By razcal
September 17 2002

Some people say you should never meet your heroes because the reality never lives up to the expectation. I had forgotten this when I pestered Stopsy during the long boring Summer rugby recess, to meet for a drink at the Sale away match. A secondary consideration is I like being incognito. Some of the posters on this board have the weirdest of handles yet know each other intimately. Nobody at this stage could even begin to claim to recognize Razcal and that allows Razcal to take on a persona which is much more exciting than the real life nutter who poses as Razcal. Did I want to put this at risk?

Well, despite my better judgement I went through with my mission. It was not easy. Just getting to the game would be a struggle. I had cashed in kudos built up during the divball world cup and early morning cover for colleagues to get the afternoon off work. However, Mrs Razcal couldn’t and the kids were in school. We managed to get away by half three but it was a little stop start on sections of the motorway and very slow just before the M67 on the outskirts of Manchester. Mrs Razcal dropped us at the metro station round the corner from our host’s house behind Old Trafford football ground. Kick off was looming. The Metro ticket machine wasn’t working. No personnel in sight. What to do? Just like the locals we took a punt and got on with no ticket. We had no choice but I felt as guilty as hell. A woman then berated Razcal junior and myself because we had tickets for the game and she hadn’t and she should have priority over us because she was local. We got into the ground just in time but all the good viewing positions were occupied and all the programmes sold out. Now I needed a programme to identify the Sale players for the match report. Raz junior then complained of being hungry and we realized we had left the picnic in the car. Was it Friday the thirteenth or not!

Undeterred I borrowed a programme from a perfect stranger and wrote the Sale players down and set about watching the game and taking notes on my daughter’s clip board. The lights at Sale were poor and getting viewable pictures was very difficult. I was right in line to snap Harry’s try when people leaned across the shot. At the end of the game they announced that Stimmo was to be presented with a souvenir of his 1,000 points and I tried to force my way through jubilant Sale fans only to get there just too late to capture the moment for all you Timmy groupies on this board.

I then went back for my clip board and the watch I had attached to it for timing the events of the game. It had gone. It took a long time to get back near the clubhouse.

I was still on a mission for Denise. I was under instructions to get Raz junior to ask Jamie Hamilton to autograph his rear of the week picture for Tiger Rock’s prize. I was to photograph this event and write the nearest I can manage to a humourous article. I also had to photograph a mystery ear for this week’s competition. In all the years I have been to Sale you have been allowed to mingle with the players on the pitch once the warm down is over. But this year they had a big crowd so this was no longer allowed. In any case there was no Jamie. And the crowd was so intense round the changing room door there was no chance of snapping anyone’s ear. We got Sam Vesty to sign his picture from the Leeds warm down but that was that. We did get hold of Tim Stimpson minus his 1,000 point trophy but people kept walking in front of the picture.

Then I went for a wee forgetting that Sale have the worst toilets north of the Alps. No lights on so I didn’t see the urinals had overflowed until I stepped in the overflow.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse Stopsy found me, or rather Alphonse sniffed me out and added to the urinal overflow on my shoes.

Stopsy had copious pertinent notes on the game and I had a lame excuse. He had two brand new banners and I had the beer stained epic from the Cardiff final. His children were good looking and polite and , well Raz junior is my son! Mrs Stopsy is attractive and gently spoken and Mrs Razcal, well she is Mrs. Razcal. We couldn’t get a seat in the bar to write the match report and in any case my pen and paper had gone with the clipboard. Still, really all that was needed was to punctuate his notes in a couple of places and add a title.

Never mind I thought, the great Stopsy, doyen of the message board, feared in Black Pig land, would have been impressed with my landing of the Saint’s betting adviser earlier in the week. When I twisted the conversation round to the message board Stopsy confessed to not understanding betting.

Somewhat crestfallen I slunk away to the bar to buy the great man the beer I had promised him in June. Then Stopsy revealed the true wonder of his evilness. While I was in the bar he tried to get Raz junior to cough to his real name. But Raz junior is my son and held firm!

Now I love my rugby and I am a devoted Tigers fan. I highly recommend going to away games but I am more dubious about doing so on Friday the thirteenth. Oh and never go on a blind date with someone on this board.