The Sunday papers were at their ridiculous pro-County best again. Celtic had lost at home to Kilmarnock for the first time in 57 years. The SPL title was now genuinely a four way fight. But the back page headlines, and front pages of the supplements? No, not even Hearts salvaging a draw. But County being denied a win and a pic of Richard Brittain. Chortle.
There's a definite pro-County conspiracy in the media. Chipper and I have noticed it down the years. The evening highlights of Dundee United's Scottish Cup win over County led to discussion of which County goal in the semi-final was best. They'd been on live on tv and hitting the headlines in the papers constantly ever since. And I haven't even mentioned Rob MacLean or the weather girl.
Media domination from Dingwall aside, today was going to be different. The England Knights were up against the Scotland Bravehearts, which sounded more like a script from Family Guy. Up for grabs was the European rugby league Championship. It may have sounded like a walkover but the hosts had won 5 out of the 11 matches played against each other. The Auld Enemy brought out the best in the Scots.
There was a healthy London Broncos contingent too. Kieran Dixon and Dan Sarginson were starters for England, whilst the Scotland bench included a Broncos coach. Watching it all would be Broncos head coach and miracle worker Tony Rea. Plus Chipper and I.
First of all we had to find the ground. The name alone made the entire trip worthwhile. Meggetland. I could see Cammy saying to Gary Tank Commnder "Just imagine it, VIP's, comfy seats, kings for the day, Meggetland." You just have to go. Meggetland. Fantastic.
Tracking the place down was problematic at best. The one bus that supposedly went to Meggetland didn't run on a Sunday. Or a Saturday, either, which I'd suggest were the two days when most sport is played. Was this place just a myth? We bought two elixirs of life, glass bottles of Bru, and pondered our next move.
I, in the back of my mind, though the place name of Colinton had cropped up in Meggetland folklore so we jumped on a bus in that direction. All I said was to look for something far out at a place that looked remotely like it had rugby posts. Or big neon signs that shouted "Welcome To Meggetland." though that was more in hope than expectation.
As time ticked by, the only rugby posts that came into view were at the ultra posh and brainy Heriot Watt uni. You needed a suit and tie just to look at the railings there. On the bus chuntered, where it was going, nobody knew. Well, not us. The magical mystery Meggetland tour was on and as mysterious as a very mysterious thingy.
Then I saw it. The Kilted Pig. It was a sign. Of the pub. Beyond that were vaguely rugby post shaped thingies so I chanced my arm. I asked the bus driver if Meggetland was round here. His face was blanker than a genuine expenses form in an MP's office.
We wandered in the vague direction of where I thought I'd seen the posts. By the roadside, we spotted the Boat Club lock-up. That'll come in handy around these parts. Then Chipper spotted it. A road sign. North Meggetland. We were almost there.
Behind that was a bridge over nothing. "That's Meggetland Bridge", chortled Chipper. We walked over it, and saw the sign confirming it. Meggetland Bridge, rising over nothing. The magic had already started.
And then, we rubbed our eyes, and smiled, were we really there? Yes, we were. "Welcome to Meggetland Sports Pavilion" it proudly said. Right alongside it was a bold 'No Entry' sign. Well, why wouldn't there be one? The magic had started and we hadn't even got in.
I spied a price thing at the turnstile that gave students a discount. Chipper duly got his card out and showed it to the gateman. Whose eyes literally crossed as he checked it. I started listening out for banjo tunes and wondered if I was going to be told I'd squeal like a piggy.
In the end, I just told him Chipper was a student in England, and as we still owned Scotland he's eligible. That went down well. The gateman snarled as he took our cash, the rest of his body catching up his eyes' crossness. Chortle.
The wonderment continued. We sat in a stand that kept neither the wind and the rain out. Directly above the England subs bench. Which was just literally a bench nailed down to concrete flooring. In front of us a pipe band blared tunelessly with the drummer seemingly believing he was in Riverdance.
To our right sat the Broncos coach Tony Rea. To our left, two Warrington fans, a team we hammered, that this blog faithfully recorded. As did my phone, which somehow played out the full time report from that game loudly. Could it get any more surreal? Yes. The Scotland fans sang the English national anthem as lustily as their own, without a single boo. The Magic of Meggetland was striking hard.
As were Scotland. 6-0 up in a matter of minutes. I looked down at the subs bench for their reaction. Doodling on a notepad and sending tweets and text messages was their response. This was beyond the odd. I check my Bru to make sure it wasn't accidentally laced with LSD. Or if it wasn't perhaps it should be.
England, however, take control, and bring a semblance of sanity to proceedings. Dan Sarginson helps himself to a couple of tries and by half time England are well in control, 28-12 ahead. In front of a crowd, with the European title at stake, that numbered around 150. Just one of those days. Again.
The half time entertainment consisted of a pipe band blare that nobody liked, either Scots, half a dozen English, or lone Aussie in the stand. That and the Edinburgh Eagles mascot, Eddie, walking around, flapping his wings disconsolately. So would I, though, if I had to be nearer to that pipe band.
