The FA Cup. Part 20.

Saturday, 17^th May 2014

Final

Arsenal v Hull City

Wembley Stadium

Wembley

HA9 0WS

K.O. 5.00pm

Half time 1-2

Final score 2-2

After Extra Time 3-2

0-1 James Chester  04 mins

0-2 Curtis Davies  08 mins

1-2 Santiago Cazorla  17 mins

2-2 Laurent Koscielny  71 mins

3-2 Aaron Ramsey  109 mins

Attendance 89,345

Miles travelled approximately 60

Introduction

If you need to go the bar then now’s the time to do it, we’re going to be here a while…

Chapter One

The Days Before The Day Before

So, it’s Monday 10^th February, Dave the plumber is finishing off my bathroom, Virgin Media are connecting me to the fibre optic network and a WPC with the most amazing eyes and beautiful smile is giving me my crime number, for the incident, from the day before, when my car was vandalised, while walking around my flat telling me that I’m a very neat and tidy person… for a bloke…

Still with me? While all of that was going on my porn machine went “PING”. I opened the E Mail. My jaw hit the floor. What I read went something along the lines of…

Hello, you don’t know me but, my name is [insert name] and I’m a friend of [inset a different name]. He mentioned your blog and your FA Cup trail, which I’ve read with great interest and this is why I’m contacting you. I have access to FA Cup Final tickets. Would you like a pair of tickets?

Obviously I’m paraphrasing there but you get the idea.

I read the E Mail three times to confirm I was reading it correctly. Was someone who I’ve never met before and probably never will meet offering me a pair of tickets to the Cup Final? I continued to sit there staring at my porn machine.

Eventually I replied to the E Mail, I’ve forgotten what I wrote but it was something along the lines of, “I F*** ING LOVE YOU…! CAN I HAVE YOU’RE BABIES!!”

Obviously I’m paraphrasing there but you get the idea.

The Semi Finals came and went and within a few hours of my blog going online my porn machine went “PING”. True to his word, The Smoking Man offered me a pair of tickets. Pick your price range continued The Smoking Man. He sent me a Wembley Stadium seating plan with price range, bloody hell fire, this wasn’t even on the FA website yet and I know because I looked.

Finally I decided on the most expensive seats in the house (Red), after all, I’m never going to do a Cup Final again and it is my daughters 13^th birthday on the 19^th May so let’s live a little.

The plan was, I was going to take Friday 16^th off from work, drive up to Cumbria during the day time and wait for my daughter to come out of school before driving back down to Hertfordshire through the evening/night time, do the Cup Final on the Saturday 17^th and drive back up to Cumbria straight after the game so that she could have cake on Sunday 18^th before going back to school on the 19^th, her birthday. What a way to become a teenager.

But, I hadn’t envisaged the car crash.

My daughter said that she didn’t want to do the Cup Final. Now, you may or may not remember that she doesn’t like football and I had promised her that I’d never take her to another one, EVER. I tried to explain that this was not going to “the football” it was going to “the Cup Final”, but she was having none of it. I was GUTTED!

She’s been at the Extra Preliminary Round Replay, she’s been at the Fourth Round Qualifying Replay all 700 miles and 24.5 hours of it. She’d been at the start and the middle why not be at the end. She’d done the hard bit. She’s paid her dues. She could look the world in the eye, but no, she was really having none of it. Part of me admired her convictions while part of me wanted to put her straight on E Bay or up for adoption, whichever was easier…

Two days later I asked again. She still didn’t want to go. I couldn’t pretend not to be disappointed, because I was. I also couldn’t pretend not to be proud of her standing up for what she wants to do and not follow her damn fool of a Dad on some damn silly adventure, because I was.

From a strictly personal point of view my daughter not going to the Cup Final was going to save me approximately £400 and two days sleep, I just didn’t want her to look back at a missed opportunity.

So, there I was, one Cup Final ticket to many.

Now, I’m a great believer in fate, I’m also a great believer in what goes around comes around. Now, I’ve got a spare ticket and I’ve got a spare ticket for a reason and I’m going to do something positive with it.

I slowly and surely made my way through a list of people that had helped me get to the Cup Final, not one Hull City fan amongst them. I went back through the list, I was sure Tony at Hemel Hempstead was a Gooner.

I spoke to Tony. The Deal was done. He did however draw the line at dressing up like a Tiger. No sense of adventure some people. Tony The Tiger… Get it?

