By Odd Shaped Balls
January 20 2003

In September when the Heineken Cup groups and fixtures were announced we were excited and then disappointed. What a fantastic group - all twelve matches have the pedigree to produce a classic match between good sides. Disappointed because the away match in January that we really wanted was to the balmy shores of south-west France. As Ulster always play their home matches on Friday evening, the chances of getting to the match receded. Why all the fuss? Because January is the month of birth of the good lady wife who, not only has put up with me for more than 20 years, is a good stick in her own right and loves Saints and rugby in equal measure. So there was no birthday treat on the cards.

October brought the first two rounds of matches with Biarritz winning in Cardiff and Saints securing a highly proficient victory over Ulster. After two rounds Cardiff were rooted to the bottom of the group with Biarritz on two wins thanks to an injury-time penalty by Yachvili. It looked as though qualification was going to be down to away fixtures - avantage les biarrots. The Cardiff double-header looked to be the most important 8 days in the season to date. A game plan that seemed to have tight somewhere in the title secured the two points against Cardiff at home but it looked inadequate for when home advantage was switched. Next week we put into operation the 'wide' game plan and beat Cardiff in the first quarter. Biarritz and Ulster had shared the spoils of their double-header 30-30-15 in our three-handed game of tennis.

By now other arrangements had been made to celebrate the birthday and having been a member of the Howlin Faction in September the season seemed about to pass without an away trip in the Heineken Cup. Christmas came and Gloucester went away with the league points. We capitulated to London Irish and all the birthday celebrations had changed again - there were none. I needed a strategy; I needed a plan.

What if…? Mothers of schoolfriends were contacted. The secretary secretly cleared the diary for Friday. Easy Jet came up trumps with reasonably priced flights at sensible times and Jury's Inn seemed to represent value for money in the nigh perfect location. Tickets came from the web-site, though I thought the surprise had been blown. The only legible post-mark that week had IRFU, Ulster Branch and Ravenhill standing out like beacons (to me, at least).

Biarritz came and, thanks to Jar Jar and Jorgo, left with nothing. We feared for Cardiff as once more they lost at home this time to Ulster - 40-30-30 but advantage to Saints. The deciding match would be at Ravenhill. Saints would be in the box seat but could Ulster make home field tell with their magnificent support and deliver something special? Could they deliver something to knock out the pride of the East Midlands? The banter on the boards had been something special with Beef using up the whole UK fisheries quota for January in one expedition and Alec Adoo MBE extending a warm and generous welcome combined with a fine sense of humour. There are honourable mentions for Ballpark, Ding Dong2U, Sonz and El Monty.

The morning arrived and as ticket after voucher after flight confirmation fluttered out of the envelope realisation dawned that this was to be no ordinary birthday. Like the course of true love the execution of a surprise trip away does not run smoothly. Viral ailments, an allergic reaction and sheer bad timing had us scurrying for the executive car park at Luton Airport and testing out the roadworthiness of the suitcase wheels. The next thing top be tested would be the now infamous thirty-minute check-in rule. Phew! Three minutes to spare.

The 11:05 was littered with various reprobates sporting GB&G and not all of them were associated with Mr Powell's Crooked Hooker outing. Would you believe it - first bag off the belt? It's never happened before and I don't expect it to happen again - ever. Into the city where the bus stopped at the most bombed hotel in the world - ours a mere two blocks away. The bag unpacked and, on the advice of the Ulster message-boarders, we were out to a long, leisurely, dare I say boozy, luncheon somewhere along the Lisburn Road. The food and wine were both excellent and ample and the taxi took us back to the hotel with just enough time to don the extra layers of clothing required for the evening's entertainment.

Before the match the tent was GB&G, the predominant drink was black and it was hale, fellow and well met as travellers caught sight of a familiar face and ordered another glass. As mellow as you like and in high spirits we walked the length of the stand bumping into (literally) saintly friends and to our seats. There was much evidence of the travelling support around and about but it seemed to me that we were chaperoned. We were little islands of Saints surrounded on all sides by a sea of white and red. We gave voice and were immediately drowned out by the home fans chanting support for their team. As we became more raucous to try and make ourselves heard in response, it became surreal - we are in Belfast, why are the fans opposite chanting, "Glass Door"?

You will all have your own view of the game and the debate goes on elsewhere but for my twopenn'orth we were beaten by the better side on the night. The fact that Humphreys missed four penalties probably cost them more than the 12 points they represented, as despite possession and position they continually foundered on the wall of the Saints' defence. Those precious early points left on the kicking tee meant that they were never able to relax. The pressure was on the players who aren't really quite good enough at this level (three first choice three-quarters were missing) and they failed to perform under the pressure the Saints' defence exerted. Had they someone other than Tony Adams (Arsenal & England) playing at 12, they might have had a cricket score and been going to Toulouse instead of us.

In a close game we can always point at the odd incident and say it changed the match - let us just be thankful that for all M. Dumé's fallibility, (and he's a lot better than most we've had this season) we have qualified for the next round. Now we must pray that the god of rugby refereeing decides to favour us.

As one heroic deed follows another we were part of that happy band of supporters from both sides that took on the might of the Ravenhill beer supply and won. First the Guinness then the brown beer (it's certainly not bitter) and finally, the sponsor's tincture gave up the ghost. A call to the excellent Belfast cab system and we were in the Crown with many other like-minded people. There was the craic in all its glory - expert bar staff, reasonable prices, an unlimited supply of the black stuff, lively conversation and grand hospitality. There were times in the evening it was nigh impossible to buy drinks for being bought them. All in all, they were a wonderful crowd. When the lights finally went out and the towels appeared on the taps we staggered into the night and made the short step to our hotel and turned in for the night.

I think I can say that it was a birthday to remember.