When the noise stopped the band were greeted with a very polite but very stony silence. The band stood there expectantly yet still no applause. The silence was broken. By the band leader, who bawled at the crowd for having the temerity to not clap their awful racket. "Promise you'll leave and everyone will clap" came my shouted response. Chortles from around that stand. That old Meggetland Magic.
The second half was much the same as the first. Scotland battled well, had one or two canny players, but England were simply too good. Kieran Dixon put on the afterburners for one try. When he was subbed I commented to Chipper on what a good game he had. "Thank you", he replied, and sat on the bench. I'd forgotten the bench was just below us.
In fact, the only real Scotland menace was by the England bench. Some parents couldn't be bothered to use the spectator exits to find the toilets and instead just strolled down the side of the pitch, with their little kiddywinks in tow, whilst the subs were trying to warm up. The coach looked up at me and shook his head, wide eyed with how unreal the day was.
As with most rugby league games, there was try after try. 62-24 it finished in England's favour, who were presented with the trophy for becoming European champions. No fireworks at Meggetland. Just a giant cushion to lean on for the team celebration pics. Champions Meggetland style. Chipper and I decide to join in and wander onto the pitch.
Tony Rea was there, chatting away to his two Broncos champions. We simply have to walk over and have a chat. Tony is such a nice guy. Laid back, mildly spoken, up for a bit of banter like most Aussies. Dan Sarginson hears the Essex twang and asks "Have you come up all that way just for this?" Well, wouldn't anyone do that for a day out at Meggetland?
They looked decidedly impressed. Kieran Dixon shakes Chipper's hand and thanks him for turning up. This is gone beyond even the realms of Meggetland now. The players are now supporting the supporters. We leave them to their chat and celebrations. I get the feeling with those three at London Broncos, something my just be stirring at the Stoop next season. Top guys, all of them.
It's been another remarkable day out but now it's time to head for the hotel. No burger van in Meggetland so we are both parched and hungry. No worries though. Adjoining the funeral directors is, of course, a Tesco. That's for some reason selling Bru, Mars bars, and Walkers crisps at half price. Just too far beyond the realms of belief now.
We make our way back to the hotel, plenty of time for a meal and Sportscene. We watch Celtic get tonked off Kilmarnock. Rob Maclean gets the chat rolling. About how well Ross County have settled in the SPL. A Dundee United player chips in when County chat starts to fade. This is not 'just one of those days', I now realise. In Scotland, this is 'just how it is'.
And I love it to bits.
Scotland 24, England 62
There's a definite pro-County conspiracy in the media. Chipper and I have noticed it down the years. The evening highlights of Dundee United's Scottish Cup win over County led to discussion of which County goal in the semi-final was best. They'd been on live on tv and hitting the headlines in the papers constantly ever since. And I haven't even mentioned Rob MacLean or the weather girl.Media domination from Dingwall aside, today was going to be different. The England Knights were up against the Scotland Bravehearts, which sounded more like a script from Family Guy. Up for grabs was the European rugby league Championship. It may have sounded like a walkover but the hosts had won 5 out of the 11 matches played against each other. The Auld Enemy brought out the best in the Scots.
There was a healthy London Broncos contingent too. Kieran Dixon and Dan Sarginson were starters for England, whilst the Scotland bench included a Broncos coach. Watching it all would be Broncos head coach and miracle worker Tony Rea. Plus Chipper and I.
First of all we had to find the ground. The name alone made the entire trip worthwhile. Meggetland. I could see Cammy saying to Gary Tank Commnder "Just imagine it, VIP's, comfy seats, kings for the day, Meggetland." You just have to go. Meggetland. Fantastic.
Tracking the place down was problematic at best. The one bus that supposedly went to Meggetland didn't run on a Sunday. Or a Saturday, either, which I'd suggest were the two days when most sport is played. Was this place just a myth? We bought two elixirs of life, glass bottles of Bru, and pondered our next move.I, in the back of my mind, though the place name of Colinton had cropped up in Meggetland folklore so we jumped on a bus in that direction. All I said was to look for something far out at a place that looked remotely like it had rugby posts. Or big neon signs that shouted "Welcome To Meggetland." though that was more in hope than expectation.
As time ticked by, the only rugby posts that came into view were at the ultra posh and brainy Heriot Watt uni. You needed a suit and tie just to look at the railings there. On the bus chuntered, where it was going, nobody knew. Well, not us. The magical mystery Meggetland tour was on and as mysterious as a very mysterious thingy.
Then I saw it. The Kilted Pig. It was a sign. Of the pub. Beyond that were vaguely rugby post shaped thingies so I chanced my arm. I asked the bus driver if Meggetland was round here. His face was blanker than a genuine expenses form in an MP's office.
