How ironic it is that the home of the hated enemy of Leeds United should become the favourite stamping ground of the Leeds Rhinos.

In successive years, the city's blue and yellow-clad men of steel have turned up as underdogs for Super League's showpiece Grand Final and walked away with the trophy.

On both occasions they have left shell-shocked opponents St Helens staring at the floor and wondering how a season's hard graft can be thrown away in just 80 minutes.

But, make no mistake, Leeds deserved to take the spoils – both for themselves and for their magnificent fans who sang their hearts out throughout the game to eclipse their rivals at the opposite end of the stadium.

It was a privilege to be at Saturday's final and to join in the celebrations.

I missed last year's event, having chosen to stay in front of the telly to watch the England Rugby Union team's World Cup semi-final against France.

I wasn't going to miss out again.

Mind you, I did almost miss my pre-match dinner.

Well, to be accurate, it wasn't so much a case of nearly missing it as nearly eating it in the wrong restaurant.

Accompanied by Miss S (the elder), standing in for Mrs S, I made my way into the very posh surroundings of the Old Trafford corporate suites and headed straight for what I thought was our restaurant.

We asked for our table (six) and were taken to it to find it already occupied by two blokes. Table five next door was empty so we plonked ourselves down and, feeling decidedly peckish, we tucked into our bread rolls and ordered a couple of drinks.

A sixth sense told me something was not quite right.

"Are you sure we should be here?" I said to my daughter.

"I think so," she replied. But then she added: "Look dad, there's some people in jeans."

The alarm bells started to ring. I've absolutely nothing against people wearing jeans but our invites specifically said 'no jeans'.

I approached a waiter.

"Is this the Trafford Suite?" I asked him.

"No, sir, this is the Grill Room. The Trafford Suite is on the next floor."

Hastily abandoning our drinks (which I did pay for, by the way) and our half-eaten bread rolls we headed upstairs where we joined an absolutely splendid table of guests invited by competition sponsor, engage.

There we were treated to a slap-up meal and the odd drinkie (this time for free) before the main course of prime Rhino beef on a bed of crushed Saints was served up on the pitch.

I left the stadium feeling elated but also wondering about who might have followed us onto table six in the Grill Room.

If they were Saints fans they would have had a really horrible day – not only was their side well beaten but somebody had nicked their bread rolls as well...

FOOTNOTE: It pays to keep your eyes open when in the office.

Having watched the mighty Rhinos lift the cup on Saturday night, I naturally enough expected it to be quickly and safely locked away in the Headingley Carnegie trophy cabinet.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I walked past the editorial floor kitchen on Tuesday lunch-time to see it sitting on the table.

Naturally enough, I couldn't resist the temptation to "Do a Sinfield" and lift the thing – although with somewhat less charm and grace than the Leeds skipper showed at the weekend, as this picture so accurately illustrates.

Still, at least I didn't drop it.


Price of being brought to book

OH, how Mrs S and I have hung our heads in shame for the last few days.

Right in front of our eyes, our darling daughter received the first booking of her near-decade-long footballing career on Sunday.

After she had had the back of her ankles rapped by a Newcastle United defender – and then seen the free kick awarded against her – she kicked the ball away in disgust.

Unfortunately for her, the ref spotted this unladylike conduct and reached into his top pocket.

He booked the other girl as well, but this was scant consolation.

The good name of Scott will now be dragged before the FA hierarchy and, so I am told, a £12 fine will be the outcome for this breach of the association's much vaunted 'Respect' agenda.

It was a really strange sensation watching her name going in the book.

I felt genuinely embarrassed and, talking to her afterwards, I think she did too.

I wonder if Vinnie Jones' mum and dad ever felt that way about their son?

These things can, of course, happen in the heat of battle – and I'd rather she kick a ball away than kick an opponent.

At least the incident fired her up to the extent that she capped off an otherwise decent afternoon by scoring a goal.

As for the ref, I reckon he got the decision right – although I felt a bit miffed as only minutes before we'd handed him a couple of cold and flu tablets from our car because he was suffering from a headache.

If I knew where he lived, I reckon I might send him a bill for the tablets – plus service charge and VAT – for, you guessed it, twelve quid.


Bard stripped bare

MUCH has already been written – not all of it favourable – about Lenny Henry's plans to star as Othello in Leeds next year.

However, I have managed to get my hands on a top secret document which shows the alternative options which were being considered for next year's Shakespearean production at the Playhouse.

Had the Brummie funnyman not decided to take a stab at the bard, the following productions were, apparently, ready to take Othello's place.

Hamlet, with ex-Manchester United and Denmark goalie Peter Schmeichel;

King Lear, starring Ken Bates;

Romeo and Juliet, with Russ Abbott and Bella Emberg;

Two Gentlemen of Verona, starring the Chuckle Brothers;

Macbeth, starring Ronnie Corbett;

A Comedy of Errors, featuring Peter Ridsdale and David O'Leary.