I like Clare Balding but I don't like BIKES

This week, on the recommendation of Angela Powers, I began following Clare Balding on Twitter. Her tweets are balanced to suit just my taste with personal and professional insights. @clairebalding1

It became quickly apparent that she had some significant beef at the moment with the Sunday Times columnist A.A. Gill. In fact she used her first ever tweet to call him that word that David Cameron ill advisedly said on the radio once.

I did a bit of digging and found that Gill had reviewed a new series of Clare's, 'Britain By Bike'. The review seems to be more about patronising women in television and being generally offensive about Clare's sexuality.

Clare Balding has always come across to me on television as rather a lovely lady. I have massive respect for her expertise on horses. I also think she does a nice job in strange circumstances of fronting the BBC's Rugby League Challenge Cup coverage. I love that she tries to know as much as possible about it in comparison to some of Sky Sports News's presenters who do the double header with Martin Offiah on a Sunday night. I mean as if he doesn't jet-propel my heart to my mouth enough with his seemingly epic fear of the live TV situation, they have an anchor whose rugby league knowledge goes: "Rugby league. That's the one they play up north isn't it? Didn't Andy Farrell play it once?" It must be super comforting for him.

(Totally off the subject, I was once offered a job as a football commentator for a club's own radio station. I said no as I didn't have an in depth knowledge of football. They said it didn't matter. I has to disagree.)

So anyway. Clare Balding. I like her. Turns out she's a lesbian. I was told that for definite a couple of years ago. I didn't exactly fall off my chair in shock. I was probably interested in the circumstances for about ten minutes. How long had this been common knowledge? Did she have a long term partner? Has she always been a lesbian or had she ever been straight? I don't know the answer to any of these questions and I'm not really that bothered. Guess what? Paint dries, and the Pope is a Catholic. More boring, obvious and irrelivant observations

To call her a "dyke on a bike" and make dull and simple 'butch' digs is a little schoolboyish isn't it? Oaf-like?

Here's my review of the series I haven't seen: I don't like bikes (yes that's BIKES) so I probably won't watch it. I think that's about as insightful as A.A. Gill's go.

Oh, and this Gill fella looks a bit like Kilroy but with imperfect teeth.

Relegation and the NFP - My Golden Rugby League Year

Considering some of my previous and planned blog posts I have noticed a worrying theme: angst. Moan, moan, moan, moan. Anyone would think from reading them that I would rather my husband arranged life insurance at The Abbey than facilitate my family's special and sometimes privileged existence through sport.

That in mind I'm going for a TOTAL change of tone here. I shall recount the highs from my bestest, favouritest, most fabulous ever year in rugby league.

Having spent almost five seasons at the Leeds Rhinos now, including three Grand Final wins and a World Club Challenge some of you may wonder why I look back so fondly on 2002, the season my then team Huddersfield Giants spent in the Northern Ford Premiership following relegation.

I had only been a rugby league WAG for 2 years at this point and the two seasons I had been, Huddersfield were God awful. Just rubbish. Seriously bad. Relegation was almost a relief.

One good thing then about the 2002 season was that we didn't lose, ever, at all, all year. So that's a positive. Well we did lose in the Challenge Cup but that didn't count.

That year I saw what rugby league was about. Some grounds changed ends at half time, some sloped considerably, come had portocabins for players lounges and at some you got wet when it rained no matter where sat/stood. I remember many characters including one lady who shouted abuse with froth spilling from the corners of her mouth. I'm not saying that Superleague doesn't have such characters but they were more at home in the NFP.

The Buddies Cup was born in 2002. That was then name then for the National League Cup. The sponsor, Buddies, is a soft drinks manufacturer. They make the kind of bright blue pop that you give kids outside the pub with a straw in it. It is best accompanied by Seabrook crisps, IMO. Perfect. We played Hull KR at Featherstone and won 32-6.

The game was marred by a sending off for Stanley Gene. He took some stick during this match from both players and supporters. Stanley had previously left KR to go across the city to Hull FC for a short spell before joining the Giants. The red card was for tripping and as Gene left the pitch a pint was thrown on him from above the tunnel.

The children (and I am talking Primary age) of one of the roughest and readiest Giants gave the offending Robins fans some verbal of their own which was quite amusing, although totally condemned of course!

There was also a disturbance among some inebriated fans behind us (WAGS and children) and at one point we had to pass the little ones along the line of seats like a human conveyor belt to get them away from the bother. All exciting stuff.

Winning was goooooood!

