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Rugby? Aye, why not? (Why do you support Sale?)


By Angela Traynor
July 15 2016

Next in our series of keep-the-board-alive-while-we-wait-for-next-season stories comes from the ticket-office-then-shop-then-ticket-office-again powerhouse that is Our Angie. Why DO you support Sale?

Around 17 years ago, back in 1999, the match at Stretford Cricket Club was called off because of rain, and so some of the lads decided to head to Heywood Road to watch Sale play. Col went with them, and after a few weekends of being left home alone I decided that I wanted a bit of it too. We used to stand in the Birtles at the clubhouse end, and I always tried to make sure that I didn’t get some giant in front of me or I could see very little. One game I decided that I’d stand near the beer shed so I could have a different view. Big mistake. I was handily placed for a can of beer but as for a view of the match? I can only recall one moment from the game, when I saw the head and shoulders of Lord Jason of Robinson galloping down the wing directly towards me, ball securely under his arm. He then disappeared, for all I knew he could have fallen down a rabbit hole, then he leapt up to celebrate the try he’d just scored. I saw more of the game when I went into the clubhouse to use the loo, as it was on tv! (the game, not the loo) When the ‘temporary’ stand was built, we moved into there and at last I could see what was going on.

Fast forward a couple of years, and at Lesley Road the Stretford CC lot were talking about booking onto one of the convoy of coaches arranged for supporters for the Parker Pen Shield Final in 2002 against Pontypridd. After getting a list and the money together it was booked and we filled it. Just two years previously, this rugby union club from a ‘small town in Cheshire’ had finished 11th in the premiership, and one year previously had managed to finish 10th. Now, in 2002, we were second in the league and in the play-offs, and also off to a final! After a tremendous game where Sale ran out 25-22 winners, we got back on the coach and set off back to HR. On arrival, the clubhouse soon became packed and so we moved into the upstairs bar, which was closed, but given an opportunity to extract money from our pockets it was soon open. I needed the loo and set off downstairs but just a couple of steps later I look up to see a man-mountain coming the opposite way. Remembering my highway code – give way to oncoming vehicles going uphill – I promptly reversed and allowed Apollo Perelini past. His wrists were as thick as my forearms! He smiled and said “Thanks!” and I said “No problem, you’re bigger than me!” There was a marquee on the pitch and, after those using it had vacated it, it was commandeered by the supporters and players. Unfortunately for me I was on tablets that didn’t allow me to partake of alcoholic beverages (chronic liver damage would ensue apparently) so I just watched everyone else get more and more plastered. That was the evening when Apollo gave Robbie Dickson his medal, as thanks for everything he’d done for him and the club. Such a generous and thoughtful gesture from the gentle giant.

And that’s how Sale Sharks and rugby union got under my skin. Brought up on football, as a kid the only time I had anything to do with rugby was late on a Saturday afternoon, when the rugby scores came up on the telly. It was always a race between me and my sister to see, and then shout out, the name of whichever team had scored the most points. Oh, and occasionally watching some bits of international rugby matches, with players like Bill Beaumont, Gareth Edwards, and later Gavin Hastings. Mmm, Gavin Hastings… sorry, mind was wandering. Let’s not forget Bill on A Question of Sport either, taking on squeaky Willie Carson, giggling Emlyn Hughes and the mullet-haired Ian Botham.

So, to paraphrase Reg in Life of Brian, what has rugby ever done for me? It has cleaned out my purse/bank account on many occasions, but has given me so many wonderful experiences in return that I could never do justice to them all, or remember them without the hundreds of photographs I have. It has given me friendships that have lasted years and continue to do so, despite trying to shake some of them off, and occasions when I’ve laughed so much I have almost passed out!