If all of that wasn’t enough on Thursday 30^th April I was delivering in Long Melford, a beautiful little village in Suffolk. I’d finished my deliveries and all I had to do was get home before running out of hours. I was trying work out all the maths, the short route wasn’t necessarily the quickest, the longest route wouldn’t be fastest, but it would if I got stuck on the short route, the longest route put an extra 20 miles on the journey, but it would be clearer, I hoped, miles per hour would be 30 on that road, 40 on this road, bridges the other road.. EEK!

While all of that was going on my phone beeped. A Hull City fan who I’d never meet and don’t know sent me a random text message via Google+ (whatever that is) asking if I needed a Cup Final ticket because he was in the queue and was happy to get me one. WOW!

I tried to reply but my phone was having none of it. Once I got home I sent him an E Mail thanking him.

Karl Arthur, if you’re out there. THANK YOU! The beers are on me.

The weeks passed by. The tickets for the Final went on sale. All the usual complaining about ticket allocations and I felt completely disconnected from it, because I didn’t have to worry about getting tickets. 

Also, I have no connection with Hull City FC or Hull. I’m not a fan and I don’t live in or around Hull. My local high street isn’t being decked out in amber and black, my local butcher hasn’t produced some weird flavoured sausage, the kids from the local school aren’t doing some God damned awful song, there is no buzz, there is nothing.

While my local press made very little mention of Arsenal reaching the Final.

Life, for me, just continued like it always had done.

In the middle of all of that happening, I spent four days in Cumbria at a wedding. No phone. No internet. No stress. The wedding clashed with last game of the Premiership and the arrival of my Cup Final tickets. Again, not any hint of a buzz.

And then it happened.

Chapter Two

The Day Before

Because I didn’t have to go to Cumbria to pick up my daughter it meant I still had Friday 16^th free, so I made the decision to go over to Wembley to pick up programmes and merchandise so that I didn’t have to carry them around on Saturday and thus freeing up my day.

I slowly made my way over to Wembley. The weather was nice and warm. The journey over was stress free. I got Wembley Park and as I stood there taking photos of the arch I was approached by a police officer. “Excuse me Sir”, said the officer, “You aren’t allowed to take photos of the arch anymore”, he continued. “Yeah, one of your fellow officers said the same thing to me at the Semi Final”, I said while laughing.

Let the banter begin. He took my camera and took some photos of me in front of the arch. We had a real good chat. Turns out he’s a Palace fan. Can you imagine, a police officer AND a Palace fan… poor bloke…  RIP Paul Nixon, another FA Cup Semi Final victim.

I told him about our plans to have a minute’s applause on 56 minutes. He Smiled and agreed it was the right thing to do.

Before long I was making my way up Olympic Way taking photos of anything and everything that moved or didn’t. The vibe was changing. The buzz was arriving. I continued to smile as I walked around the stadium. I took advantage of the space around the Bobby Moore statue.

As I made my way around the stadium I bumped into more police who were in the middle of an anti-terrorist operation. As I stood there taking photo’s I was approached by a police officer. “Excuse me Sir…” He said… He we go again…

He told me what they were doing and why and handed me some information. Nice to know the Met Police are on the ball. See what I did there…? Cup Final… On The Ball… Come on, keep up, I’m not going to explain every in joke…

As I continued my circuit of the stadium I bumped into Chris Hollins. He asked if I knew where the West Gate was, I did, and I sent him in the other direction, towards the East Gate, which is even funnier because we were almost outside it (the West Gate that is).

Ten minutes later I bumped into him again after he’d walked all the way around the stadium.

I must be honest it was a genuine mistake on my part and as he passed we just laughed and I said sorry. He took it in all in good spirits.

By now I’d spent a good few hours around the stadium just soaking it all up when I suddenly noticed a group of young lads handing back their Wembley Tour passes. I dived inside the reception and asked about the tours. The web site had stated that there weren’t any tours available today because of the Cup Final and it was right, but what they were doing was a sort of mini tour. For £10 you could do the tour except dressing rooms and tunnel. RESULT!

I paid my money and formed my own queue of one. While I waited I started to chat with some of the Wembley staff. Here, “come with me” one of them said and took me into the Bobby Moore restaurant bar thing. Bloody hell fire. So this is how the other half do football matches… The room was immaculate and was already to go. No detail to small. No price tag to big.