In October 2002 we met Leigh in the Northern Ford Premiership Grand Final The winner would secure promotion to the Superleague. We had not lost a league match or play-off all year and Leigh had only lost to us. BIG GAME. The game was so big I took a hip flask. This is reserved for emergency situations. What did I have in it? Baileys of course.

At this stage by husband and I were still 'courting'. We wanted to get engaged but needed the bonus money from winning this match to buy the ring I'd seen. The stakes were very high.
Bobby Goulding was the Leigh player/coach at this time. We won and the Giants were back in Superleague. He lost. Double bonus.

Following the match the WAGS had to sit on the coach outside the ground. The only person who had secured a bar pass was Tony Smith's wife and we had to wait for her to have a drink. Thank Goodness for my hip flask.

The players' coach and the families' coach dropped us all off at a regular haunt of the Giants, the Chigaco Rock Cafe and there began one of the greatest nights out of my life.

We went on to Visage and Ethos. This is one of those dual centred places that has cheesy house in one side and cheesy oldies in the other. I refer to the music and not the clientele. Oh OK it applies to both. I love this type of place.

Each song seemed to hold a special meaning that night and as I ranted along with Welsh winger Hefin O'Hare and promising youngster Eorl Crabtree the musings of that great orator Jon Bon Jovi had never seemed so poignant: "Ohhhhhhh, we're half way there. OH OH. We're living on a prayer. Take my hand and we'll make it I swear. OH OH, we're living on a praaaaayer."

It was a crazy night. A few of the boys decided to follow the example of the club doctor and set fire to their own mouths with the aid of some sort of spirit. I hope you feel comfortable in the knowledge that this physician has just been named the new England Doctor to take care of the nation's best on their 2010 tour of the southern hemisphere. He's a changed man these days.

There was an official celebration the night after, Sunday, with the fans. It wasn't nearly as good. I think we'd burner ourselves out a bit and I remember being a bit peeved that my fella didn't win any awards for clubmanship despite having spent most of his waking hours working that year.

That Monday morning I had to go and watch 'XXX' at the cinema as I had to review it. It was very loud and my head hurt but I didn't mind. And there ends my best year in rugby league so far.

The first match back for the Giants in 2003 was away in the Challenge Cup to Hunslet Hawks. We lost. Gutted.

The three Grand Final victory celebrations to date have been muted by pregnancy, breastfeeding and toddler taming.

I can only hope there are more euphoric times to come.

The photos below are from the 2002 NFP Grand Final and the second night out.

Why I Think Capello Should Look To Rugby League for WAGS Protocol

Before the FIFA World Cup began I was undecided about whether Fabio Capello's WAGS (wives and girlfriends) ban for the tournament was a good idea. One part of me thought the partners of the players deserved to share in the event while another understood why it wasn't a positive thing for them to appear in the papers dancing on tables and buying up the stock of South Africa's premium shopping outlets.

But now that we have seen two substandard and grey performances form the English national team I have made a decision. I believe they should get the wives, girlfriends, children and extended families of Steven Gerrard and co. out there quick sharp.

To me (and I am no expert on football, but am an on supporting sportsmen) the camp has been turned into an office; the players into businessmen. It is ALL about football. Work, work, work.

I can only comment on the professional rugby league teams I have been involved with over the last 11 years, Huddersfield Giants, Leeds Rhinos and England, although I believe that the protocol is similar for all clubs in the Superleague. My husband has been into camp with all of these teams in the run-up to Challenge Cup matches, the Superleague Grand Final, the Northern Ford Premiership Promotion Grand Final (showing my age) and England's World Cup and Four Nations campaigns.

For all of these events the rules have been as follows: families are encouraged to share in the excitement, supports the team, enjoy the event, but at no time are they wanted at the team hotel, the players should only have time with their families when it is agreed in the schedule and at no time should they be showing themselves up. I can't think of a single rugby league WAG that I know who would even want to break with this arrangement. All we want is for our loved ones to achieve their dreams and win the match!

The families will often have a meal together before setting off to a big fixture, travel together, sit together and rejoice together in victory. If we lose there is no need for words, we just do a shruggy shouldered, miserable faced, defeated look at each other.

If the England 11 is bored, lacklustre on the pitch and disjointed looking perhaps I can offer a suggestion to at least give them passion and team spirit?

Let Wayne Rooney catch a glimpse of Coleen and Kai in the stand as the National Anthem plays and try and stop him dreaming of scoring that goal for his first son. Let Frank Lampard cross that ball knowing that Frank Snr, the driving force behind his career, is watching from the posh seats. Let the wives and the kids and the mums and the dads enjoy the tournament together and create their own camaraderie because it does rub off.

