Although I may have none of the writing skill of the author of Fever Pitch – the archetypal fan’s eye-view book – I can claim half Hornby’s name, and all his hairstyle, so let’s have a stab. There is a problem, though, with trying to compare the Cardiff fan’s experience to that of Hornby’s club, Arsenal. City may have beaten the Gunners in 1927 to claim our first FA Cup, but since then the clubs have not so much trodden separate paths as occupied different universes. Arsenal are genuine giants of the game, the aristocrats of English football who have never been out of the top division, with trophies galore and a string of world-class players.
For a few brief years in the 1920s, Cardiff and Huddersfield – yes, Cardiff and Huddersfield – were the equivalent of Manchester United and Chelsea. It didn’t last, and Cardiff’s history since then has been the occasional high – a Welsh Cup here, a victory over more illustrious opposition there – interspersed with many lows. We also like to claim that we are the aristocrats of Welsh football, although Swansea, our not-always-loved neighbours, will have plenty to say about that when they join us in the Championship next season. The truth, though it hurts to admit it, is that we are nowhere near a big club. The fact is that while we have potential, we have rarely fulfilled it.