I was also told that if I’d have turned up an hour or so earlier I would have seen the new FA Cup. *SIGH*

Eventually the tour started, four of us, me and three Germans. We made our way to the Club Wembley section, we stepped out into the light and I almost burst into tears. I was buzzing my tits off. A vast deep void of bright red seats greeted us. The Sun blazed into the bowl. The pitch was the brightest darkest deepest green I’d ever seen. Both sides of the roof were open. It was stupidly warm and sticky. TV crew members were still placing cables. Someone else was setting up the flying camera. Free flags were being placed at every Arsenal seat. Rattles and flags in the Hull City end. But there, in the Royal Box, approximately 17 inches high, shining brightly in the sun light was the FA Cup. I have absolutely no idea how I kept it together.

I was invited to have my photo taken with The Cup and lift her up, but I couldn’t, I just simply couldn’t, secretly inside I was a wreck. It must have shown. I could hardly walk never mind pick up The Cup. I couldn’t even touch her, I just couldn’t do it.

I feel a bit silly admitting that.

Before I left the tour I took advantage of the temporary European Cup exhibition that was on display and it’s well worth a look.

While I was inside Wembley word had started to break that Arsenal had gone public with photos of the open top bus and had published their planned route, while their players had given interviews saying “WHEN” we win The Cup. Will people ever learn…

Remember that running joke that me and Leon from BT Sport had about, “at some point the hospitality will stop”? A Wembley staff member had contacted his supervisor to see if I could get access to the new FA Cup… Take a deep breath… It was a no, security was simply too tight. But the point is that everyone was up for it, it’s just that security comes first and rightly so.

A quick trip to the stadium shop to buy what I needed to buy before going off into the West End to buy my daughter’s birthday prezzie. Some of the staff remembered me from the Semi Final, which was weird, but nice.

I made my way back to Wembley Park and I was buzzing. I almost skipped and ran down Olympic Way, I was flying, I was laughing like a drain. I just wanted to stand still and scream at the top of my voice.

I did go into the West End but my head was all over the place and I simply couldn’t concentrate. I got home around 7.30pm and started to download the photos before contacting everyone about meeting up tomorrow.

Chapter Three

Cup Final Day

I’d set my alarm clock for 8am. I’d wasted my time. I was up before it had time to get anywhere near 8am. I was buzzing, beyond buzzing, God I was so up this. 

E Mails and texts were sent.

A very quick trip into town, which I bounced around like Tigger and by 11am I was at the train station waiting for the train into London, which is usually the best place to wait for a train, at a train station.

The sun was already high in the sky and it was hot, really hot, it hurt to stand in direct sunlight and I was sweating like a 1970’s BBC TV presenter in a court room.

I had a weird flash back to that day in August, St Margaretsbury v London Tigers and I started smile like a loony. I was wearing the same clothes, well apart from a different footy shirt, but everything else was the same, the heat, the smells, the nerves…

I started to chat with a Gooner on the platform, he said that he was nervous about the game and wasn’t too happy about what Arsenal had done Re- the bus and route and player interviews.

We piled off the tube at Kings Cross and as we made our way through the maze of tunnels we bumped into a couple who were Hull fans and were a little bit confused as to which direction go in, another couple, who were Gooners and originally on my train down to Tottenham Hale, saw them and directed them onto the tube… to Brixton… it was so funny, they did eventually point them in the right direction, but the banter was flying.

Scarfs tied around wrists, rosettes, I hadn’t seen stuff like that since the 70’s. Has it really been that long since Arsenal won something? I even saw a Gooner with bits of red and white paper tied around his wrists. Brilliant stuff.

12.30pm and we piled off the tube at Wembley Park, it was like a one of those bits of film you see of commuters at rush hour at dead end train stations, you know when all the doors open and everyone spills onto an empty platform… Red. Amber. White. Black. Flashes of colour. Everyone is smiling. As we made our way up the stairs the first chant of the day bounced around the station, “Red Army… Red Army…” sang the Hull fans just to confuse every one… I’m joking… Arsenal had arrived. The chants started to trade the floor like men in striped jackets trade sugar and tin.

As much fun as it was to see and hear it was a little bit weird not to be part of it. As much as I’m a Hull fan for the day, as much as I’m going to cheer them on inside Wembley, I have my limits…

I’m glad that I’d done my homework the day before, I made my way around the stadium, it was still very quiet, the prawn sandwich brigade were already making their way into the stadium, good luck to them, after what I’d witnessed on this cup trail, I understand now just much football relies on them, my attitude to them and why they do what they do has changed and I wished I was going in there with them, if only for one day, just to experience it. But I’d already got something else that I needed to do.

