Me and my Dad both cried.
It's been a horrible few weeks, as he's literally just been diagnosed with Cancer. We're still at that stage where we don't quite know the prognosis so everything has been a bit up in the air.
For this reason, i just so desperately wanted to win the league with him by my side. It sounds dramatic, but i don't know what the next year will be like, so this moment meant so much to me. I've lived with him welling up with pride everytime he tells me about Colin Bell, Buzzer, Neil Young, Francis Lee, Mike Doyle etc and how he was one of the first on the pitch at Newcastle in 68.
I've seen the transformation in him. From him initially struggling to get his head round the money side of things, and him struggling to initially understand my excitement at the likes of Silva, Tevez, Yaya Toure and even Mancini.
This season has been different though. Those players have started to become his new heroes. Every single one of them. From Zabba right through to Aguero.
Then to this game.
From joy to absolute despair in the space of half an hour. The look of dejection on his face. He's seen it too many times. So have i, and i'm 35 years younger. When that second QPR goal went in, i'll never be able to describe how horrible i felt. Beyond comprehension.
My Dad tried his best to cheer me up. Pretending he wasn't that bothered.
Then the corner in the 91st minute. "It's going to be just like Gillingham here" he said with a little grin on his face. He always says stuff like that when we're losing - "There's a goal coming, i can feel it". That's what he's like.
Then it happened. We scored and he believed. I was a mess. Hoody over my head. So close yet so far. Time had surely run out. He still believed, or if he didn't, he was making a good fist of convincing me.
He cracked open a Carlsberg and sat up on the sofa. "He-arrr kid, it's on". I feel a little less pessimistic, but only a tad.
Then Nasri runs the ball out of play. Unwittingly. Game Over.
I look at the floor. By the time my head is back up, De Jong has the ball. Last chance saloon. He played the ball into Aguero. He plays it to Balotelli. Balotelli turns. My dad grabs my arms. Balotelli to.....AGUERRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
I jump up from the floor. I defy gravity. We're going mental. We're hugging. It's all a blur. We're not crying. We're just shouting....and jumping....and i'm dancing a bit. My dad's phoning his brother. My Mum bangs on the floor to tell us to shut up.
No tears yet though. My Mum makes her way downstairs. We show her what we've witnessed. Even she is left gob smacked. Everyone is.
We carry on watching the celebrations. Still grinning from ear to ear.
Then the trophy presentation. My Dad see's Buzzer, and Book and Lee and Bell. He looks at me and says "That's fucking brilliant son. My heroes" and he starts balling his eyes out. In all my time on this earth, i've never seen something mean so much to someone. My waterworks started. My Mum's followed.
I hugged my Dad and told him "we've fucking done it dad".
To share a moment like that, with someone you love so much is the greatest feeling in the world.
