- Jun 5, 2004
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- 64,290
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- #1
So this milkman chap sends me a PM. And, no, before you ask, it's not the one who keeps sending me messages claiming to be my "real" dad, that's the other milkman. In this PM is a request/offer: he's going to make a spangly Cup Final thread, and is looking for contributions from some of the best writers on the site. And since none of them responded, he's plumped for me.
So what I am going to talk about? How am I going to get you in the mood for a Cup Final? I doubt it's something that's actually in my control – because you should be bloody excited: IT'S A CUP FINAL WITH SPURS IN IT INNIT!
You see, I'm really bloody excited. Really. Not in a sarcastic excited way, but in a ridiculously happy kind of way. For those that don't know, I missed out on Cup Final tickets last year by a measly 8 loyalty points while those two blaggards who spent the season sitting next to me trundled off down Wembley Way, turning their heads away from a beleaguered Stoof. (And who would blame them).
This year, though, is different because I vowed to not let it happen again. And so, through some serious commitment, The Trio are going to Wembley as a trio. Awesome.
Now last year, I thought we were going to lose. I had that slight flicker of hope that we could do something – but it was only a flicker.
Here's how last year unfolded for me:
*** (you love those stars - they've been re-signed from Liverpool for a fee less than what was paid)
I strolled down the wonderful Beattyville Gardens, as I have a habit of doing, decked out in full Spurs clobber. I had the I Love Martin Jol t-shirt underneath the 125 anniversary shirt - my favourite combination. I had some Spurs footy socks on too, and the 125 game flag stuff down the back of my shirts. The wind direction was favourable and the flag billowed out behind me, flapping from its Stoof flag pole home.
As I sat in a Gants Hill front room with 7 of my Spurs pals, I remember the ball breaking to Keano, and him lashing it towards goal. I was up. I thought it was in but alas no; it wasn't the Di Matteo start I'd prayed for. As the game drew on, Chimbonda hit the bar with the leaping header, and we seemed to be on top. And I thought it might prove fatal that we didn't score during this time. Chelsea clawed back into the game, Drogba drawing a couple of fouls out of Zokora, the last one of those ending in what could have been the start of a rout. Drogba deftly curled the ball, against its will, past Robinson and the Chelsea fans piped up for the first time in the game.
But all was not lost, we had time to recover it. Didn't we? The clock seemed to speed up as it always seems to when we're behind, and before we could really do anything more, the half was over and the task was growing larger.
My memories are hazy of the start of the second half, and without watching highlights (which I don't want to do just yet) I can't really remember anything until the penalty. Never have I been more happy to see a linesman do the "FlagAcrossHisChestShovingMotionWithTheOtherHand" action than I was that day. Still now I yell "penalty" at the Lane and then follow it up with that motion: to will the lino to do the same!
Some Bulgarian chap took quite a good penalty (name not mentioned for anger reasons) and Zokora did his "I'm Not Watching" gif classic that currently resides in my signature. Maybe even with the smurf hat: again, my memories are hazy of that one. :wink:
Then Didier ran clear. A ball over the top from Keane. All my indifference towards him fell away, the clock slowed, time froze generally, he was one on one. Oh, a little bobble, oh, it's ok he's still got it. He's in, he's got to score. Good hit! Saved! Nightmare! He's got the rebound, keeper's on the floor, surely now's your time Didier. Look! There's a Bulgarian to your right! Give it to him! NOOOOOOOOOO!
He missed it. And my indifference returned. What I then saw was one team wanting to win it, and that was us. But normal time would not produce a winner ...
As extra time began, I remember Lennon fouled by Anelka and then watched Jenas give life to a dead ball. I saw a Cockerel crow. *Stupid next door chickens*. And then after that, I saw Woodgate stick two-fingers up at gravity and hang whilst he faced the ball past Cech and agonisingly slowly into the net. I remember jumping for joy, I remember his silly run that had players flying everywhere but mostly I remember that flicker becoming a flame and eventually a roaring fire of hope.
The rest of the game was a blur of excitement. Robinson was called into action and produced some great saves. The end was all a bit chaotic, Kalou hit the post and Chelsea seemed to think they deserved something for that. They didn't. As I emerged from the Jumping Spurs Man Hug that had become my mate's front room I saw Robbo crying with joy. We then watched as a tearful Keane ran on to the pitch, pushed his way past everyone and found Some Bulgarian and gave him a hug that summed up why we loved Spurs. The Cup was ours; the odds defied.
***
That roaring fire I spoke of wasn't seen again all season, nor again under Ramos. But Harry's got his kindling ready and I just can't wait for it all to happen again. I don't think we'll win, but I do have this flicker of hope …