Yesterday, while I was inside the stadium, I asked about the Twin Towers. I was told that some of them ended up as rubble under the pitch, what is left is in a massive pile of rubble near the, A40? while the nipple from the top of one of the Twin Towers is in a park behind the stadium.

It took about 20 minutes to walk to the park via Wembley Way.

As I crossed the bridge spanning the river Brent I saw it, a large cream/white concrete nipple, it was just visible through to leaves and bushes, it was like getting a glimpse of something that you shouldn’t. A nipple.

I walked back to the stadium via the park, smack bang on 1.30pm I heard the Hull City fans singing and chanting and I was still in the park. I promise I could hear them. Crystal clear.

Helicopters cluttered the sky and I thought back to all of those Cup Finals I watched as a kid and how they would follow the team buses on their way to Wembley. How you would put the TV on a 9am and watch FIVE hours of build up before that final hour before KO. I wondered what I was missing. I bet no one got access to the individual hotel rooms. Do you remember how accessible the players were back then? How much fun it was on Cup Final day.

Lots of texts and phone calls and I’m off to meet up with Tony at the Green Man pub. Eventually I find it and Tony, who passed me a wrist band through the fence and I’m in. Before long we were heading down to Tesco for beer and wine before de-camping on that green where I’d seen so many Sheffield United fans the month before, only this time it was empty, there must have been around 100 fans maximum with quite a few Hull City making up the numbers. We raised a glass to the boys in Berlin.

We just stood there chatting about the past season. The next one. Future plans. Ideas. Dreams. HRH drove by. Suddenly it was 4.20pm. We made a very hasty exit from the green and towards Wembley. As we made our way up to stadium Tony turned around and came out with the observation of the day. “They all look like sperm…” It floored me. He was right. As we made our way up the slope all you could see was a sea of brightly dressed sperms heading towards their goal. I said that they were, “chasing their egg”, Tony said that, “that was the wrong sport”. Again he was right.

From now on every time I see an Arsenal fan I shall think of sperm… and vice versa… I might as well throw my porn machine away…

By 4.35pm we were inside. Tony went to get the beers in and I went off to check out the seats. WOW!

Had we missed the build up? No, not really, if we were inside we would have missed outside, if we were outside we would have missed inside. Either way we were never going to win. I think we timed it just right even if it was fluke.

The noise. How do I try to describe it? I’ll get back to you.

We took our seats properly. “Abide With Me”. Tony noticed that there were loads of Arsenal fans around us, a good 20 plus. The teams came out. The presentations of the teams. The national anthem. 

To our left was a block of red and white, to our right and around us was a block of amber and black, while in the Club Wembley seats there was this weird grey colour with bits of Arsenal and Hull speckled here and there.

The noise. It sounded like The Cup Final. It didn’t sound like the Semi Final, or the Quarter Final, or the earlier rounds. The sound was unique. I’ll never hear a sound like that again, not unless I go to another Cup Final. It sounded just it does on the telly. And it was so loud.

Finally, after 275 days, it was time for the kick off.

The ball is rolled backwards and the game starts. The singing and chanting continues and everyone starts to settle down just in time to see Hull win an early corner. Over comes the ball where its met on the edge of the box with a volley. The ball bobbled into the box where it was deflected into the net by Chester. Did he mean it? Does it matter? GOAL!

THREE MINUTES! Three minutes into the Cup Final and Hull were 0-1 up. Our end just erupted. The Gooners in front of us kept their heads down. Tony clapped through gritted teeth. I cheered like a good un... This is exactly what the Cup Final needed. If it had been the other way around it would have been game over, now it was game on.

The Hull end continued to sing and chant. The Arsenal end stayed silent and still and while they were still licking their wound Hull went straight back up their end and did it again. A well worked cross from a badly defended free kick was headed onto the post where the rebound was met by Davies who slammed it into the net. GOAL!

EIGHT MINUTES! Eight minutes into the Cup Final and Hull were 0-2 up. Our end went beyond mental. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Never in any ones wildest dreams was this ever dreamt. Cup Finals aren’t supposed to be like this. Surely this was some kind of weird dream – nightmare if you were Arsenal – maybe their arrogance with open top buses and interviews was about to come back and haunt them. To be honest, it didn’t really matter. Tony tried to clap. The other Gooners tried to hide. Everyone else was going proper potty and I was in there with them. You could see the headlines being written already.

Arsenal and their fans were still in shock when Hull went and did it again. GOAL!

