Moor 2s travelled to Sale to take on the Spartans in bright sunshine untypical of the British summer. The trip was in jeopardy – not because of XL going bust (you don’t need a jet to get to Dane Road) but because it appeared there was no referee. Semi-retired Air Marshal Heath, resplendent in full No. 1s, was hi-jacked from the very tasty-looking President’s Luncheon to play the role of the merry whistle blower, thereby ensuring that 40 odd lads (some of them very odd indeed!) enjoyed a game of rugby. A quick detour to Decathlon to purchase a whistle and the show was on the road.

There is something very scary about changing in the Spartans’ dungeons – everyone goes quiet and wide-eyed, wary of some unknown phantom. Ever seen Silence of the Lambs?? There were quite a few empty bottles of Chianti strewn across the damp floor. There is a wall for a urinal and the shower is actually a corridor – it reminded me of my recent visit to Oswiecim.

The pitch was in great nick considering the recent deluges but for one thing – Trafford council had forgotten to mark it out. The Spartans fly-half, an amiable chap called Mattie, told me he’d been at the ground since 10 o’clock marking out the lines. He’d done a pretty good job of it too. Rick Lindsay did his usual warm-up consisting of a stroll around the playing surface looking for hidden turds, but this season’s search proved fruitless.

Moor won the toss and elected to bowl.

A deepish kick-off was excellently chased and the Moor forwards put an early marker on the game by completely blasting through the first two rucks. From the third ruck, the ever-alert Kershaw sniped to the left and breezed through a large hole to score untouched beneath the sticks. Oggie accepted the easy conversion. The Moor pack continued to muscle and bustle and the visitors opened up a 19-0 lead in the first 12 minutes.

There was real quality and organisation to Moor’s display, and they definitely looked the fitter outfit. Fast re-cycling of possession allowed the backs time and space to exploit a weak defence. Some of the inter-passing and support play was top drawer – keeping the ball alive in contact was the key to this victory and there were some fine offloads from tackles. There was no need for anything fancy – just good handling technique, and the tries came thick and fast. It was unusual after 25 minutes when I asked Phil Thomas how many times he’d touched the ball for him to raise one solitary finger in reply. Tom Ireland, looking very comfortable at this level, scored a belter in one of his personal tally of 4 tries. From a Spartans restart following a try, Tiny gathered a grubber ball and popped to the onrushing Colts Captain. He beat the first few defenders for pace and then weaved his way to score under the sticks.

I mentioned handling, and yes, most of it was very sound. However, Moor made a few changes at half time and brought the Able Semen onto the right wing. He should have had a hat-trick but just couldn’t keep hold of the ball – obviously using the wrong type of KY if you ask me. Changes after that came very frequently – at one stage Moor seemed to have a front row replaced at every scrum or breakdown.

Kersh, all suave and sophisticated like an undercover Bond (007 – licenced to run havoc) began to run the show almost single-handedly. If the pass wasn’t on then he’d make intelligent breaks, a number of which ended in tries. Having said that, the forwards provided him with a superb platform.

The try scorers went as follows: Ireland (4), Kershaw (2) Oggie (1) Thomas (1) and Maz (1), with 3 conversions from Oggie and 2 from Maz. The result was a creditable 55-5 to the Moor outfit.

Someone needs to check the conversion law for me. Oggie took one conversion which scraped the very top of the right-hand upright. Not sure whether to award the points, the referee (me) decided not to and blamed in on showboating.

It was pleasant at the final whistle to be informed by many of the Spartans lads that I was the best referee they had ever had… but not in that sense!!