Hoops of black and white, kindred bob-hats and scarves.
Turnstiles click a chorus to the music of money; shuffling feet
sense the old mud-paths leading to tarmac and stone;
vocal myriad, smell of ale,
ubiquitous hot-dog treat.
Granite stairs lift you to the umbrellaed hubbub.
Floodlights like sentinels,
guard your niche in your elite.

Pungent wintergreen heralds warriors with greased and shiny faces.
13 imagined our lucky number, sometimes not, sometimes grave.
A game of beauty played, by gazelle and bison
and mammoth insight.
Our extended clan as vital in loss as flags of victory waved.
Swaying fortunes tagged by the thunder of favour;
the sound of silence amid,
pipe and cigar smoke curling through the aroma of aftershave.

An end where a clock ticks in its own world, oh, tempus fugit.
Another records not the fallen just precious points,
on a scoreboard stood proud
at the firmament's moods and wrath.
Gains defended by the stretch and grind of muscles and joints.
In two halves no quarter meekly given nor taken;
in this true sport of kings,
on a real field of dreams now only nostalgia anoints.

This ground of memories of Sundays, nights and other days.
Where our tribe won and lost in no phoney war.
On our sward of millions of blades of green.
Cocooned by terraces of concrete,
timber stand, and the roar
of our horde; neath those roofs of grey
asleep in arms of gelid steel.
Now a sepia-print in the mind; oh we heard, oh how we saw!

by Norton

been there many any times over the years, actually played there as well, unfortunately not for widnes,

Thanks a lot guys for your responses. I'm gladdened this evoked some memories, both earlier ones and more contemporary.
Cheers.

I always remember running on to get Emosi Koloto's tie ups, running into him then bouncing off him as I grabbed them..

Then there was the time we were on sky in the early nineties, we were getting beat by Wigan and I thought the game had ended, I ran on and gave Shaun Edwards a mouthful about being a cheating pie eating git only to look up and see all the players running back to take a kick off from a penalty.. Needless to say I made a sharp exit...

The late 80s and early 90s were a great time to be a Widnes fan. For anyone whose not witnessed our team at the top you have my sympathy... Hopefully the good times will return soon.

Was that the same afternoon somebody stood in the cowshed threw a egg at Shaun Edwards?
Don't remember being there, but remember hearing the story from a few eye witnesses and spotting it on TIW ages ago. Shameful really when you think about, but never mind.