Kingston-upon-Hull. A city with a rich history, heritage and an exciting future.
The birthplace of William Wilberforce (google him); a massive player in the fishing industry; a key port, linking Britain to the rest of Europe and beyond for trade and transport; the UK City of Culture 2017.
Visitors to the city could sample one of the many events taking place, such as the Jazz festival; a night out in the city’s many bars, sampling the vibrant nightlife; perhaps even a P&O cruise or simply a stroll along the mariner on a nice day.
But if you’re a Warrington fan, a trip to the city of Hull generally means an excruciating 80 minutes of rugby and a fucking miserable drive home.
We’re bored of writing about how piss poor we’ve been but still manage to fluke some sort of result. It’s tough to watch.
We noted last week that at least we’re grinding out results when we’re not playing well, but on Friday it actually looked like that was the tactic – put ourselves into as much of an unwinnable position as possible and see what we can do as the clock ticks down.
We missed Gids, of course, but that wasn’t the reason that we lost.
We lost because our discipline was all over the place. Not just in terms of players head butting blokes, but also in terms of simply not doing stuff when it should be done.
Our defensive line for Reeerveeers’ first try was touch and pass stuff.
We hate to sound like moaning bastards, but, there are three weeks left before the super duper 8’s and we look a million miles away at the minute.
You can put all the Facebook rants you like about being ‘true fans’ and ‘supporting the lads’, but even for the ‘not missed a game since John Dorahy’ brigade travelling 120 miles in torrential rain on a Friday night to watch an amateurish performance is a button pusher.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Reervers’ first try was the fact that it denied us the opportunity to witness a real-life 0-0 half-time score for the first time since Barrow away.
As we all know, you’re not a true fan until you’ve a genuine ‘I was there’ story. The Perpignan 52, those who stayed til the bitter end of the 80-0… this was our chance to tell our grandkids about the time Wire were so shite one time, the game was actually 0-0 after 40 minutes of rugby.
Just as you questioned internally if Albert Kelly was going to pop over a drop goal to ensure half-time lead for his side, Shaun Lunt popped a short ball to fucking James Donaldson to touch down without contact.
Off the ball, the move to Friday nights have hindered the once-famous and feared atmosphere at Craven Park, somewhat.
They used to have a full playlist of songs and there was usually an electric buzz about the place. Instead, have you ever heard a group of people just boo everything and anything as much as that lot the other night?
The Cod Botherers(Cod Squad? Cod Beaters? Why not suggest your own? Tweet us) even made Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiidnes look like a tolerant, understanding bunch.
Granted, the referee was so far out of his depth he was half-way to Zeebrugge, but Christ it was like a pantomime during that second half, made funnier by the exasperated (great word) swinging of arms that accompanied the noise.
Though to be fair, if you’re going to send James Green off for landing a sweet one on Jordan Cox, Cox should probably have walked for his part in the fracas (another great word).
The second half, while a bit less turgid, was still dreadful.
The 12 men in the red and white still managed to find a big fuck off gap to take a 10-0 lead before we half woke up in a kind of coma-patient-squeezing-his-mum’s-hand-to-give-her-a-bit-of-false-hope-way.
Matty Russell went over in the corner to finish what was, in fairness, a decent move; Brad Dwyer did what Brad Dwyer does and then Jack Hughes scored what could, would, fucking should have been the winner.
By the time KR regathered their short kick off, we’d slipped well and truly back into that coma. Iain Thornley’s kick should have been twatted into the North Sea at least twice before he managed to get his hands to it. We hate to call out Dec Patton, because he genuinely looks a decent prospect, but he looked exactly like a player that had been out for months and he really should have dealt with it.
Then followed a massive Chris Sandow brain fart. With a chance to rescue the result with another Salford special, he feigned to the left and managed to put himself so far out of position he had to pass to Kevin Penny, who in turn threw it back inside. The lack of attacking fluidity that has been in evidence over the last couple of months meant that a “wide to West” try was never on.
Ratchford was in a decent position, but having to rush the drop attempt never really gave it a chance, and half the Reeervers fans laughed at his feeble attempt on the hooter, while the other half celebrated as though they’d won the league.
Although we actually get a competition point for the result, we didn’t deserve one and it actually felt like a loss.
Not to sound too much like Kevin Keegan, but we’d love it if we actually started playing well in time for the play-offs. Love it.