TWELVE MINUTES! Twelve minutes into the Cup Final and Hull were 0-3 up… except they weren’t… Hull won a corner on the same side as the first one, over came the cross where it was met by Bruce, his header looped back across the goal and into the top far corner where it was cleared from off the line and from under the bar by the head of Gibbs.

Arsenal had escaped. Was that going to be the game changer? 0-2 down after eight minutes is one thing but 0-3 down after twelve is another.

Arsenal fans were still silent and stunned while their team tried to draw Hull out. Hull were having none of it. They held their shape and stayed disciplined until they didn’t. Arsenal tried to push forward into the Hull area were Bruce gave a cheap free kick away by winning the ball and the player. It was always going to be a free kick. But honestly, I’ve had relationships with less contact.

Up stepped Cazorla, where from 25 yards outside the box, he put the ball in the only part of the goal where the keeper couldn’t get to it. What a screamer of a free kick. Arsenal were back in the game. All the Gooners around us jumped up. I hoped I’d got it all on film and I’m sure the keeper actually did get a hand on it as he touched it onto the underside of the bar. No matter. GOAL!

SEVENTEEN MINUTES! Seventeen minutes into a Cup Final and its 1-2. I was loving this. Can we have this every year…

Now we really had got a game on our hands. The game continued at a good pace. It wasn’t to pretty but at least it was cagey boring stuff. On the subject of pretty, we spent a good 20 minutes or so discussing why some of the Arsenal players had one red boot and one blue boot. Charity? Sponsor? Just being silly? We decided that it must some kind of sponsorship thing. Still I thought it looked cool and if it was a sponsor thing, then it had worked.

It would have been very easy for Hull to get men behind the ball and park the bus. It would have been very easy for Hull to just hoof it and run. They did neither. They continued to try and play it out of their area. Matty Fryatt was a lone striker so hitting Arsenal on the break was out the question. Just hoofing it up the field and expecting him to hold it and wait for the support was just as daft a thing to do. Playing it out of their half was the only option.

Then on 20 minutes Hull had a lucky escape when Ozil made an air shot. Arsenal broke down the Hull right hand side. A lovely little cross across the six yard line where Ozil miss it completely. Donkey.

I blinked and it was half time.  What happened to the other 25 minutes? People had warned me that it would go quickly but I hadn’t expected it to go that quickly. For Tony this was old and familiar territory and he just seemed to take it all in his stride. Beer and programmes were bought and as quickly as the first half past the second half arrived.

The second half kicked off and continued in the same vain as the last 20 minutes of the first half. Arsenal continued to grow stronger. Hull continued to grow weaker. Hull to their credit refused to panic. They still tried to play football from the back. No route one stuff either. On the floor, pass it and move, it’s just a shame for them that Arsenal were better at it.

Arsenal were moving the ball better and faster, but for all of that, they still didn’t look like they were going to score even though we all knew that eventually they would, it really was a question of when rather than if. The pressure was building. Hull still held their shape, but the tide was turning.

While we waited for Arsenal to score the Hull fans started to get more and more nervous. One or two words were swopped between the Gooners and Hull fans around us. At one point a Hull fan hit one of the Gooners in the row in front of us with his flag from two rows behind us. It if hadn’t been so funny it would have been serious.

Because I’d got back to the seats after half time before Tony it meant that I was now sat next to Emily and her boyfriend and his mate. I asked how they had got tickets for the game. Emily’s boyfriends Dad is a Hull season ticket holder. They were up on Level 5. He pulled some strings and they’d got tickets. The area we were in was supposed to be a neutral zone, FA Guests, etc… But everywhere I looked all I saw was Hull and Arsenal shirts. There were very few people who were not in club colours. So much for all the wingers and moaners saying true fans didn’t get Cup Final tickets. Here was the proof that even though each club only received 25,000 tickets officially there must have been closer to 35,000 each, easily. The colours of the shirts in the seats told the tale.

On 56 minutes the applause started. I took a few seconds for me to realise what was going on, once I’d clicked I nudged Tony and joined in. By the time the 60 seconds was over most people in the crowd were applauding and a lot of us were giving a standing ovation. Some of the Hull fans around us didn’t understand what was going on so we explained.

But of course I don’t have to explain it to you because I’m sure you’re fully aware of what happened on 11^th May 1985 when 56 people died at The Valley Parade because it’s been all over the national media… while also not forgetting 15 year old Ian Hambridge who also died on that day at St Andrews – it was his first ever game. More on this in the epilogue.