My WAG friends and I are off to Wimbledon for the day tomorrow. We've been looking forward to it for six months and have spent the last one of them FB-ing each other about dresses, bags and shoes for the occasion. We, Leeds Rhinos, are Superleague Champions and our camp is a happy one. Take a leaf?

The Nightmare of The World Cup 2008 - Heading For Disaster

As it is now pretty much nailed on that Jason will be off down under again this year, for England's Four Nations campaign, I think it is time I put down in writing the personal hell that was 'The World Cup' in 2008. Who knows? It may act as therapy. I may get some sort of closure on the whole nightmare.

When the team left for Australia, on October 13th, I was 28 and had a nine-month old baby. I was on my own at home for three weeks before I went to Australia. My daughter, Evangeline, woke up in the night, every night, for about three hours. It was horrible.

We got to grips with Skype especially for the trip so that was nice, although some of the places where the team was staying didn't have a very reliable internet connection! In Townsville the boys were warned about the crocodiles outside and the lizards inside their rooms. It was quite an eye opener I hear.

When the team went to the World Cup they really believed that they had the potential to win this competition. It was an exciting time. England won their first match against Papua New Guinea, but were getting criticised for the performance despite the result.

As I was going to be away from home for three and a half weeks I decided to have a new burglar alarm fitted. The day before we set off I popped out, set the alarm, did whatever, came home, did whatever... Do you see the problem here? Fifteen minutes after I returned home I realised I'd forgotten to turn the alarm off yet it wasn't going off! Shoot. The alarm is not working and I am heading to the other side of the world for nearly a month in about 20 hours.

The alarm people had to come and fix it while I was doing last minute packing the next day.

While that was going on I had to take, and make, a number of very long phone calls to do with a sensitive issue surrounding one of the players. The least said about that the better. All's well that ends well. But it certainly ate into my packing/panicking time.

We arrived at the airport on Nov 1st in good time for our flight and, as I had a baby and was with my mum who uses a wheelchair, we were bumped to the front of the check-in queue. Things seem to be looking up hey? No. Two of the four Visas we had applied for weeks before were invalid because my dad and me were careless. On the forms I had got my passport number wrong and my dad got my mum's date of birth wrong. We seriously thought for a second that our across the world trip was about to end in Manchester.

As it turned out a reasonably quick phone call to immigration in Australia sorted it. I wouldn't advise sorting your visas in this way though as it was quite nerve wracking for a while.

So that's that. Checked in. Time to buy my P20 sunscreen and eat a ham and cheese croissant as I ALWAYS do at the duty free. Evangeline wore her hat that I made.

In the next installment I will write about why our flight was only slightly more chill-axed than that last one Samuel L Jackson caught. You know, the one with all the snakes on it.

My Husband Went to Catalans and All He Bought Me Was This...

My husband and I don't spend much time apart. So much so that the first time he went abroad to warm weather training I was absolutely distraught. He went to Portugal with Huddersfield Giants and a week seemed like all eternity. I told him that there was no way I wanted him to bring me a present back from the trip as I would never want reminding of the trauma.

He is very caring and thoughtful and bought me a present anyway, in case I was bluffing. I was not and five years later that gift is still in its airport carrier bag in a cupboard in our spare room. I have never opened it. (It is a pink watch;-))

This is the only time I have cut off my nose in such a spiteful manner towards my face!

Jason has always tried to bring me, our dog and now our daughter something nice back. If the poker on the trip has gone his way the gift gets an upgrade!

So here are the highlights:

The Good: The loveliest gift I've had was a Swarovski necklace brought back from the England v France friendly in Paris last year. I love it. It came off the back of a good week of poker for my husband, and possibly a bad one for Kris Radlinski. Sorry Mrs Radlinski. Oh but congrats as you've just had a baby boy.

The Bad: I guess I had been spoilt over the last couple of years with Leeds going to Florida for training camp. I've had a couple of nice Abercrombie bits from these trips. But this year they went to Whitehaven. Jason brought me back a bar of Kendal Mint Cake. He didn't realise it was just a mint flavoured sugar block favoured by stranded mountaineers.

The Ugly: Maybe ugly is a bit harsh. Not so much ugly but more unusual. From the England trip to France in 2008 I got a farmyard made out of luxury dark chocolate. The grass was green, the pig was pink and there was a delicate little fence around it! It tasted gorgeous and as I was still breastfeeding I felt no guilt about ramming the lot down.

