IT alls starts in the lift on the second floor of the Premier Inn in the shadow of the Tyne Bridge.
Three Castleford fans stumble in but they appear to have four sets of legs. Maybe it’s magic? It turns out one of them is wearing a large inflatable lime green suit - with a pair of extra comedy limbs attached to the front. It’s Friday afternoon and the weekend is yet to begin.
We shall talk about rugby league soon but given this is supposedly the final Magic Weekend, let’s start with the fans. Steve and Peter are Rhinos diehards but don’t seem too downhearted the morning after their team lose dramatically to Castleford. Steve says: “It’s tough but we are here for the weekend and we will watch every minute of every game. We love it and we love this city.”
And he adds with a wink and a smile: “I’ll be writing to Gary Hetherington to tell him we won’t want to lose Magic. IMG have got it wrong.” Ali and Linda are both St Helens fans, happily strolling towards the ground on the second day. Ali looks rather chuffed with his replica heritage Saints top which Linda bought him for his birthday.
We chat about the way the town relies on the club for some rare positivity, the state of Turkish politics and Ali tells me he’s a Daily Mirror reader who loves the way the paper tackles the many charlatans in the Conservative party. And here’s the thing, we are all here for rugby league and if we can agree on that maybe we can agree on a few other things too - preferably over a beer or two.
Unless you are a Hull KR fan maybe we could agree openers Salford are a delight to watch. All that probing then they bite you with either the speed of Ryan Brierley or the midfield step-and-go of Brodie Croft. Or that Wigan’s pack lacks a talisman and is too predictable - like flies repeatedly smashing into the middle of your windscreen.
Catalans Dragons open them up far too easily and are worthy table-toppers. The atmosphere warms up considerably during Castleford’s win over Leeds though still not quite enough to heat the frozen tundra of the Milburn Stand. While grown men sunbathe topless in the Leazes Stand, layers are donned by envious souls shivering on the opposite side of the pitch.
A friend visits Marks and Spencer that evening to buy a vest and jumper to get him through the following day’s games. He may be the first recorded male to buy a vest in the store in this most hardened of cities. As Sunday unfolds we enter the realms of fantasy where for one brief moment it looks like Wakefield may have a chance of their first win when Leigh are down to 11.
We soon come to our senses. Leigh are too good and win the chant of the day with ‘You’re getting mauled by the Leopards’ to the tune of Sing When You’re Winning. That’s slightly undone by their chairman cavorting on the pitch like it’s all about him - it seems some things never change. St Helens finally field a near full-strength team and prove to those who’d lost their marbles and written them off that this is still a very special group of players.
I overhear one beleaguered Huddersfield supporter say to his mate: “I’m better than Jake Bibby.” He’s not but his sentiments feel valid when you get thumped like that. And finally Hull remind Warrington that trophies are not handed out at the end of April. They almost seem surprised that they can win a game like this but their end drowns the Wolves fans whose drumming hordes threatened to be the noisiest.
This is important to remember. Victory here, and especially for Cas supporters on Saturday judging by the joyful scenes near me, means more on this stage and in this stadium. It feels special. This event delivers. Ask Alex Walmsley and Louie McCarthy-Scarsbrook who had a penalty shootout at the Gallowgate end after victory, the pair of them lumbering down the pitch like laughing schoolchildren.
You’d expect a Millwall supporting former goalie to win the day but his prop forward pal buried it. If IMG’s suggestion to kill Magic Weekend is acted upon, we would see the same result. Except that act would be a spectacular own goal.