Eventually Arsenal got the goal that being coming for so long that most of us had simply got bored with waiting for it to happen and had forgotten it was going to happen. Hull had continued to play it on the floor and had continued to attack Arsenal without panicking. Arsenal had won a corner. Over came the corner, the ball sort of bobbled around in the air like a pin ball machine before the ball fell kindly at the feet of Koscielny who spun, turned and slid the ball past the advancing keeper all in one singular movement before getting whacked by the keeper with a guaranteed leg breaker, luckily for Koscielny he’s kept the receipt and exchanged it for a good old roll around on the pitch and a big kiss from the physio.

So, here we were, 71 minutes, 2-2, Arsenal had the momentum, they were now making all the noise, we had 20 minutes left, Hull still didn’t panic. Would Hull nick it? Would Arsenal steamroll up the pitch and get the winner? The atmosphere in the Hull end changed.

The Hull fans knew what was coming. Arsenal would eventually lift the Cup. It’s never over till it’s over, but it was going to take something very special for Hull to hold on and re take the lead before 90 minutes.

The other thing was that because the KO was 5pm the last train out of London back to Hull was 21.35 – well it was the last one that I found anyway – the point being that Hull fans really could do without this going to Extra Time and/or penalties.

Now I know what you’re thinking, Full Time ends at 18.45 – ish, Extra Time ends at 19.15 – ish, Penalties ends at 19.45 – ish, but it takes at least ONE HOUR to get out of Wembley and that’s on a good day. So, Hull fans were now having to think about what time do they leave to get their train home, because even though there is a train at 21.35, not every Hull fan can get on it, some will be on the earlier trains. Hull fans were facing to prospect of having to leave before the final is over. I hope Mr. Dyke and the pen pushing money men at the FA are proud of themselves. As long as the TV viewing public can get to their fridge and back before the adverts end and the football re-starts – OH THE IRONY!!! They don’t even watch the adverts that you’re sold your soul to…

Did you watch the game on TV? Can you remember any of the adverts? Please feel free to write to Mr. Greg Dyke c/o The FA @ Wembley Stadium.

All of this last train nonsense was effecting the atmosphere and vibe in the Hull was changing to a negative.

At one point, while an Arsenal player was making a meal out of being injured, Emily said that she wanted to “piss on his face”, me and Tony did the classic Sooty double take and said “WHAT!?” “You want to piss on his face?” To which Emily, realising what she’d said and that it had come out of her mouth in the wrong way, started to back track, “NO! I didn’t mean it like that”, she protested, but we were too busy laughing and taking the piss – no pun intended… The more Emily tried to dig herself out of the hole she’d just jumped into the more we laughed and the worse it got for Emily.

Sorry Tony, your sperm observation has just been Top Trumped!

And then it happened, on 78 minutes Arsenal nearly put everyone out of their misery. Gibbs found himself on the six yards line with the ball, it had been worked into the box from the far side, before being rolled across the six yard line, he took his time, he bought the ball under control, he stopped, he looked, he picked his spot, BLOCK 134 ROW 15 SEAT 025

How in God’s name did he miss that? Emily should go and hang out with Gibbs because here was someone who was more than happy to take the piss.

I remember looking up at the score board and seeing it read 84 minutes, it had all gone so quickly.

From the first whistle Hull hadn’t read the script. Hull were still not reading the script. They simply would not lie down and die. There were chances, mostly to Arsenal, but both teams were happy to go into Extra time.

On 85 minutes the crowd was given as 89,345 while a minute or two later the board went up, +5 minutes of injury time.

The Final Whistle blew. Everyone took a deep breath. Arsenal 2 Hull City 2. We rushed off to get food and drink… only to find everything closed. WHAT!?

Extra Time First Half. The atmosphere, by now, had completely changed, it was flat.

The best chance of the half went to Arsenal, Ramsey delivered probably the best cross of the day where it was met by Giroud who just hung in the air like an Olympic High Jumper before heading the ball against the bar, the keeper was beat all hands down and everyone inside Wembley watched as the ball THAWKED against the bar, before being cleared.

The rest of the half was pretty much a nothing of a nothingness.

Extra Time Second Half. The noise. I think I know how to explain the noise, it not the singing or chanting, yes there was singing and chanting but that’s not the noise that you here, it’s just like standing on a beach in a storm listening to the sea crashing against the rocks. It’s a deep roar that gets closer to you before kind of swallowing you, surrounding you, it kind of whispers in your hear but loudly, it’s just like white noise in surround sound.

