in kilts, a good deal of singing about Trelawny and a mascot that did not frighten the children. Good stuff.

The Tykes started as announced, attacking the end where we were stationed. I missed the first try because, taking my duties seriously, I was trying to work out how to start my stopwatch. DartagnanTyke tells me that the Cornish kicked off, Country caught the ball above his head, and ran up the other end and scored. It was 9 seconds on my watch. The Good Doctor converted, and
it's 7-0 with a minute played.

Cornish kicked off again, Leeds gathered the ball and spun it wide to the right. Quick recycling saw Sparky go over. The Good Doctor missed the kick, but it was still 12-0 after three minutes.

Then it all went wrong. Cornish kicked off and the Tykes managed to lose possession. As soon as Cornish drove forward and were tackled, the Tykes were penalised, clearly to their bemusement. A second penalty was kickable, and led to Rawlo listening to a clear warning. Jones kicked the kick, and it was 12-3.

The referee had found his whistle by now, and on 13 minutes a clearly baffled Wine Gum was on his way to the bin. It was kickable again, 12-6. The penalties kept coming, but mostly out of kicking range. On 20 minutes, even Leeds were awarded one, but the kick was missed. The 23rd minute saw another one for Cornish to make it 12-9, and another on 26 made matters level at 12-12.The last saw Vicks head to the bin, just as Wine Gum had emerged.  A certain amount of ironic cheering from the Tykes fans greeted a
Leeds penalty on 31, which the Good Doctor slotted to get things to 15-13.

I missed the second try, because I was in the pasty queue. DartagnanTyke tells me that Fosi made a break on the Leeds 22, Shrek took it on, and some good work put Biggsy in at the corner. The Good Doctor kicked the goal to make it 22-12.

The referee felt that another penalty was needed before the half time break, though, and he duly obliged in the 42nd minute when HP was pinged for not rolling away with six Cornishmen sat on his legs. 22-15.

22-15 at the half and, given the penalty count (Tykes 2, Cornish well more than 2) the Tykes supporters were pleased. Strong words were most probably said in the Tykes dressing room.

Leeds started the second half brightly, getting a kickable penalty on three minutes, which the Good Doctor popped over to bring us to 25-15. Little did we think that this would be the Tykes' last score!

A consistent flow of penalties kept Cornish supplied with chances to threaten the Leeds line for the next 15 minutes. This kept the play down at our end, but by now we would much rather have been peering into the Camborne gloom at the far end. A kick on 14 minutes was missed, the next on 21 was kicked to the corner. This was Cornish as we remember them, with a rolling maul (remember those?) driving their hooker over. The kick was missed, something that was to prove crucial. 25-20.

The Cornishmen now clearly thought that they could win this, but the Tykes had other ideas. The next 20 minutes saw some simply awesome defence, with only the occasional trip into the Cornish half. By now, the Tykes had clearly worked out what the referee wanted to see and, while the penalties still came, they were getting rarer. On 30 minutes, Leeds managed an attack, but
a knock-on in a good position put an end to the respite.

The 34th minute saw the Cornish get another penalty but, rather than kicking, they went for the corner. Rhys Jones, their stand-off, seemed to have taken a bit of a bang, and possibly was not confident. The Tykes held firm with more awesome defence, until the referee decided a penalty was required. This was in front, so on 38 minutes it was 25-22.

The next ten minutes were very long minutes. Leeds managed to get the kick off to the other end, but Cornish were not long in getting back to the Leeds 22. More epic defence was shown, with amazing discipline not to concede the penalty that would have given Cornish the game.

On 48 minutes (I am guessing my watch does not work properly, where all this injury time came from is a mystery), the Tykes managed to get the ball off the field on half way. There were bodies all over the place. The ball went loose after the throw in and, on 50 minutes 23 seconds by my watch, the referee decided enough was enough. A 25-22 win.

This was a simply epic game in terms of intensity and emotion. Not one for the rugby purist, maybe, but nothing at all missing in terms of excitement. The beer and pasties were good too.

What do we take from this? The Cornish are a good side, and any win on their patch is a good win. The penalty count is a clear concern; the referee saw something that all the other referees Leeds have had this season did not. Key and Backy must do some serious video watching to find out what was going
wrong. The upsides were the defence, awesome at times, and clear signs of a fantastic team spirit. At the end, we in the Tykes enclave were proud of the team.

If you only wanted to know about the match, LOOK AWAY NOW ...

The Cornish can do post-match entertainment too. The singing from their beer tent defies description and embodies the immense pride these folk clearly feel in their team and their county. That and the beer and the pasties.

We needed to calm down, so we got some beer and stood around outside the tent. Cornish folk came up to us, shook hands, chatted about the game, and wished us a good trip back.  Excellent people.

Lurking where we were, we were also able to see the Tykes players heading off. A quick exit was planned to get back to Leeds that evening, but every one of them was prepared to stop and chat (something that would cost a tenner at Headingley!). There was clearly some bemusement with the referee, and a general sense that we had got out of jail. A special mention must go to Tommy and Vicks, both of whom must have been battered and knackered, but both of whom were prepared to chat for a good five minutes. Vicks has a scratched cornea after Esher, by the way, but is fine; he said he should have passed, we agreed. Fosi went past twice, and is a gent.

Our departure was delayed slightly by the news that the remaining pasties were now a quid each (Headingley Marketing - you were there, right?). Then back to the Railway, and on "home" to Penzance for a bit more beer. It would be rude not too. The night ended in the Alexandra next to the Mennaye with a small group of Cornish fans. Hope we'll see them again soon.

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