My Undercover Adventure as a Leeds Beckett Student

Being a fresher in Leeds and not going to Varsity is disappointing; being in the same situation but as a third year student is, quite frankly, embarrassing. Before I begin, I would like to clarify that I am usually an upstanding and morally-conscious student and I blame the singular thing that unites all of the students of Leeds (Taurus cider) when I made the treacherous decision to betray my university. So yes, in my moment of desperation, I decided to go with a friend and their group to the rugby Varsity match, but as a Leeds Beckett supporter.

Walking towards the stadium to meet my friend (and supplier of the ticket), it was immediately noticeable that the student’s split Cardigan Road into two streams of purple and green, marching from their respective Hyde Park and Headingley territories. Some of the Beckett student’s wore camouflage print which I thought was ironic, being the true chameleon in the crowd. Despite me being on the ‘favourited’ side, there were undeniably moments of guilt and shame walking past my fellow student body; but for the sake of me not missing out, I got over it quickly, slapped some purple lipstick on my cheeks and downed cider that was double in price but not in quality.

As we arrived into the stadium, the chants rang out almost instantly. Whereas the University of Leeds students had the fairly playful ‘one plus one, two plus two, these are sums that you can’t do’, the Beckett students preferred the more direct and punchier ’rather be a poly, than a c***’. For those who are wondering, I am unable to pinpoint the exact moment where I lost most of my integrity, but it was somewhere between ferociously booing the Uni Of players walking past the South Stand and howling (probably with more passion than I even expected) the familiar ‘duh’s’ to The Fratelli’s ‘Chelsea Daggers’ when the Rhinos won 53-5.

A reminder of how rowdy the Beckett crowd can be (very) and how much was at stake (my life).

The rivalry did not fizzle out after the match though as it shifted from the Gryphons versus the Rhinos to Fruity versus Pryzm. The last time I went to Pryzm, there was a Matilda-themed cake eating competition which was heavily skewed towards a Beckett triumph. I remembered this miscarriage of justice as a reminder of how rowdy the Beckett crowd can be (very) and how much was at stake (my life). Yet as the night went on, it was comforting to realise how similar both events are, cheap and cheesy (even though only one is opposite a 24-hour McDonalds).

In the smoking area, away from what seemed to be a constant loop of Smash Mouth’s ‘All-Star’, I found myself in dangerous waters. After a drunken open-air conversation with my friend, I was confronted by someone who had suspicions about my Beckett disguise. Sweating the purple lipstick off my cheeks, I was relieved when they quickly changed the subject and asked for a lighter. Yet within the almost reverential exchange of the 99p lighter I had once stolen off a fresher, a silent peace treaty was established from this token which would come to represent his eternal confidentiality. In retrospect, there were a couple of times where I successfully pulled myself away from the edge of exposure, and all in all, I think I managed to get away with it. This was of course, until I decided to write about it for the Gryphon.

P.S.

Two of my other favourite chants, ’chino w******’ and ‘knick knack paddy whack, give a dog a bone, you can’t pay your student loan’ (I’m sure you can infer which one belongs to whom).

Matthew Rogan