Ok, so how many of us pissed our sides laughing when Terry Newton got collared for using drugs? As soon as I got the text message, my sides lips burst open and I had to spend the next five minutes trying not to cry with happiness that such a dispicable excuse for a human being could end up with even more dirt on him then before.
There are suggestions (usually around derby day) that coaches are always told that fans "don't care what happens as long as we beat Wigan."
It seems Brian Potter has taken this seriously...
A week off. A rare thing if you're a Saints' fan. Saturday, our players can put their feet up and watch two sides battle it out for the trophy they have picked up for three years running.
Hopefully, it will spur them on for the rest of the season.
But lets face it, as much as we can sit back and enjoy what will hopefully be a great game of Rugby League, who really wants Warrington to win?
Really, anyone who does, there are enough reasons following go to the pub, sink ten pints, get completely plastered, go home and beat your wife. That's right, become a Yorkshire bastard.
Last night, I watched sixteen tired bodies walk around the pitch after a win. I watched them applaud the fans who forty minutes earlier had booed and jeered them off into their team talk. Their post match body language belittled their professional attitude to their "faithful."
Clearly they were pissed off! Can you blame them?
The dream is one step closer life, in the mind's eye. Not the big rock cock on the hill. The dream of watching the Saints in a new home. On Sunday, Tony Colquitt spoke at length to Radio Murkeydive about the new stadium.
What he conveyed was mouthwatering.
It's times like this, a new hero steps to the fore. They can be an established member of the side, or a young starlet who announce their maturing in the game with an almost divine like moment resulting in sheer ecstasy.
Given some of the inane, and to be frank, embarrassing rantings over the past couple of weeks, some may suggest a new hero cannot come soon enough.
For years, Saints' fans revelled in the demise of Wigan Rugby League from the cream of the crop to also-rans. Heartily we laughed as we went gathering trophies, waving them in their faces as they desperately clung to the remnants of their past, and moaned about what their "great club was going through."
We promised not to act like petulant little runts who have just been grounded and told there is no ice-cream after their hotpot. Toys went out the pram and they sought new heroes who failed, continually.
Yet, in the face of Saints defeat to Huddersfield on Sunday, Saints' fans have started to display the very same attitude.
Walking back up the A49 towards wherever I parked is usually a great feeling. Today, it was very different. Listening to the ramblings of Saints fans, some angry, some upset, some passive, and watching the joy on the face of the Huddersfield fans, it was a bitter sweet pill.
So THIS is the magic of the cup?
Nothing typified it more than a young boy in a Huddersfield shirt, clutching the hand of his father asking "Daddy, can we go to Wembley?"
The reply
"Of course, son. Of course."
On an April Sunday in 2004, a sixteen year old boarded a train at Leamington Spa bound for Warrington. Clutching in his had two sets of tickets. His train ticket, and a match ticket. On his back, a Saints shirt.
Filled with a certain arrogance about the game, he headed into Warrington's West Stand, and blended in as one of thousands of Saints' fans that day. His arrogance was not misplaced. Saints blew away Huddersfield.
Saints were to off to Cardiff.
Holy cow. Anyone fancy a stint as Mick Potter for a week? The man in charge of Saints' transitional period really has it all to do. If rumours are to be believed, the Lance Todd Legend himself is due to return this weekend.
So, where do Saints place their bets? It's the ultimate Bart Simpson paradox. You're damned if you do, damned if you don't!"
