The 18th Man: First Wigan game at Central Park was a real treat

Darren Wrudd

It has been a most interesting week pondering the memories of my first ever game watching Wigan Rugby League Club.

I remember it being a treat and exciting at Central Park as these mountains of men belted one another for no apparent reason whilst a ball was being thrown around too.

I was not as clued up as many of the youngsters are these days and if I am perfectly honest, I cannot remember much of the game.

I know we won, as the happy faces when left the ground were all wearing red and white scarves or woolly hats, as there were no replica shirts in the late seventies.

A vague memory of a wooden gas rattle every so often (ask your dad ) as the cheers went up could have been a later addition but it’s there in the misty recollections.

I thought about it and instead thought I would recall my first game at the brand new facility, the JJB Stadium in July 2000.

It was a big day for me really as I had persuaded my wife Glenda to come along to a game, a make or break scenario if ever there was one.

The scene was set, the best looking back line in the game with Radlinski, Connolly, Hodgson, Robinson and the legendary Steve Renouf.

The pack was pretty decent too with Farrell at lock, Cassidy, Betts, O’Connor, Newton and Cowie, I had big hopes for success.

The game was a proper rough and tumble with Warrington trying to upset the flow with some dubious tackling.

The main culprit was Tawera Nikau, who seemed to be in the middle of every flare up but slinked away from each as his forwards got involved. A proper little trouble maker but a great character in the game.

Stand out moments include some flying defending tackles by fullback Radlinski, saving tries left, right and centre.

Neil Cowie showed his character as the villain of the front rowers. Having received some special attention from a tackler, he slowly got back to his feet and stared at the offender for a moment before playing the ball.

The crowd instantly began the chant, Cowies gonna get you.

I remember a good win but needed to look up the score, which finished 26-4 and a very happy Frank Endecott came down the steps beside us obviously pleased with the result.

I was too, as Glenda admitted that it was better than she had expected and agreed to come along again.

Twenty two years later, having been all over the country watching the team we are committed season ticket holders, it is a great night out together which I would not swap for all the tea in China.

So whilst I remember shouting for Wigan on TV as a proper youngster, visiting the hallowed Central Park and sitting on the grass edge when it was packed, I cannot remember exactly when it all started.

I sometimes do get asked though, have I supported Wigan all my life. The answer is simple, not yet!

Robert Kenyon

With the information on the internet, I’ve managed to identify my first game which was Wigan v Hull KR on Sunday 29th November 1992. Wigan won 48 - 18.

I was seven at the time and had just started playing rugby myself so was keen to see it in the flesh.

My dad took me to Central Park where I would sit on the crush barrier on the Popular side, with him behind me.

He had been taken to games by his dad, with my grandad having been a big Wigan fan from when he was born in the 1920s.

He was taken as a lad by his dad too so it has been passed on through the generations, just as I have now to my son.

So five generations have been supporting Wigan since the club was founded, and like the song goes, cherry and white, it’s in our blood.

The first thing I remember about watching rugby league was the warm up before the game and seeing Andrew Farrar kicking the ball up so high it went higher than the stadium roof.

I looked on in awe at how high it went, and remember confusing Andrew Farrar with the young up and coming Andrew Farrell.

One opposition player stood out because he had an unusual sounding name to me, Bright Sodje.

It was the first time I’d witnessed a crowd and hearing random blokes shouting random things towards the players, I remember my dad shouting some funny insult to one of the players and everybody laughed, something along the lines of ‘You’d have caught it if it was a pint,’ I don’t know who to though.

I don’t remember much of the game, only those details but it was Bright Sodjes name or Andrew Farrars high kicks that brought me back, because when you’re that age you need to keep coming to games to feel the atmosphere and experience game day.

In those days you went to watch Wigan expecting to win by a decent amount and in a certain way. On one hand you could say we were spoiled but on the other hand it sets expectations and standards higher than any other club, which spurs us on to be successful.

Stephen Ford

A bit of a test of my memory but here it goes.

My first ever live Wigan game was in the 1966/67 season at Central Park. The previous season we had lost the Challenge Cup Final to Saints 21-2 due to Murphy’s skulduggery and Colin Clarke, our first team hooker, being suspended.

If Clarke had been available and if the ref had sorted Murphy out, we would have walked that final just like we had in 1965 when we beat Hunslet.

