Your emotions/actions/whereabouts from 1-2 to 3-2

Usual place in SS2, just felt sick witnessing it, the worst I've ever felt watching City, ironic compared to some of the shit-shows in the 2nd and 3rd tiers but to be so close only for 'them' to have the last laugh was too much to take. To get this chance after the defeat at Arsenal and the run of wins and twists of fate only to then fuck it up was so painful. Just kept thinking how good the after match celebrations and summer would be if we had won and how it was now going to be torture, something I would always think about it. Honestly felt that it would take years for the club and fans to recover if we ever could. Dzeko, yeah but this wasn't going to be another Horlock was it.......and then......well you know the rest, cried then and still do now....
 
I was sat there just before Dzeko scored saying to my kids who wanted to go early that I’m staying to the end no matter what the result as I wanted to stand and clap that team off as they had given me the best football I’d seen at our wonderful club.
When Aguero scored I ended up 5 rows down being hugged by some big fat ugly fkrs and the blokes weren’t much better!
 
I was in hospitality as a treat. It was my 50th. I sat and chatted with Colin Bell and Joe Corrigan before the match. I had my soon to be wife with me (a Geordie). When Dzeko scored in injury time it felt like salt rubbed into a wound. So near yet so far. So City.
Then. THEN. My world exploded. The world exploded. I cried. I laughed. I hugged. I got hugged. I made friends for life with some randoms who I had never met before and have never met since.
Driving back upto the north east in my convertible, scarves fluttering, on that glorious day with hey Jude blasting out was topped off by bumping into a coach load of United supporters getting onto a coach at Wetherby services. I stopped in front of the coach. Stood up and sang my heart out...
Ivan ?
 
I didn't have a single drink before the game. Bad planning on my part. Made up for it afterwards though. Earlier on in that season a guy who I know had a few litre bottles of Jameson's going cheap - if you know what I mean. It turned out to be some special edition that he’d ‘inherited‘ and was worth £100 at least. I had a tot after every game we won that season so it went down at a steady rate. I had a decent wallop left after the game and even now I regret necking it in double quick time when I got home. It was that good. I followed it with lots of Joseph Holts finest in The Friendship in Prestwich, eventually getting home the next day. The only plus that came out of it for me was that I lived every bloody minute of that game, and, can still recall the whole shebang, looking back I am glad it worked out that way.
 
I've been going since 1967, with grandads, uncles, aunties, brothers, cousins and mates, but since the move to the new stadium, just me with my two young sons. All of us had season tickets for all those years. I've seen lots of highs and many more lows (the lows spanning 35 long years), made worse by the other lot over the road winning/cheating/fluking their way to success. But that day in May was our turn. Nothing was going to stop us, not even typical City.

Everton's late equaliser at old toilet was celebrated in the pub on the way to Wolves by all the City fans as it put the league back into our hands. Vinny's header confirmed it as united didn't even have an effort on target. We had good as won it as we celebrated joyously at Newcastle. It was a glorious sunny day for the QPR game as me and my two teenage sons made our way to the ground by public transport, as I wasn't driving this time as we'd surely be celebrating in town after the game. Me, my two sons 13 and 15, took our seats in the East stand. This was our time.

The joy in my two lads faces when Zabba scored was a joy to behold. They had both endured a bad five years up until that day. Their Mum, my wife, had died of cancer five years earlier and then my youngest was diagnosed with leukaemia just a year after that. He survived over three years of painful treatment and chemotherapy and had recently been diagnosed in remission. Throughout those hard five years it was watching City that gave us a release, bonded us, gave us all quality time. gave us something to look forward to and distract us when we needed distracting. So this game was payback for lots of reasons. We had deserved it.

At 2-1 down I immediately looked at my two teenage sons. They were turned into young boys. I'll never forget the look of pain and upset on my youngest's face. I couldn't do anything to help or ease that suffering. Nothing. Hopelessness and deep despair. We equalised and none of us celebrated. We knew it was too late. This was to be our day, payback, and I can't describe the low we were all feeling. There was the odd tear slowly shed by all three of us; we couldn't hide it. Then, well we all know what happened, and it happened in slow motion. The release. The joy. Limbs. Screams. Primeval. Guttural. I managed to pump my fists in the direction of my auntie, uncle and cousin sat in another part of the stand. They did the same to me. The final whistle. Relief. Tears. Payback complete.

We made our way into town, mates joining us on the way. Town was a bit of a let down to be honest. Yes, plenty of joyous Blues everywhere, but far too many pubs had shut "on Police instructions". It didn't spoil the evening though. Relief. Joy. Payback. That feeling will never be repeated by any football fan. It would take one's team yo yo-ing in three divisions for 35 years whilst their hated neighbours were arrogantly winning what seemed at the time to be the lot. Then to claw back an 8 point deficit at the end of the season to pip them on goal difference (due to a 6.1 away win) in the last minute of the last game will not happen again. And that ladies and gentlemen is why VAR is wrong, even if it was implemented fairly, seemlessly and decisions made quickly. But boy was the ride worth it! And we're still on that ride, riding high. Enjoy it.
 

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