By MikeGC
July 26 2006

Up until this year, most of Sale fans' European trips had been made during the autumn and winter cold and gloom. But now, we had progressed beyond the group stage and a quarter-final in the Basque country sunshine beckoned. The current heat wave has made MikeGC nostalgic for that heady weekend...

 

 

Confessions of a European virgin - MikeGC clears his conscience.

 

OK, not strictly true, I’ve been lucky enough to travel to many parts of Europe, but this was my first foray to watch Sale Sharks play. It was only just my first trip, as I’d been very tempted by the tales of daring do from trips to Eire and I’m aware just how good the craic can get but I made the choice not to go to Munster.

Well decision made, I started to wonder where we’d end up. Don’t shoot me, but, I was confident we wouldn’t get a home quarter final, having studied Munster’s home form. So I pinned my hopes on somewhere sunny cropping up and when the draw became clear I was pleased that I’d conserved my resources for a trip to south western France and north western Spain in early April.

So I’d been trawling for cheap flights and had come up with a few acceptable alternatives flying from Manchester when an e-mither hit my inbox, from Burnage RFC, they were planning a trip to watch the game and the package looked pretty good. To cut down on red tape the tour company (http://www.tours4.com/) recommended a flight from Stanstead to Pau, which we all self booked and tours4 organised all the ground transport.

The pick up from the Burnage clubhouse went to plan and we were joined by friends from Dukinfield RFC and Oldham RFC. You may remember that the day before we were due to travel the message board had been filled with the woes of CheadleEnder and her travelling companions, so it was with some trepidation that we approached Stanstead. Unfortunately, that was compounded by the failure of the driver to spot the airport sign on the motorway. A 40minute detour later saw us running through Stanstead to get to check-in. Our driver went very quite at this stage, we assumed it was embarrassment, but it was actually the ‘last gallon warning light’ flashing away happily. Luckily, we found a filling station and we were back at the airport in reasonable time. Our luck increased as we sped through check-in and the departure lounge and straight onto the brand new 737 in record time. Strong tail winds had us in Pau early, where we were met by ‘Ted’ une (aren’t they all called Ted ?) the French bus driver. The more professional approach was taken by ‘Ted’ over that taken by our Brit driver was evident by his preference for looking out of the windscreen, rather than feeding us risqué jokes.

An hour or so later that afternoon we rolled into that beautiful town we now know as Biarritz. The first thing to strike us was the way the shop keepers and local residents had decorated shops and houses, clearly Rugby was big in this town. ‘Ted’ kindly offered to give us a lift into town (Oh the joy of travelling with someone who is fluent and not having to struggle with bar/hotel/shop language ‘skills’). We accepted and ‘Ted’ dropped us near the centre of town. We had a short walk to look over the Atlantic and meandered along to the first bar we could find with a TV (allez Perpignan – not). Well we ended up about 50 metres from Café Leffe, in a charming family run place with cheap beer and food and a plentiful supply of thinly sliced local saucisson on the bar.

We eventually moved up to Café Leffe, were we were greeted by (amongst others) Tigger Too, the Riggers clan and young f. And this is where the party really kicked off. We hadn’t been there long when a white pick-up truck came round the corner with a mobile disco run by two ‘native Americans’. They pulled up outside Café Leffe for the first of three or four visits and let rip with what we later learnt was the Biarritz rugby anthem. We were just blown away, and despite our cries of “Sayul, Sayul, Sayul” they had the early advantage. Then a group of young girls rolled in, clearly on a birthday bash, and dammit if they didn’t give us a rousing chorus of Allez BO as well. We’ve a lot to learn from this mob !

We then hit as much of the rest of the town as possible and the evening (well actually the morning) finished at about 3am as we made our way in ones and twos back to the hotel in various stages of ‘distress’. We all looked much more distressed at breakfast but hey this is rugby, you’ve got to expect some discomfort ! Still we forced some strong black coffee down in time for ‘Ted’ deux to collect us and whisk us off to San Sebastian.

The sights on the motorway heading for Spain came as the next surprise. Every car seemed to have flags and scarves festooned across them and at one stage it was like being on a brightly coloured M60 in the rush hour. The border crossing was mayhem, but our local driver consistently chose the correct lane and we were through in a flash. And so, onward we drove to San Sebastian, where another shock awaited us. The astonishing number of folk in white shirts, white trousers, red scarves was a true eye-opener. And they were all fantastically friendly.