Earlier you may have picked up on the fact that I mentioned gifts for the dog. She has had a leprechaun from Ireland, a Goofy from Florida and a monster from Loch Ness.

Our daughter has had some lovely gifts. She was seven days old when her daddy went to Florida for training camp. She got a Minnie Mouse toy and half a case full of dirt cheap clothes.

At the time of going to press (or clicking 'post') it seems Jason will be going away next week with England. Unfortunately this year's England v France tie takes place in Leigh. I wonder what souvenirs you can pick up there? You'll be the first to know!

Sky Sports Can Ruin Your Social Life

Sky Sports can ruin your social life. Well maybe that's a bit harsh, but I bet if you're a rugby league fan they've tinkered with yours before. This probably extends to many sports, but RL is my area of expertise.

I got a notification via Twitter earlier that Leeds Rhinos kick off time against Harlequins at the Twickenham Stoop has been moved back to 5pm. They did the same last year, but with less notice. We had already accepted a wedding invitation for that night. I ended up going with my baby and my mum and dad. Saddo! People kept asking where my husband was. I bet those who didn't were thinking they'd been right all along and our marriage had met with an untimely end. Only joking. We are, of course, a match made in heaven for all to see.

But the worst case of this last minute fixture changing for the Sky cameras came in 2006.

It was announced with four days to go that one of the biggest games of the season against St Helens, due to be played on Friday, 8th September, was to be put back to the day after for Sky TV scheduling. Nightmare! Four or five of the players and staff had hard-to-come-by tickets to see Robbie Williams at Roundhay Park, Leeds on Saturday. I was one of the persons affected and I bet there were loads of supporters in the same boat. We spent the next couple of days stuck to eBay buying and selling and crossing our fingers that we could get new, genuine tickets in time. I think I sold my Friday ones to Disko's wife and Francis Cummins was one of the others affected.

It all worked out in the end. Robbie was fantabulous and so were Orson and Basement Jaxx in support. I think the weather was better on the Friday too so I probably should be thanking Eddie and Stevo (who obviously make all the big executive scheduling decisions).

At the end of the day though, we know that Sky gives the game great coverage and promotion, and we're quick to whinge if we've not been on for a while. But next time a corker of a match gets put on Sky at the last minute, as you settle down with your pizza and your can of Bulmers Pear ready to enjoy, spare a thought for the poor season ticket holder who was meant to be on his best mates stag and the girl who booked Gaga six months ago!

.

Twin Towers or Blackpool Tower? The Middlesbrough Question

Ok, ok, I know. Wembley doesn't have twin towers anymore but it was a convenient comparison. We could also ask, a stroll along the Golden Mile or a strut up Wembley Way?

It's a few hours now since the Challenge Cup draw. My Leeds Rhinos got Wigan at our place. Not the best draw ever but not the worst.

I recently read about a football WAG who had expresses a desire for her fella's team to fail to make the play offs. Middlesbrough it was. The reason behind this apparent lack of support? She wanted to get off on holiday a bit earlier. This is surely the sentiment of a one half of a couple with way too much money coming in. There is also the chance that she made this comment with her tongue firmly in cheek.

In rugby league we all most definitely want to progress as far as we can in all cups and competitions. Firstly, because ambition and pride are at stake. Secondly because in some cases we can't afford much of a holiday unless we win summat.

So what so we do if we get ousted from the competitions early; Challenge Cup, Northern Rail, Grand Final Play Offs? We certainly don't get all the weekends off when subsequent rounds are played. They players are often brought in for training to make sure that they're not having too much fun. But usually we'll get one weekend to have a break and feel sorry for ourselves at missing out on a big event.

One year there was a BBQ at Keith Senior's house. Me and another wife who shall remain nameless decided to have a nosy round his house. We got our just desserts when his massive rottweiler bounded out of one room to protect his territory from the sticky beak intruders. Busted! I have rarely been so embarrassed.

Last year we went out of the Carnegie Challenge Cup rather early, thanks to Saint Helens. Quite a few of us ended up booking a weekend at Center Parcs. Is seems other Superleague teams were like-minded. We bumped into Richard Agar and the Huddersfield Giants' doctor among others. It was like a losers convention in the subtropical swimming paradise.

I have watched the Challenge Cup Final in various dreary B&B lounges on the west and east coasts and would always have much rather been watching the spectacle in the shadow of Wembley's two towers (or arch thing as it is these days) than the Blackpool Tower.

This year, as I click on 'publish post', this is still a possibility for me and my Leeds Rhinos. Here's hoping for zero chance of a holiday til November.