The Day I Led My Ma and Pa to Saintlyness

The Craic
By Abbers
November 13 2002

My Dad, like any good Welshman, has rugby in his blood. He will be glued to the tele during the 6 Nations, fervently hoping that the Dragons will breath fire again, and takes a reasonable interest in the developments of the Home Nations sides with the World Cup on the Horizon.

As usual, I had no idea what to get for his birthday last month, so decided to make the most of the 2 for 1 ticket offer and take both him and Mum to the Madejski for their first taste of professional club rugby and, more importantly, the Saints match day experience. Their last appearance at a live game of rugby had been when they both worked in London in the late 60s and early 70s, so they weren’t quite sure what to expect from the 21st century version that we know and love.

The day began in the most unpromising fashion with storms ravaging most of the country. Fortunately, the high winds had abated a little by the time we set off at about midday and Three Mile Cross was reached at a sociable enough time for a pre-match livener or two. Visiting a pub such as the Swan helped to set their minds at rest that there wouldn’t be any football-style crowd segregation or intimidation, seeing Saints and Irish fans alike mingling over a Guinness or three.

And so to the Madejski. An impressive enough stadium for its primary purpose, but after two visits, I remain unconvinced by its suitability as a Premiership rugby ground. While I appreciate that not all clubs are as fortunate as we are with the Gardens, a third full ground such as that encountered at Reading doesn’t help to build atmosphere.

For a sold out semi-final or cup match, I can see its value, but Irish fans must long for more intimate surroundings. Admittedly the weather can’t have helped, with many no doubt declining to risk travel, but the air raid siren, debated long and hard on the Irish board, did little to enhance the match day experience. The rugby itself was eminently forgettable, with the result being the only positive. I suspect the crowd would have been more animated had the quality of the game been higher.

Never the less, Dad seemed to appreciate the importance of the victory and Mum was suitably impressed with the number of internationals and household names on display. Both were cheering our scores and berating the ref with the best of us within 20 minutes, so the objective of the day was probably achieved.

Having established that they enjoyed the day, I suspect I’ll be attempting to bring them to other games in the future, most likely at a “proper” rugby ground such as the Rec or Stoop – or maybe even our own Fortress Franklins.

So what did two newcomers to Saints rugby take from the day? I suspect not as much as they may have done due to the venue and the standard of rugby on display (“I thought the idea was to run with the ball and score tries?” said Mum), but the overwhelming impression will hopefully be of the cammaraderie of the rugby fellowship. Home and away fans uniting in their support and love of the game, and the passion exhibited for their teams and sport. And that is, after all, what we all find so appealing about the Saints. Win, lose or draw, we all continue to follow with commitment and loyalty because of the tension and excitement of the day and because of the others of a like mind with whom we share that experience.

So here’s to us, the fans, who really generate the heart and soul of the match day experience, and to my parents, newly converted long distance Saints.


.