Knowing
what’s to come, I start the day healthily with a 5km run then breakfast of
muesli and yoghurt, with a fresh coffee from the moka pot. I do some tidying, some reading, then before
I know where the time’s gone, Jill arrives.
We sit having a chat for a while before my stomach tells me it’s time
for brunch. There are many places to
choose from, but we go for Casa de Moor.
Jill has smoked salmon while I have a fabulous falafel wrap, all served
nicely by Magda. Somewhere a distant
bell sounds and I find myself ordering a pint of Efes. And so it begins.
James
is on his way, so we move a couple of doors along to the Plough. It’s still quiet so we grab a table and order
drinks. Gemma, the landlady, is bustling
around, letting everyone know she’s the boss.
The lovely Georgia is behind the bar and pulls me a delicious pint of
Northern Monk Eternal before attending to Jill’s cappuccino. James arrives and has his usual Camden
Pale. The gang’s all here and the
anticipation is rising; I’m even feeling a little giddy.
With
plenty of time in our pockets, we leave the pub and climb into Jill’s car for
the journey to Salford. Thankfully the motorway
isn’t busy and we scoot round to our parking spot without trouble. Jill goes off to get a coffee, James queues
for a hotdog – covered in mustard which he will try, and fail, to keep from
spilling down his front – while I head for the tent and pick up two pints of
Seven Brothers Session Pale. Yum.
Once
everything’s settled down, it’s time to look to see who’s in. There’s Chairman Joe in his shorts, as
always, Roger B occupying his chair like a throne, Trevor and Sammo warming
their voices up for the match. Carol’s
hugging everyone who comes within arms’ reach while David looks benignly on. We have a quick chat about walking. Anne and Mike have travelled up and we get
hugs and handshakes, or both. Col and
Anthony are quietly putting the world to rights, with Andy grinning by their
side. Graham strolls past, looking
above everyone’s heads and making some sardonic remark about the
opposition. It’s great to see Dawn and
Tigger (the former more than the latter, of course) and we stop a while for a
catch-up.
Before
we know it, kick-off is approaching and it’s time to go in. There’s still time to pick up a couple more
Session Pales and to watch the lads warming up – Faf! Denny! AJ! – before going
up to the seats. Ian, Val and Bob greet
us at the end of the row, Henry and Richard, for once, are already in their
seats on the other side, tucking into pies.
There’s a good crowd, with everyone packed in and the atmosphere
building. You never know what will
happen with Sale; they can be playing really well and have all the cards in
their hands, but we’ve still been taken to the cleaners. Graham came up with the word
Hoffnungsangst, German for ‘fearful hope’.
It’s the permanent state of a Sale fan.
The
explosions go off, the junior mascots wave their flags, the boys run out to a
tremendous cheer. The game flies by with
entertaining controversy, stunning tries and the regulation squeaky-bum finish,
where we could so easily come off second-best.
Denny scores a trademark leaping-salmon try in the corner, Faf dashes
all over the pitch like a berserker, Akker scores a hat-trick (as usual),
Bryn’s magnetic beard steals lineout after lineout. The ref-link mic picks up Wayne Barnes asking
Faf for haircare tips while he allows fifteen reset scrums on the Sale 5m line
before James Philips drives the entire opposition pack backwards with only a
little help from Ross Harrison. Cliffy
comes on in the second half and indicates precisely which blade of grass his
box kick will land on for Byron to chase.
Sam James creates every try, like a magician pulling endless marvels out
of his top hat. Jono Ross tackles
everything and, when he is substituted, continues to tackle the concrete of the
stadium – much to its structural detriment – unable to stop himself.
It’s
an excellent victory for the boys in blue and we’re full of cheer. We’ve screamed our heads off all match,
careless of the damage to our larynxes and the sore throats we’ll have in the
morning. Before leaving, we walk round
the pitch to clap and congratulate the lads.
Jono always shakes hands, Sam stops for a chat, Cliffy asks after me,
Faf poses with everyone. It’s time to
say goodbye to the Sale crew for now, and head into the evening.
Back
in Heaton Moor, Jill drops me and James off at the Plough while dumping the
car. G&Ts for those two, a
Thornbridge Green Mountain NEIPA for me.
That takes us nicely into dinner time so it’s over the road to the
Heatons Tandoori. Saleem greets us at
the bar, Ronnie, Milton and Hadji say hi as they pass, Abbi – the boss – runs
over to welcome us in. There’s a
refreshing Pinot Grigio to go with our meals; lamb, potato and cauliflower for
Jill; fish Konkani for James; lamb saag with chapatis for me. At the end there are complimentary cognacs,
or ‘naughty’ liqueur coffee for Jill; Manik, the head chef, pops out for a
chat, then James is off for his train.
Jill and I nip into Bottle to say hello to Corin, the landlord, and for
a last LHG Sky Above Pale and gin fizz.
It’s late. It’s time for
bed. What a great day it’s been, one of
the best ways to spend your time – being with friends, being thoroughly
entertained, being part of the Sale family.