We were the greatest rugby team in the world. My four older brothers and all our neighbours (apart from Mrs Seddon) told me this.

We had the greatest players in the land and we were the best team in the league.

It felt great to be a Wiganer.

I couldn’t get any of my brothers to take me to a game so I arranged with a couple of mates from school that we would go to the opening home game of the season (we were all aged under 10).

Looking back I’m amazed that my mam let me go without an adult.

I cannot remember the entire team but it definitely contained Boston, Ashton, McTigue, Lake, Frankie Parr, Lyon.

Players with a wealth of experience, a shed full of trophies and some of the greatest rugby players in the world.

The opposition was Halifax. I’d never heard of them. Didn’t know any of their players. I expected an easy win

It was a case of how many Boston and Lake would score.

I remember I bought a programme so that I could record all of the points that we were going to score. Standing in the Hen Pen I couldn’t wait for the kick off. This was going to be easy.

At the end of 80 minutes we were battered 22-34. Even as a nine soon to be ten year old I knew that the final score had flattered us.

Johnny Freeman and Colin Dixon absolutely pulverised us.

They were brilliant. So much faster. They looked young and fit. We looked old and tired.

I don’t remember crying but I was, and still can be, a very poor loser so I’m sure at some point I would have had skrike, particularly if my brothers had taken the mickey on how the mighty Wigan had fallen on my first live game.

I vaguely remember telling my dad about the game and he wasn’t surprised when I told him about Freeman and Dixon.

I suddenly realised that we didn’t have all of the best players and other teams had their heroes and superstars.

What I didn’t realise was that our golden era was at an end. Our great team had gotten old together and it would take virtually another 20 years before we won the coveted Challenge Cup again.

My brothers knew the era was over as did the neighbours but no one told me.

That season we finished 17th in the league I think probably our worst ever position.

We lost to Blackpool and Whitehaven. Salford beat us in the Challenge Cup convincingly at home.

It was a desperate season. We won the Lancashire Cup though.

I went to my first final and we won. I was well and truly hooked.

Jon Lyon

I don’t remember anything of my first three rugby matches, but the fourth will be etched on my mind forever. May 4 1985, probably still the greatest Challenge Cup Final there has ever been, Wigan v Hull.

I remember travelling down on a minibus as an eight-year-old with my dad and his work mates, a group of women making a fuss of me and plying me with more fizzy drinks than any child should ever have.

I will never forget arriving at the old (proper) Wembley stadium, in awe at the sheer size of it.

Everywhere was a sea of black and white and cherry and white, over 99,000 fans in attendance.

According to my dad I burst into tears when Kevin James scored early on for Hull.

This young fan had yet to learn you never write Wigan off.

As the game wore on Wigan became more dominant and many of their stars began to shine.

Australian winger John Ferguson was magnificent. For his first try he bamboozled Dane O’Hara with some fancy footwork and left him for dead.

As Ray French said in commentary: “He could sidestep on a thruppenny bit.”

His second try was much more opportune, picking up a loose ball near the halfway line and racing in, never looking like being caught.

The star of the show was Brett Kenny.

He was coolness personified as he strolled out onto the pitch before the game with his hands in his pockets.

He was a lot less casual as he sauntered through Hull’s defence and ran half the length of the pitch midway through the first half to give Wigan the lead.

I don’t think I have ever seen such a balanced and graceful runner since.

He also had a hand in one of Ferguson’s tries and set up another for Shaun Edwards on his way to winning the Lance Todd trophy.

The other moment that stays with me is the iconic try by Henderson Gill.

Wonderful passes deep inside their own half from Kenny and David Stephenson set Gill away and he

flew 70 yards past a despairing dive from Hull fullback Gary Kemble to dive over the line and unleash one of the most famous grins of all time.

A phenomenal try which showcased everything that is great about our sport.

Despite holding a decent lead, Hull scored three late tries, including two from the very impressive James Leuluai, father of our current captain Tommy, which left Wigan clinging on.

When the final hooter sounded I felt absolute joy, a different kind of tears falling. I certainly didn’t know as I watched Graeme West lift that trophy just how many more times I would get to see us win the cup over the next ten years.

That game was truly breathtaking, and there was never a chance after watching that I could be anything but hooked for life on the greatest sport there is.