block 107, row 35, seat 19 - the ticket (along with the one for Blackburn a year later) is framed with a signed shirt in the cellar
utterly broken. All that emotion of clawing our way into the play offs, getting through to the final - at Wembley for the 1st time since 85(?) to face Gillingham - a game that not even City could lose surely??
One down - still hope. Two down - no hope.
I left my seat and stood in the concourse underneath, as I just couldnt bear watching Gillingham celebrate winning promotion. I couldnt bear to watch City slump to another season in the 3rd tier.
Heard us pull one back, but too little too late. Stayed where I was. It wasnt going to make a difference now. Then the most beautiful sound ever as the second hit the net.
Ran back up to join the delirium. dancing and hugging men women and children.
Watched the extra time, but as I cant bear to watch penalties, it was back down to the concourse. Stood with a copper who told me as the pens were scored/saved/missed.
If the night out down the West End had been good the night before ( with the soundtrack being the sound of broken glass, and "O Terry Cook, hes not...)- it didnt touch the train journey home, on the supposed dry train. Two TAG coppers walked through as we left London and then just left us to it. Party time
So didnt actually see City score in any way - but it doesnt detract from the memories. Have seen the gaols so often it feels like I witnessed em first hand.
God bless Kev, Paul and Nicky. I dread to think where wed have been if we didnt get that result