AMID the desolation of the final hooter and the moments that followed it at Wembley on Saturday, I started to wonder why sport has such a grip on us?

Why do we put ourselves through it?

Because as Coldplay and Status Quo rang out in the National Stadium and Hull players lifted the trophy we thought would be ours, it was the last place I wanted to be.

The Warrington players were slumped on the ground, their dreams ripped into pieces by fate.

Of course 'the dream' is one of the things that draws us into sport.

I still fondly remember my first Wembley as a child in 1990 as Warrington lost again, although rather more emphatically than Saturday.

If I'm honest, I don't remember that much detail from the day. But what I do remember is loving the day. The whole day.

Getting the coach, wearing the blue sweater by nan had knitted (I am sure I looked great), and the noise as the players came out.

It was a dream that would lead me to blocking the Challenge Cup final weekend off in my diary for the next two decades, just in case.

Of course for most of that time, there was more chance of me fitting into that sweater today than there was of the Wire appearing at Wembley.

But I wasn't going to miss out on the dream.

The other pull on cup final day is a feeling of being involved in something so big.

Walking round the bowl outside Wembley before the game, it was impossible not to bump into people.

Friends, work colleagues, people you hadn't seen it years. Those people you smiled and exchanged pleasantries with without knowing their names.

It is like a town day out, hundreds of miles from home, where everything is familiar.

Wembley itself has an intangible draw. It still causes me to catch my breath when I walk inside, to get the hairs rising on the back of my neck.

This is a place where I have seen my fair share of disappointments, along with my fair share of delights.

But there is also a truth to sport. And in particular rugby league.

It is honest and pure. It is about working hard, pride in yourself and your team mates.

And that was never more evident than Saturday.

It was hot, really hot. As we now know, many of those players were hurting and it is tough. Yet you know you are watching something that matters and something you can believe in.

There are no grey areas on cup final day. It is black or white. It is win or lose.

But even though we lost, writing days later, I feel the same as I did in 1990.

I want to be back, and I want to be celebrating like those Hull fans.

So don't ask me what I am doing next bank holiday weekend. I have a space in my diary, just in case.