They delivered. An opening home win is more than two competition points.

There has been significant change in the line up this year. New signings, new energy threaded through the squad. In that first match, you could see the intent, strong carries through the middle, sharper edges out wide, a willingness to work for one another in defence.

It wasn’t perfect and neither was the weather. But it was convincing enough to send supporters home believing.

Round Two, away from home, was a sterner test. An away defeat early in the season can either unsettle a team or sharpen it. The response in the coming weeks will matter more than the result itself.

Two matches in, what’s clear is this: this is a side in transition, and that can be an exciting place to be.

If you’ve walked to the stadium on match night as a family, you’ll know the feeling.

The gradual swell of noise as you get closer. The red and yellow colours bright against the evening sky. Children weaving between adults, scanning for the mascot. The smell of food drifting through the entrances. Someone inevitably asking for chips before you’ve even found your seat.

A Dragons home game works surprisingly well with children. The Stade Gilbert Brutus feels intimate rather than overwhelming. You’re close enough to hear the collisions, to see the focus in a kicker’s stance, to feel the collective intake of breath before a conversion attempt.

You don’t need to know every rule to be caught up in it. Rugby league moves quickly. Six tackles. A shift wide. A break down the touchline. When something opens up, the reaction is instinctive. By the end of the game, the noise and the flashing lights after a score feel familiar, part of the rhythm of the night.

And that shared reaction, that’s what makes it different from watching at home on the sofa.

There is something reassuring about the structure of it. You arrive. You settle. You eat something simple. The game begins. Eighty minutes later, you spill back out into the evening with something to talk about.

For parents, it’s an outing that doesn’t require too much explaining or too much planning. The match length is manageable. The atmosphere is lively but friendly. There are other families all around you, children wrapped in scarves that are slightly too big.

For the kids, it becomes an event. Spotting the mascot. Watching the warm up from the stands. Trying to work out who their favourite player is going to be this season, especially with so many new faces in the squad.

And for all of you together, it becomes a shared memory.

For many of us living in the Pyrénées Orientales, supporting the Dragons at a home match is a way of participating in the rhythm of the place.

The Catalan flags in the stands. The mix of accents in the queue for coffee. The shared groan when a pass goes astray. The shared cheer when a defensive line holds firm.

People may hear your English and wonder which side you are on, so wear your Catalan colours. It’s a simple gesture, but it matters. There is a sense of belonging to a place that sport can bring easily.

After the win in Round One and the setback away in Round Two, this weekend feels quietly significant. Not dramatic. Not season defining. Just important in that steady, building way.

Home support can steady a team finding its feet. It can give confidence to new players still learning their surroundings. It can turn tight moments.

Seasons are long. They twist and turn. Rarely are they defined by a single match in February.

But there is something satisfying about being present at the beginning, when new players are bedding in, when combinations are forming, when belief is still fragile but growing.

The Dragons have shown they can win at home. They’ve been reminded how demanding the road can be. Now the story continues back at the Stade Gilbert Brutus.

You could follow it from a distance. Or you could walk through those gates as a family, take your seats, pass down hot chips, and feel it unfold in real time, the noise rising, the tackles landing, the sense that something is taking shape.

The season is young. The squad is evolving. The foundations are there. This weekend is another step. But perhaps the most lasting part of it is not the league table or the final score.

It’s what the children take home. They remember the noise when the team runs out. They remember standing on tiptoes to see over the row in front. They remember choosing a favourite player and talking about the mascots.

They learn the rhythm of the game without realising they’re learning it. They feel what it’s like to be part of a crowd that rises together, cheers together, groans together. They begin to understand that this is their place too.

In a region that many families have chosen rather than been born into, that matters. Wearing red and yellow. Shouting for the home side. Feeling the pride when the Dragons cross the line.

The kids felt it. I felt it. The people around us felt it.

And sometimes belonging begins with something as simple as a shared cheer under the stadium lights.