ON Saturday I stepped off the football treadmill and onto the rugby one, to cover one of the top matches in Premiership One of the Scottish club championship.
In terms of stature this league is Scottish Rugby's equivalent of the SPL - only an SPL without the Old Firm, who are playing in an international club league.
In terms of quality this match was probably the equivalent of an Irn-Bru First Division match, rather than an SPL encounter. Over the years I've done my share of First Division football (more than my share in fact), so it was interesting to make comparisons.
The club game is supposed to be amateur, except we all know some of the bigger clubs are paying players, particularly the "Kilted Kiwis" imported from New Zealand and Australia (there isn't a catchy term for Ozzies playing in Scotland, however); we also know that expenses to some Scottish players are generous, but the Scottish club league is NOT paying over-the-odds for mediocrities, unlike its football equivalents.
The commitment was total, the fitness levels way above anything you'll see in the SFL or even the SPL, but, it's a lot cheaper to get in. The ground facilities weren't quite up to the home team's football rival, but this was more than compensated for by among other things, the catering.
You can stick your pies and Bovril where the sun don't shine - pre-match I had a brilliant hot roast pork roll, with crackling and apple sauce, washed down by a generous cappacinno. Very nice, great value for money, but nothing compared to the roast beef lunch, washed down by a very nice Claret, the meal enhanced by stimulating conversation with the former Scotland and Lions legend lunching at the next table - and no, I wasn't in corporate hospitality - merely in the host club's club house prior to kick off.
But the big change is noticed after the match. In rugby, no hanging around outside dressing rooms or at tunnel mouths, waiting for the rival managers to deign to speak to us, their perception of the hacks from Hell. Within five minutes of the final whistle, we of the press pack were on the pitch, hearing first-hand the thoughts of the respective coaches. These were delivered with unfailing courtesy and understanding.
Later, the report for the Sunday paper filed, it was into the board room for a very pleasant chat with the committee-men from both clubs AND the referee, who was only-too-willing to explain a couple of controversial decisions.
Now, to be fair, one or two football referees will respond with civility and open-ness to requests for an explanation of how they dealt with a flash-point, but this is strictly on a "no names, no pack drill" basis - and not all are so approachable or accommodating.
If you want to speak to a player, no problem, they are all in the club bar, mingling with the members and supporters, while the majority of the fans do not head for the nearest boozer the minute the final whistle sounds - no need to the club bar is there, it's open and it's generally cheaper than the pub.
Usually, at a football match, I file on the whistle any reports which are scheduled for "on-the-whistle" sending; then it's down to get the quotes from managers and players and I am usually in the car and heading home by 5.30pm at the latest.
On Saturday, I was still enjoying the craic in the clubhouse at 6.30pm. It's a much more civilised game.
Football may be a game for gentlemen, played by hooligans and rugby a game for hooligans played by gentlemen - that description was borne out on Saturday.
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