I was 23 but travelled down in the car with my Dad because I knew if I went with my mates my Dad would have to go on his own. I honestly hadn't even contemplated defeat but when Gillingham's second goal I just remember hearing my Dad say, "Shit" and I slumped in my seat head in hands. Never have I felt so empty at a City game. This was ten times worse than any relegations. There was a lad in front of me in front of me crying uncontrobally. I just felt numb.
When Horlock's goal went in I was unmoved. There was absolutely no point in celebrating becuase there was nothing to celebrate. We were in the Second Division for another season. It was no longer 'a laugh' - another season would ruin us. The crowds would drop and there was no guarantee that the new ground would be built now....
When that second goal went in, I have never, and will never feel the same way again unless I manage to survive a major disaster. Every single possible emotion was running through my body, disbelief, elation, relief...the one image I remember more than any is when I turned left to my Dad after realising that the ball HAD actually hit the net - he's a man of little emotion normally but the delight on his face was unbelievable and we both hugged each other before some hulk of a man I had never met before picked me up and twirled me around like a rag doll.
We will win something in my lifetime, of that I'm sure, but you won't be able to replicate that feeling. It's easy to look back now and presume we were always going to be in this position, not the wealth but an established Premiership club, but there was a time during that particular season when no-one could see us playing United in a league game, on a level footing, EVER again. That goal saved us from all manner of potential horrors and it's importance should never be played down or underestimated.