What about travel? I’ve been to places I would never have ever been to without the reason of rugby. Petraca gave me a beautiful sunny day out in Venice spent mooching about with friends, having drinks in out of the way bars. Travelling along the Grand Canal at night, the lights on in the houses and bars was a truly magical experience. The view from the top of the Porte de Peyrou Arc d’Triomphe in Montpellier; to the North the Pic St Loup vineyards, to the South the Étang de Vic and the Mediterranean, it’s a place where tourists very rarely get access to. The spectacular view of the snow-covered Pyrénées from the Boulevard de Pyrénées in Pau, while sat outside a café having a Viennese hot chocolate – photographs can’t do it justice. A trip up Monte Igueldo on the funicular railway to take in the stunning panorama of San Sebastian and La Concha bay, the clear blue sea forming one long curved wave breaking on the golden sand. The beauty of Worcester, Gloucester and Exeter cathedrals along with the many churches I have visited in France is only surpassed by the sense of calm and quiet reflection felt in these places. The National Arboretum at Westonbirt, where there was a huge cherry tree in full blossom; as you got closer the buzzing noise increased as it was covered in bees, all collecting pollen.

Okay, so there’s the travel, the views, the funicular railways, the churches and the cathedrals. But other than that, what has rugby ever done for me? Well, there’s the food and drink. The owner of the restaurant in Agen that was so proud of his fois gras that he brought a huge tray of whole livers to our table to show us – it must have been worth well in excess of £2,000. The shellfish cooked a la plancha with mushrooms, shallots and herbs in Castres was absolutely one of THE best dishes I have ever had, anywhere, ever. The Clarinbridge oysters we had at Moran’s Oyster Cottage, washed down a pint of Guinness, were sublime, sweet and salty. The confit de canard in Toulouse, the crispy skin and meat, and the duck fat fried chips, I can taste it now. The bottle of local rosé wine we shared in a pavement café one sunny afternoon in Nimes, it was dry, refreshing and minerally and perfectly complimented the warm weather. A childhood memory re-lived; eating candy floss not at a fair but outside a bar beside the Christmas Market in Castres. Bavette steak served with crispy chips, dressed salad and a jug of freshly made Bernaise sauce for about seven quid in Pau. Being treated to a sample of pre-cask strength whisky, weighing in at 80% proof, by Paul the landlord in the multi-award winning Bon Accord in Glasgow was a special moment. The salted caramel crème brulée in Oyannax, Tigger nearly lost a couple of fingers in his attempt to try it without asking first.

Alright, alright. So there’s the travel, the views, the funicular railways, the churches and the cathedrals, the fois gras, the bavette steaks, the wines, the oysters and the desserts. But other than that, what has rugby ever done for me? The laughs. Glyn: “What’s got six legs and if it fell out of a tree it’s kill you?” Kate: “An alligator?” Glyn: “No, a snooker table! Alligator?!?” Being subjected to “Jingitty jing hee-haw hee-haw it’s Dominic the Donkey, Jingitty jing hee-haw hee-haw, the Italian Christmas Donkey!” in Sarlat la Caneda, then in Castres and ever since. Thanks Glyn. At the shrine in Knock, wondering where our friend Stuart was, then spotting him as he walked, camera held aloft, through the back of shot as SKY tv interviewed a cardinal about the demise in health of the Pope. Walking through the old town in San Sebastian, where a ‘street artist’ is crouched under a blanket holding two slats of wood, clacking them together like a mouth. Kev turned to us and with a stunned expression said “Can everyone else see that, or is it just me?” In Toulouse, using Fabian Pelous as a climbing frame, in an effort to get us both to the same height for a photo while Joanne laughed. Adjusting all the stools in the Beer Cellar in Exeter so when Dawn came back from the loo hers was really high and ours low and she couldn’t fathom out why. Oh and Tigger, that time in Agen when the bloke full of beer decided he was going to question Dimes about the performance against Exeter? That was AFTER the match, not the day before; don’t you recall yourself and a few others forming a ‘wall’ to restrain me as I was going to give him what for?

There are a trillion more reasons, but that’s what rugby has done for me. It is THE greatest game, with the bestest supporters, and engenders respect, loyalty and friendship. It has given me friends; great, kind friends who are generous with their time, their humour and their company. It has made me cry with sorrow for matches lost and players left, but also with happiness for trophies won and victories wrenched from the jaws of defeat.

It is MY game, and Sale Sharks is my club. Nothing else comes close. My purse may be empty come the end of the season but my head and heart are full of great memories. Let’s get ready to make some more!

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