An ancient retainer led me down corridors lined with trophies and memorabilia – the thigh bone of a 1921 Invincible, a plaster-cast of Buck Shelford's scrotum, a springbok head, still with shreds of jersey attached. The architect's brief had been to design a building that reflected the laws of the game. Rooms led off corridors that circled back on themselves to form a bewildering maze. I was about to pronounce myself lost when the retainer opened the door on a room in total darkness.