We wandered in the vague direction of where I thought I'd seen the posts. By the roadside, we spotted the Boat Club lock-up. That'll come in handy around these parts. Then Chipper spotted it. A road sign. North Meggetland. We were almost there. Behind that was a bridge over nothing. "That's Meggetland Bridge", chortled Chipper. We walked over it, and saw the sign confirming it. Meggetland Bridge, rising over nothing. The magic had already started.
And then, we rubbed our eyes, and smiled, were we really there? Yes, we were. "Welcome to Meggetland Sports Pavilion" it proudly said. Right alongside it was a bold 'No Entry' sign. Well, why wouldn't there be one? The magic had started and we hadn't even got in.
I spied a price thing at the turnstile that gave students a discount. Chipper duly got his card out and showed it to the gateman. Whose eyes literally crossed as he checked it. I started listening out for banjo tunes and wondered if I was going to be told I'd squeal like a piggy. In the end, I just told him Chipper was a student in England, and as we still owned Scotland he's eligible. That went down well. The gateman snarled as he took our cash, the rest of his body catching up his eyes' crossness. Chortle.
The wonderment continued. We sat in a stand that kept neither the wind and the rain out. Directly above the England subs bench. Which was just literally a bench nailed down to concrete flooring. In front of us a pipe band blared tunelessly with the drummer seemingly believing he was in Riverdance.
To our right sat the Broncos coach Tony Rea. To our left, two Warrington fans, a team we hammered, that this blog faithfully recorded. As did my phone, which somehow played out the full time report from that game loudly. Could it get any more surreal? Yes. The Scotland fans sang the English national anthem as lustily as their own, without a single boo. The Magic of Meggetland was striking hard.As were Scotland. 6-0 up in a matter of minutes. I looked down at the subs bench for their reaction. Doodling on a notepad and sending tweets and text messages was their response. This was beyond the odd. I check my Bru to make sure it wasn't accidentally laced with LSD. Or if it wasn't perhaps it should be.
England, however, take control, and bring a semblance of sanity to proceedings. Dan Sarginson helps himself to a couple of tries and by half time England are well in control, 28-12 ahead. In front of a crowd, with the European title at stake, that numbered around 150. Just one of those days. Again.
The half time entertainment consisted of a pipe band blare that nobody liked, either Scots, half a dozen English, or lone Aussie in the stand. That and the Edinburgh Eagles mascot, Eddie, walking around, flapping his wings disconsolately. So would I, though, if I had to be nearer to that pipe band. When the noise stopped the band were greeted with a very polite but very stony silence. The band stood there expectantly yet still no applause. The silence was broken. By the band leader, who bawled at the crowd for having the temerity to not clap their awful racket. "Promise you'll leave and everyone will clap" came my shouted response. Chortles from around that stand. That old Meggetland Magic.
The second half was much the same as the first. Scotland battled well, had one or two canny players, but England were simply too good. Kieran Dixon put on the afterburners for one try. When he was subbed I commented to Chipper on what a good game he had. "Thank you", he replied, and sat on the bench. I'd forgotten the bench was just below us.
In fact, the only real Scotland menace was by the England bench. Some parents couldn't be bothered to use the spectator exits to find the toilets and instead just strolled down the side of the pitch, with their little kiddywinks in tow, whilst the subs were trying to warm up. The coach looked up at me and shook his head, wide eyed with how unreal the day was.
As with most rugby league games, there was try after try. 62-24 it finished in England's favour, who were presented with the trophy for becoming European champions. No fireworks at Meggetland. Just a giant cushion to lean on for the team celebration pics. Champions Meggetland style. Chipper and I decide to join in and wander onto the pitch.Tony Rea was there, chatting away to his two Broncos champions. We simply have to walk over and have a chat. Tony is such a nice guy. Laid back, mildly spoken, up for a bit of banter like most Aussies. Dan Sarginson hears the Essex twang and asks "Have you come up all that way just for this?" Well, wouldn't anyone do that for a day out at Meggetland?
They looked decidedly impressed. Kieran Dixon shakes Chipper's hand and thanks him for turning up. This is gone beyond even the realms of Meggetland now. The players are now supporting the supporters. We leave them to their chat and celebrations. I get the feeling with those three at London Broncos, something my just be stirring at the Stoop next season. Top guys, all of them.
It's been another remarkable day out but now it's time to head for the hotel. No burger van in Meggetland so we are both parched and hungry. No worries though. Adjoining the funeral directors is, of course, a Tesco. That's for some reason selling Bru, Mars bars, and Walkers crisps at half price. Just too far beyond the realms of belief now.We make our way back to the hotel, plenty of time for a meal and Sportscene. We watch Celtic get tonked off Kilmarnock. Rob Maclean gets the chat rolling. About how well Ross County have settled in the SPL. A Dundee United player chips in when County chat starts to fade. This is not 'just one of those days', I now realise. In Scotland, this is 'just how it is'.
And I love it to bits.
Scotland 24, England 62
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