Physical brutality on the field, aggressive passion expressed off it, Saturday’s coarse, raw and bloody Challenge Cup final was an antidote to the cynicism that pervades much of modern life.

All the more apt, then, that it should take place at the end of a sporting week which began with the closing ceremony of an Olympic Games which, in spite of many magical and memorable moments, has been tainted by the impact of commercialism, greed, privilege, entitlement and a doping inducing, win-at-all-costs mentality.

Wembley, unlike Rio, instead provided a showpiece for a contest that in many ways stands for the opposite of much that the greatest show on earth now accommodates and is consequently an exemplar for an alternative way. Make no mistake, no one gives more to try to win than rugby league players, but there is a genuine sense of honesty about the toil, right down to scrummage restarts that do not pretend to be something they are not in terms of contest, which befits the often misrepresented and misunderstood communities these men represent.

Confined, as it essentially is in terms of mass appeal, to territories either side of the Pennines and down Australia’s east coast there is a tendency to think of the British version of the game as revolving, Borders rugby union-like, around little northern towns and villages. The reality is rather different, as exemplified by the combatants at England’s national stadium. League is the preferred choice of a huge demographic and both Hull and Warrington - by no means the biggest municipalities in what are broadly referred to within the sport as Lancashire and Yorkshire – are bigger than Aberdeen, Scotland’s third city.

Traditionally this is a gathering that draws together all British league’s clans and while the shirts of clubs not engaged in proceedings were not as obviously visible as has previously been the case, that spoke to the vast numbers supporting the finalists while the impact of austerity is probably a mitigating factor too.

Admittedly Wembley’s 90,000 capacity means league cannot quite sell out the stadium, but 76,235 were there and many of them made their presence felt in the capital even on the way in.

Entertaining as many of the bawdy exchanges were, the rowdy tube ride from King’s Cross to Wembley Park would probably have been uncomfortable for a citizen of the metropolis hoping to quietly while away the journey with nose in book. While Warrington supporters were present, highly visible and engaged, Hull supporters predominated and there were several raucous renditions of their customised version of ‘Old Faithful,’ while Bing Crosby might have been surprised by the re-working of one of his classics into the memorable chant: “As the red, red, robin goes bob, bob, bobbin’ along… shoot the b*****d, shoot the b*****d, shoot the b*****d.” For the uninitiated their city rivals, Hull Kingston Rovers, wear red and are known as ‘the Robins’.

Once there they literally and metaphorically turned Wembley black and blue. Never have the colours of the opposing forces better represented the nature of a dramatically intense contest.

Those supporters contributed fully, league somehow having generated a culture that has absorbed the best elements of football and rugby union while discarding the less savoury elements. Principally working class, but welcoming to all, they let their feelings be known throughout, chanting those taunting chants and roaring both approval and disdain. They tend to prefer to congregate among their ain folk at either ends of grounds, yet all travel together on public transport in the knowledge that those overstepping the mark are most likely to be subjected to vigorous self-policing.

Players who represent the kinsmen among whom they grew up and continue to live meanwhile perform as they do motivated more by professional pride than the money itself. How much it matters could not, then, have been more obvious at the end as tears streamed down the rugged faces of tattooed bruisers of ageing men supporting a team in Hull FC that has become ever more important in an embattled part of the world, during a long history which saw it reach its 150th anniversary last year without the club ever having won at Wembley.

“It’s good to put that hoodoo to bed,” observed Mohe Finau, one of the handful of imports who have made Hull their home and who played a key part in both their tries which turned the match around, albeit a man who had made a shorter, perhaps professionally riskier journey to play for them - born as Marc Sneyd was in Lancashire - who rightly won the Lance Todd Memorial Award as man of the match.

Matty Russell, might have been a contender for that award had his score, the opening try of the match after 34 torrid minutes of relentless action, dominated by defensive solidity, proved as important to the outcome as, for a long time, it looked as if it might. However the brave little Scot who made selfless carry after selfless carry and was meanwhile left to chew on the bitter taste generated by the diet of losers that can also fuel future champions.

The opportunity is there to address matters quickly though, since the Challenge Cup final is not, as it once was, the season’s finale, while this was a relatively rare meeting in it between the current top two teams in Super League, who are consequently favourites to meet in October’s Grand Final.

“With crowds like that it’s outstanding just to play in and be a part of,” s. I’ve had a taste of it now and I’d like at least another crack at something like this and there’s no reason why this team can’t get here again.

“We need to get back on a winning streak and hopefully get to the Grand Final and then I’m looking forward to playing for Scotland in the Four Nations too.”

The Scots will be among the biggest underdogs in sporting history when they enter that autumn campaign against the sport’s three international super-powers, Australia, England and New Zealand, but that is just the sort of challenge leagueys tend to relish.