NRL 2014

My second ever NRL experience:

Smashing NRL footy action today as the Penrith Panthers tore the Wests Tigers apart by 26 points to 10 at the ridiculously inaccessible but gloriously atmospheric Leichardt Oval. This battle of the big cats saw the team from the western part of western Sydney triumph over Wests, who are from the eastern part of western Sydney, which is actually really in the eastern part of the city if you look at the map. The "western" part goes reeeaallly far west.

After spending the morning watching Junior F standard hurling way out in the sticks in the godforsaken kip that is Ingleburn, I left too little time to get back into town for the 3pm kick-off. Sydney's public transport system is deceptive. It's all shiny and new on the outside, but the reality is its trains and buses are slow and ponderous. Anyway, why break the habit of a lifetime and be early for something when you can be late, or use public transport's failings as an excuse? After walking around Town Hall Square and George Street like a headless chicken for 20 minutes vainly searching for a bus stop and a bus route that seemingly didn't exist (even though listed on the official city transport website and map), I got a bus down the Parramatta Road and hopped out about two miles from the ground - the nearest point I could get within via bus. As it was by now half-time, I hailed a taxi. But I made a huge mistake in not crossing the road first - there is no right turn on Parramatta Road and the Indian guy driving it went a good mile beyond the junction where I wanted to turn off before going left and doing a u-turn to go straight across to the other side. After me instructing him where to go through a load of backstreets (the Google Maps usage killed my flagging phone battery) - he hadn't a clue where the stadium was and appeared to have never heard of it, he eventually got me there with the second half already on. I went up to the gate and asked if there was any chance of getting in. "Sorry mate, it's sold out" was the reply. "Feck", says I with a resigned and exasperated look on my face, as this was one stadium I really wanted to visit - it's the most played on ground in NRL/NSWRL history, and there isn't another match there for a couple of months, by which time I'll be well away and back in Ireland.

I decided to have a walk around the outside of the ground anyway, hearing the noise and looking longingly up through the industrial fencing, chicken wire and trees to the backs of the spectators at the back of the huge grass bank, as if I were gazing at Miranda Kerr. I got around to the other side and asked a security man if there was any chance of getting in. "This is the players entrance, mate. Go up to the front." I went up to the front and there were a group of people walking back in after being outside. I was about to ask the Maori guy doing security if there was any chance of getting in but instead I kind of tagged onto the back of the group, and he just nodded me on, even though it was obvious he knew I hadn't a ticket.. Two NRL matches attended so far - combined cost: $0 (got a spare one outside the Manly - Sydney Roosters match last week for which a supporter refused to accept any payment for).

Penrith were 16-0 up when I got in but Wests got a try down below where I was as I was making my way across to the big hill. I tried to sit down on the grass but the sun was blinding me so I went to stand further up towards the back. I allowed myself a beer as the combined cost of the taxi and the beer was still considerably lower than a face value ticket would have been. Penrith tagged on two tries to kill the game off. Wests got a consolation at the end. The banter between the supporters was splendid indeed, very GAA-like but with more swearing, people drinking cans of beer and openly flouting the no-smoking rule. I tentatively positioned myself near a mixed group of Wests and Penrith supporters who were bantering each other. I made some general, neutral, twee comment about the match, whereupon a Penrith supporter replied in the general conversational manner of Australians (they call it shouting in Ireland). "Yaaoooouuuurre Irish, maaayte... HAND OF FROG!" Recognising that he was talking about Thierry Henry I replied that I had attended the match in question. "Naaaooow fackin way, maaaayte.." He then toasted me with his can of Carlton. As I left I inquired from a supporter where I could get a black and amber hooped Tigers beanie like the one he was wearing. I told him they weren't the only black and amber team with a feline nickname that would be torn apart today (that didn't quite work out). He didn't get that but responded "Ha, mate, my grandmother knitted this for me. I'll give it to you for $100!" The manually operated scoreboard showed the real final score as I left, and that what everybody had just witnessed had been an illusion - Wests 69 (11 tries, 12 goals) to Penrith's 0.

Leichardt Oval is a wonderful venue, a compact, intimate venue by the banks of the Parramatta, although you can't see the river as half the ground is hemmed in by woods. The hill there is a bit like the old one at Clones, and the surrounding area had the traffic jams afterwards to match. There's a move on in Rugby League to try and do away with smaller suburban grounds like this one and Brookvale Oval in Manly which I attended last week, in a similar manner to what the AFL has done in Melbourne where all matches are played in only two stadiums. That would be a serious mistake. The match experience at both grounds is wonderful, with the more family orientated crowd sitting on the grass lower down, the more hardcore element standing further back, where the banter, insults, beer and laughs fly around. It's a real, proper match experience, way removed from the sterile dirge of flat pack new stadiums like the new Lansdowne Road. Real people, real atmosphere, despite the cheesy public address announcements and songs. Some people would call this kind of a place a shlthole and in Ireland there's no way it would have a safety certificate, but I fooking loved it, despite the two hours it took to get back home (home as in where I'm staying, not home as in Ireland. Two hours would be a wonderfully quick flight).