I’ll shut up shall?

The best chance of the half went to Arsenal, who scored on 109 minutes, a beautiful worked goal in and around the edge of the box saw Arsenal and Hull players interact act with themselves and the ball like The Red Arrows showing off to a group of girls… Truly stunning… Did I just see what I thought I saw? Did Arron Ramsey meet a back heel, on the half volley, with the outside of his right foot, bottom right hand corner? I bet you couldn’t have got a wafer thin mint between the ball and the post. STUNNING! If Messi scored a goal like that you’d have to study it at school. I tell you what, if you see a better goal than that at next weekend’s European Corporate Whore Final then I’ll wave my man sausage at next doors devil dog…

Suddenly the Arsenal fans found their voice. What a way to win The Cup. Game over… or so we thought.

A few minutes later Sanogo latched on to a very poor back pass, it should have been 4-2 but he fluffed his chance – just for a change.

By now the sun was setting and Wembley had a lovely bright gold colour bathing our end. Was it a sign?

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any more bizarre, Hull decided to just hump the ball out of their box, it bounced just passed the half way line where one of the Arsenal defenders missed the ball completely, he tried to chest it down, but he was too busy thinking about lifting The Cup, the ball bounced on, Aluko was onto it like a flash, but not as fast as the Arsenal keeper who’d anticipated what was going to happen and had rush off his line, the only problem is that if you rushed off that quickly in real life your missus would dump you and you’d have to go and see your doctor… he was miles outside the box when he arrived - he really should see his doctor - Aluko beat him to the ball, Aluko went for goal, it was that classic moment of, any advancing Hull player couldn’t get to the ball, any back tracking Arsenal player might just bundle it into their own net, the ball might just go in all by itself, but Aluko had hit it with his left foot, it was always going to swing away from the goal, it was always going to be meet an Arsenal player, it bounced past the first only to be met by Gibbs – AGAIN! – who on two yards out swung his foot at the ball and I’m convinced he touched it. IDIOT! It could have gone anywhere.

As it was, it was as close as Hull were going to get to taking the game into penalties or scoring a third goal, which to be honest, was entirely possible since they hadn’t bothered to read the script.

Hull found another level of energy. Both teams had more chances with both keepers pulling off individual saves that made the entrance fee worth it alone.

It just simply was not to be, Hull cleared the ball off the line one final time before the ref blew for full time. Arsenal 3 Hull City 2 AET.

The Sun got lower in the sky, the golden (shower – sorry Emily I couldn’t resist…) haze that bathed our end grew deeper. Arsenal fans and players celebrated in a relief kind of way, it wasn’t a “We’ve won The Cup” way it was a “Relief”, the weight had been lifted. Hull fans were, well, it’s hard to pin point how they reacted, they’ve just lost in The Cup Final, but they’ve got to The Cup Final, their FIRST Cup Final and they can say that they were there, on top of that they are now in Europe next season.

It was Arsenal’s 18^th FA Cup Final.

It was Hull City’s 1^st FA Cup Final.

It is a new FA Cup.

I saw the first goal in this year’s FA Cup, Lee Roberts 46 seconds Hoddesdon v ST MARGARETSBURY.

I saw the last goal in this year’s FA Cup, Arron Ramsey  109 minutes ARSENAL v Hull City.

Arsenal win the FA Cup for a record 11^th time.

Some of the Hull fans started to leave, they had trains to catch, it was a shame that they couldn’t stay to see The Cup get lifted. I wonder how many left before Hull went up to get their medals?

Eventually the teams did go up the steps to collect their medals and finally lift the cup. The Hull ended was empting at an alarming rate while it seemed that more fans got into the Arsenal end.

Tony, said his goodbyes and went off to spend the evening with his kids. I failed spectacularly to meet up with Keith. I never did find out where Leon was. As for Darren and Karl, they were here somewhere…. somewhere…

I stayed inside the stadium to the bitter end. Just wanting to find “an end”. I slowly and surely made my way home. By the time I got outside the sun had set and it was getting dark. The arch looked great in the clear dark sky.

I had a small moment to myself. Still it will look good on CCTV somewhere.

I got home. I put the kettle on. I put the TV on. I put my porn machine on. I downloaded my photos. I poured a massive glass of whiskey and coke and promptly fell asleep before I drank it.

Chapter Four

The Day After The Night Before

I woke up very early on Sunday morning to a wonderful bright blue sky and a thumping hang over.

