The Gladiators are back : Tue Feb 28, 2012 6:00 pm
The Shay arena was bathed in the sunshine as the Gods smiled down on Halifax. Mike Riley the Slave Master was walking at the side of the battleground content in the state of the playing surface. The slaves were still in their cells as there were no protective covers to remove.The Slave Master stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted someone trying to hide behind some rubbish bins. He walked slowly forward approaching the hider and kicked the bins to one side to reveal the secret watcher.
“I thought I recognised you with your red and white strip. It could have been Sam Tomkins, but no, it’s the run away Leigh slave Starbug.”
The frightened Starbug was down on his hands and knees begging for mercy, fearful to look up at the angry Slave Master.
“Where are you from Starbug, Cheshire or Lancashire?” He asked as he burst into uproarious laughter at his simple joke his craggy face looking positively evil in the sunshine. He dragged the frightened Starbug to the slave pens.
“Halifaxjohn, I’ve got some company for you, and what are you doing with that dress ya wiardo?”
“Sir, it’s not a dress, it’s my blanket, I was just making my bed,” replied the startled slave.
“That’s your story,” growled the Slave Master. “Starbug, get in there. Looks like the Centurions have lost one of their supporters to the mighty Fax.” The arena echoed to his derisive laughter as he walked to the tunnel and out to the reception, just in time to see the Rovers Battle Chariots pull up to shed the clubs players and officials. He stood nonchalantly to one side as they started to take their playing gear to the changing cells. The Rovers players had on many occasions put the Fax Warriors to the sword, but twice the mighty Fax had pulled off a couple of big wins by just one point. No one expected the battle to be so close today. Both camps were ready to give their bodies for their respective tribes.
One hour to go for the battle to commence.
The Slave Master left the reception area and wandered into the Fax dressing rooms.
Arch Duke Rhino and the schemer Greenwood were talking to the players but stopped to see who had entered the hallowed place.
“What do ya want Riley?”
“Just thought I’d pop in to see how you were coping.”
“Coping,” bellowed the Rhino. “Get your ugly misshaped body out of my sight; ya know this is for players and coaching staff only. Reittie, Barlow; throw this idiot back into the slave pens where he belongs.”
They were too late to catch the already running Slave Master.
The cheerleaders made a V outside of the tunnel for the players to run through and onto the battleground. They held aloft burning torches to herald the entry of their heroes; the smoke from the torches curling up to meet the sunshine of the Gods.
The combatants entered the ground to the tumultuous cheers of their respective tribes as the touch judges entered the arena. They were nervous and with all the noise from the fans and began to run the touch lines as if demented; their nostrils flaring and eyes bulging with fear.
The noise continued as both sets of warriors waited for the battle referee to make an appearance.
Robert Hicks the game controller walked onto the ground to the ribald catcalls from both tribal camps.
Mr Hicks took his place, looked at his timepiece, and nodded to the time keeper.
The trumpets blared to herald the start of the battle.
Fev have the honour of getting the game underway.
Mad Dog Gannon received the ball and charges it up field. Fax move the ball quickly down the left flank trying to catch the Fev defence flat footed. A great pass out to Reittie, but the Fev defence was up to any sly moves. Reittie was forced to kick but the kick went dead.
Ben Kaye takes the ball up the middle making a good pass to Dickens who charges like a beast with mad cows decease.
Brutal tackles were going in from both sets of protagonists, but as usual no quarter was asked or given. The fans from both tribes were nearly hoarse with their tribal chants. On the one side you have the Flat Cappers chanting “Rovers, Rovers” and at the other end the Fax fans with their blood curdling “OHaliHali.”
Fax kicked the ball hard up field but it was charged down by Ben Kaye. Fortunately the Fax cover defence took care of him.
Fax on the drive down the left flank, this time too fast for the Fev cover defence to stop Tyrer scoring in the corner. Unfortunately Tomorrows Man couldn’t convert his own try.
Fev take the ball up to the Fax ten yard line but knock on in their eagerness to get over the whitewash.
Fax on the attack again, a sweet pass from Legs Manning put Ben Heaton through a gap to break the line. Hardman came over to cover but took the silliest dummy to allow Heaton to score. Tomorrows Man Converted to make the score Fax 10 Fev 0.
