Since touching down in Las Vegas early last week, I’ve written thousands of words and captured countless moments on video.

Yet as the sport packs up and leaves Sin City to return to normality, none of it quite does this rugby league takeover justice.

This is an experience that simply has to be lived.

Twelve months ago, I watched from afar as Wigan Warriors and Warrington Wolves became the first Super League clubs to take the Vegas stage, gripped by a serious case of FOMO.

You tell yourself it can’t be as good as it looks. There must be hidden horrors, surely?

Aside from the eye-watering prices and the American custom of tipping for everything, this trip delivered in every way.

Back home, rugby league has to fight for attention. Here, it takes centre stage.

The explosion of noise and colour on Fremont Street, the accents mingling on the Strip, the sight of club badges at every turn – for once, rugby league doesn’t have to sell itself. This is the living embodiment of the sport at its most vibrant.

Yes, the red carpet and constant fanfare are a world away from a normal day in Super League but the heart of the sport remains the same: passionate fans, amiable players and a shared love for the game. It is the human side of the sport that shines through, whether it is a player exploring the city with a team-mate or stopping to chat with a fan.

For a few days, a new audience enjoys a taste of those qualities.

Rugby league has always defined itself by resilience rather than razzmatazz – yet, somehow, it thrives in the neon glare of Vegas.

Super League supporters have embraced the novelty of following their team stateside, descending on Sin City in their thousands with their unique tribalism.

Back home, it is part of the sporting fabric. Here, it stops passers-by in their tracks.

Even senior NRL officials were taken aback by the sheer volume, their open-mouthed expressions telling the story when Leeds Rhinos fans continued to belt out Mr Brightside long after the Allegiant Stadium DJ had cut the music.

Brad Arthur’s side lit up the biggest stage against a backdrop that, for all its American glitz, felt unmistakably English.

By half-time, the strains of Erasure had given way to echoes of Marching on Together, only for Hull KR’s anthem to return in the second half as the Leeds fans poked fun at their rivals.

The songs, the taunts, the cutting humour – this is a sporting culture rarely witnessed on this side of the Atlantic.

From conversations with locals, there is a mixture of confusion and curiosity amid the rugby league takeover.

The question many ask is what the point of all this is. Will it conquer America? Will it unlock new markets? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But for those who made the journey, the point feels simpler than that.

It can be seen in the wide-eyed fans on Fremont Street, the players laughing and joking under the neon lights and the shared pride that fills every corner of Vegas.

It’s a reminder that rugby league – born in working-class towns and often taken for granted back home – carries a culture unlike any other.

Maybe the point isn’t to change America; maybe it’s to change how we see ourselves.

Is it worth all the effort? Ask anyone involved – fan, coach, player or journalist – and the answer is the same: emphatically yes, even if Hull KR would rather forget how it ended.

For better or worse, it’s a week that will live long in the memory.