I plodded around the flat before making my way down to Arsenal to see the parade. To be honest, there is nothing really to tell. Maybe that’s the story?

The sky was bright blue. It was lovely and hot. There were three helicopters in the sky.

There was very little atmosphere. No sing or chanting. In the defence of the missing and silent Gooners, when Walsall won the Play Off Final in Extra Time against Reading 2-3, we were spent, we got back to Walsall and my mate Billy said he thought it would be mental, but it was dead.

I made my way to the club shop at Finsbury Park tube station, nothing happening.

I walked around to Highbury and took a few pictures of the old East Stand, which are now apartments.

It was just like that scene from Fever Pitch, I just wanted someone to lean out of one of the windows and shout, “Will you please, please, please, please, please, just fucking fuck off… “

 I’ve provided the Walsall connection, it’s now up to them…

The traders were out in the streets and were making a killing. Every corner had a different T-Shirt or scarf, or flag… Off to The Emirates. The players had already gone off to Islington Town Hall.

I made my way around to Hornsey Road where I bumped into an Arsenal steward who told me about the plans for the rest of the day.

“Do you see that plinth” he said pointing at it. “Yes” I replied, “Well they are going to re-lift The Cup from there in about 90 minutes time”, he continued while checking his watch. I didn’t know about that. I thanked him I went and got something to drink and found a spot and waited… and waited…

The large video screens were showing high lights from the game while cutting back and forth from the TV studio. Fans started to climb on roof tops. Someone stood in the window in just their pants. Girls took as many clothes off as they could get away with and sun bathed.

Suddenly as if by magic the bus appeared at the top of the steps followed by the second one. Two? Um…

Slowly and surely the players were introduced one by one with Wenger going up last.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… BOOM! Confetti canons fired massive plumes of red and white confetti everywhere. BOOM! Another. BOOM! Another. Hysteria. Pure and simple hysteria. The place went crazy.

For a good 20 to 30 minutes it was unbearably noisy and I was loving every minute of it.

The FA Cup gleamed in the direct sunlight. Seeing her so close. So new. So clean. So fresh.

Again I had another moment to myself. I’d travelled all of those miles from Hoddesdon to Arsenal… HA! HA! HA! I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I had one of those really weird flash back scenes you get in films. I thought about the people, old friends and new friends, the places, the saves, goals and misses, the grounds, the travelling and all of those miles, and my daughter. My lovely daughter, I know she would have loved all of this, it’s just a shame it got cluttered up with football. If at any of those two points she had said no to St Margaretsbury v Hoddesdon or Sutton United v Hemel Hempstead, I would have simply walked away from it all, but she saw the bigger picture, 12 years old and smarter than dumb ass Dad. One day I’ll make her as proud of me as I am of her. One day…

And then it was over.

I walked back towards Arsenal tube station. The police opened up the roads. Arsenal fans went off to the pubs and bars and continued to have fun singing and dancing in the streets, really just like that scene from fever pitch.

I’d love to be a fan of a team that won the FA Cup.

If you’ve read this far.

Thank you.

Just a little bit of housekeeping before I go.

There will be an Epilogue, I hope to have it done within 48 hours.

Finally, before I go, while travelling around I re wrote the lyrics to Motorhead’s “We Are The Road Crew”.

Here is the original with the lyrics http://youtu.be/d0OUSuDONjo


Motorhead We Are The Road Crew instrumental  http://youtu.be/BmhhVgCD0hg

We Are The Road Crew (Doing The Cup Trail)

The Extra Pre Lim’ Round is drawn
It was Saturday I could have sworn
Moved to Friday, the dream is born     
The cricket takes priority
Moved for them and good for me            
What no Bovril? Then I’ll have tea
Another replay I can’t make
Another smile that I can’t fake
Just how much more can I take?
I saw the first goal – in this year’s FA Cup

Elvis The Mouse his hips did grind
I swear that Ref he must be blind
Another post card I can’t find
The balls are pink and that’s not right
Another giant killed tonight
The miles are banked, I Fly-By-Night
I’m driving like a maniac
I’ve been up to Hull and back
I predict a heart attack
Biscuits for breakfast – Pot Noddle on the side

BT Sport, they came and went
Money wasted, not well spent
On my blog I had to vent
Inside another empty ground
Without a voice or single sound
Fun and games on the Underground
Those 18 games, they came and went
The miles I travelled, irrelevant
Just how much money have I spent?
I saw the last goal – in this year’s FA Cup

Noggin xx