Regardless of whether we would have eventually recovered as a club, and it's impossible to say one way or the other, it was the psychology of the win amongst us long-term fans which seemed the most significant thing on that day. United had just won a treble and we were at our lowest ebb. Hope had been reborn over the spring for the first time in many many years. For many of us, and I had been watching City for 23 years already at that point, all we had ever done was blow it on the big occasion. The League Cup Semi 1981. The FA Cup Final 1981. Luton 1983. Pretty much every derby game. Liverpool 1996. Stoke 1998. It' had become part of the club's DNA to "bottle it".
And on 89 minutes, after such hope and excitement, we had bottled it again. I have never felt so low at a football match, and have never since. But then, out of nowhere, when all hope was gone...there was magic in the air. City had surpassed themselves and come back from the dead. Hope was reborn in the most dramatic and exciting way. Maybe it's because I was younger, but it took me nearly a week to come down from the high. I couldn't stop thinking about it and watching it.
There was something special about it which transcended a third division playoff final, but you had to have been immersed in the club's downward spiral to really appreciate it.