Both teams battered each other without relent. The play went on until the 39th minute when the pressure from Fev paid off as Hardman crossed for their first try, Finn converting.
Half-Time score
Halifax RLFC 10 v Featherstone Rovers 6
The battle continued with first Fax then Fev taking ground advantage. Fev come hammering on the Fax defensive line, but the Mighty Fax held.
Fax push the ball forward with some clever play, Thackery going close but had chance to off loads to the supporting player Chunky Ashall who to the left of the uprights, Tomorrows man converting to make the score Fax 16 Fev 6.
On the next Fax drive the game irrupts into a full scale brawl. To the derision of both tribal camps the game master red cards Haley of Fev and Chunky of Fax.
The game restarts with a penalty to Fax.
The next score is again the Mighty Fax as a ball goes loose behind the Fev line, but is soon pounced on by Hesketh, Tomorrows Man converting to make the score Fax 22 v Fev 6.
Mike Riley the slave master looked up to the back of the stand where one of the Fax directors was looking down on the proceedings with a smug look on his face, it was the well known trader Ian Croad, also known as the Blade, because this man could draw blood without using a knife.
There was no way back for the shattered Fev; there fans were moaning none more than Rotherhamfevfan who was crying tears of blood.
In the slave pens Halifaxjohn and Starbug were hugging each other in their happiness. The Fax fans were chanting “who are ya, who are ya,” to the beleaguered Fev tribes.
The Blade was talking to his guests informing them that Fev would never get over this thrashing, and, Halifax were the new kids on the block.
Wait a minute; the Fev tribes are calling for their worriers not to give up hope, which seemed to give the Fev combatants new life. In the next set Ropati crashes over close to the corner flag, to be converted by Finn to make the score Fax 22 Fev 12.
The Fev faithful were in ecstasy and screamed abuse at the Fax tribes. The Fev fans and players take new heart from the score to go over the Fax whitewash again within four minutes. The score now Fax 22 Fev 18.
The flat Cappers were soon put back in their place as the Mighty Fax player Winged Feet White collected the ball close to his own line and ran as only he can to score just to the right of the uprights, Tomorrows Man converting the try to make the score Fax 28 Fev 18, job nearly done.
There is something wrong, the Fev players don’t know when they’re beat, the arrogant tribe keeps coming back at the Fax line to gain the reward of another try by Hardman to claim his hat trick which was converted by Finn to make the score Fax 28 Fev 24.
The Flat Cappers are going demented with joy, jumping up and down in their seats, the players back slapping each other. But even worse was to come.
Only six minutes passed before they were in again to pounce on some poor Fax defending a score by the ever powerful Bostock, this time the conversion was missed by Finn to the delight of the Fax Tribes. But the Flat Cappers were in fine mood, singing, “Your not singing anymore,” over and over again.
The score Fax 28 Fev 28
But soon it was game on for Fax as they smashed through the Fev defence to allow Heaton to score his second try of the night. Tomorrows Man missed the conversion, but it was alright as it was just about full time. The score Fax 32 Fev 28.
The slaves were happy because if the slave master was happy he would leave them alone. Halifaxjohn and Starbug were holding hands as they jumped around in their cell singing, “Do ya want to be in my gang my gang, oh yeah.”
The Fax fans were screaming for the final trumpets to sound the end of the game, but no, we had forgotten about the time taken off for the brawl. The Hundreds of Flat Cappers were leaving the arena sure that this time they had come off second best the Fax.
But we rejoice too early.
Featherstone Rovers have not been Champions for the last two years and Grand Final winners to give up without a fight. Once again they started to weave their magic.
That grand old man Saxton scored wide on the left flank making the conversion just about impossible.
A draw would do for the mighty Fax, but again it was not to be as the cool Liam Finn slotted the ball between the uprights to win the contest to the tumultuous delight of their followers.
Rotherhamfevfan was crying like a baby, the happiness clear for all to see, in contrast to the Fax faithful who were dejected but in defeat they were proud of their team.
Full Time Halifax RLFC 32 Featherstone Rovers 34
Attendance 14,651 (and were not even playing Batley)
Runners were already on their way south to warn the Skolars that the Fax would be on their way soon
.If you would like me to continue with my tongue in cheek reports, just let me know.
Malcolm P
