Hang on a minute. It wasn’t just fun: it was fantastic. Utterly fantastic… If you think I’ve lost my senses, and should be weeping into my replica shirt, you clearly have no concept what it’s like to be a Cardiff City fan. Cardiff just don’t play at Wembley or reach FA Cup finals. Actually, they do, every 81 years or so. Which was good news for my son and me today, and will be again for my great-grandchildren, circa 2089. Ever since we won the semi-final, people have been asking me whether I would cry if we lost on the big day.
Don’t be daft. I’m a Cardiff fan. I’m used to losing. And so today’s defeat was just another day at the office, albeit a bigger and posher one. Strangely, nobody thought to ask if I would cry if we won. Perhaps it’s because nobody believed we actually would. But if you must shed a tear or two in public, there would have been no better place than on a Saturday afternoon after an unrepeatable adventure at – and apologies here to Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium – the finest sport venue in the land.