But, what to do for 6 hours while we waited for kick-off ? Clearly, there was beer and cider to sample and at some point perhaps some food. So we meandered through San Sebastian until we discovered a square where a huge barbeque had been erected, lots of good fresh food and covered seating for about 200. Our blue shirts (the only ones around) attracted the local nutter, but only par for the course and full of ham, lamb, beef and some very tasty octopus and lashings coarse red wine we strolled back to the stadium.

We were keen to be in the ground in plenty of time, to enjoy the atmosphere building up, but again beaten to it by the exuberance of the BO support. I’ve never seen anything like it in all the time I’ve been attending sporting events. Certainly beats anything I’ve ever seen at Maine Road or Old Trafford.

The game passed by in a flash, as I’m sure it did for the lads. Most memorable ? The blazing sun, the fanatical support of the BO fans, the great camaraderie and the relief that I’d remembered to bring a hat. We kept hydrated with the stadium’s alcohol free beer and maintained our alcohol levels with some apple brandy/schnapps which some old boy had pressed upon us (in a Perrier bottle !).

And so out onto the streets of San Sebastian again. We fell into conversation with some charming young ladies who encouraged us to join them at the BO supporters bar, just outside the ice rink. “We might as well stay for one” was the theme, but one was followed by another and the next was followed by some decidedly bawdy rugby songs. I’d like to think the BO fans appreciated our crude version of “alouette” and, as they didn’t understand most of it, they probably did ! And so the evening wore on hats were swapped and little red scarves donated but the best was yet to come. We had our own charming young lady with us in the ice rink bar (no names, no pack drill – what goes on tour…, well you know the rest) and naturally she drew some admiring glances. So it was no surprise that a hunky Frenchman wanted to exchange shirts, no, the big surprise was when she took her shirt off ! I didn’t know where to look, well OK I did, but I was trying to be polite ! So there she stood, trim young thing that she is (a well proportioned ‘small’ at best) in this extra large Biarritz shirt. There he was, extra large was being generous and our young lady’s rugby shirt did a stretching act comparable to that of Mrs Incredible. Well it was time to leave; ‘Ted’ deux was outside in the bus. We had a few spare seats and naturally offered our new found friends a lift home. They accepted but as smashed as they were, they only had a lift to the border, where one had his car stashed. What a nice set of lads.

So back in Biarritz a little before midnight and the party was still in full flow. Every bar was full of happy people; in fact by midnight the road outside the Colonnades bar was full of people too and as we sat in the road singing with the BO fans a couple of local Gendarmes directed traffic around us – happy days. I was engaged in conversation with a chap I recognised but couldn’t put a name to, people kept giving us funny looks eventually, he strolled off with his two pals. People watched him leave and a few gave some less than complementary hand gestures. Then it dawned on me, it was Alan Lewis and his henchmen and I hadn’t recognised him with “with his clothes on” !! Unfortunately, the remainder of the evening is a little hazy. There were numerous other bars to re-visit and (I believe) some karaoke ! Our young lady was now feeling the effects of the afternoon and evening and from the way she swayed in her seat it was clearly time she was back at the hotel. The wine gauges in her eyes flipped to FULL and a couple of us did the gentlemanly thing and took her back to the hotel.

Well six hours later, at breakfast, she’d showered and re-done the war paint, and looked like she’d had an early night – there’s no justice !! Time for a final stroll around the town before we were picked up, so some had a paddle whilst others choose ‘cheveux du chien’ and chewed the fat with some delicate looking BO fans and the legend that is Abdel Benazzi. Well the return journey avec ‘Ted’ trois back to Pau was equally uneventful (other than a good selection of raptors, including Black Kite, Booted Eagle and a lone Short-toed Eagle, seen from the bus along the motorway). Pau airport was quite and our nice new aircraft was ready to leave on time. Yet another strong tail wind had us back in blighty all too soon and as anticipated the worst of the journey was the drive up to Stockport.

Regrets, well yes. I wished I’d gone earlier to enjoy more of Biarritz. Wish I’d found the shop selling the BO – Sale t shirts. And wish I’d been able to stay longer. The weekend was over in a flash, the craic was as good as any I’ve enjoyed in Eire and the weather far, far better.