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Torn Loyalties: A peculiar situation

Roar Guru
8th February, 2017
2

Fair warning: 63% of this article is not related to rugby league, and it’s 93% tosh.

While the best and; brightest of the NRL continue in their preseason, with a much-needed rest after an excruciating 54 minutes of 9s, spare a thought for us Europeans. Super League is due to start this Thursday, while the second Division is already building up to Round 2.

Players could be asked to play for their club 39 times, with the promise of a six-round World Cup at the end of that (the beacon of hope that makes 2017 somewhat bearable, and should humanity survive that long, what a competition it promises to be).

Despite the endless possibilities for wasted digi-space that competition reform and over-flogged players presents to me, I’m here to write about a low-key, second Division match on a Sunday afternoon team between a has-been club and a never-been team.

London ‘Broncos’ versus Hull Kingston Rovers may not seem like a game to rival State of Origin and the Anzac Test in terms of competitiveness and magnitude (although there is a lot to be said for the free-flowing style of play in this Hemisphere, and the competitive nature of the second tier). But from a purely personal point of view, my loyalties are as split as the long-term thinking at the RFL.

It started in 2013 when, keen to annoy my unionist brother, I decided to follow rugby league, just for a laugh. Turns out, after witnessing the 2013 World Cup Semi-Finals at Wembley, I rather enjoyed the game, and decided to stick with it. Of course, I needed a team, and being a Southerner, the logical choice seemed like supporting the only team south of the M62 that didn’t speak with a foreign accent. Right?

Wrong! Unfortunately, as I was/am what is commonly known as a shot-head (is this right? Ed), as well as vehemently anti-American, I refused to have anything to do with these crony American monikers (Warriors, Rhinos et al).

However, what with them being my ‘local’ team and us both sharing financial incredulities, there was always a place in my heart for the Denver, sorry, London, Broncos.

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But I needed a team, a real team to support. In the pre-enlightenment days before some semblance of promotion and relegation was reintroduced, I had three options; Hull KR, Hull FC and Saint Helens.

The latter was ruled out due to their proximity to the City of Liverpool.

Now, I love the city, but with my love of the game public, I could not risk being seen to support the Liverpudlians by my grandfather. He’s what you’d call ‘old fashioned’. He had no problem with his daughter marrying a Sino-Malaysian, but with memories of picketed cars, shell-suits and Harry Enfield falsely engrained in his memory, proximity within 50 miles of a Ken Dodd statue would see my exclusion from the will (and God knows what three figures would do for me right now).

Anyhow, I didn’t have an emotional attachment to the team anyway, so it wasn’t a biggie. That left just FC and KR of Hull, the 2017 UK City of Culture (somehow). I went for KR, because I wanted the real rugby league experience, unfurnished stadia, bad beer and the likes. And so that’s how I came to support Hull KR.

At first, my choice seemed justified. London were relegated, Hull KR reached Wembley, and standing at Hull FC was strictly forbidden. It all seemed to be going swimmingly, until the boot of Josh Griffin dumped the mighty Rovers into the Second Division and eternal obscurity.

So that’s my story; I let idiocy and Imperial Preference triumph over localism, only to see my adopted side consoled to the same fate. It seems that no matter who I support, they are doomed to perpetual failure.

With that in mind, up the mighty Kangaroos!

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