Burn's goal made me cry. I was already thinking "We've started well, this feels different!" but we all know how that normally ends for us so I was far from confident. When he scored, it was just the sheer moment. Finally scoring a goal in a final at Wembley, and a meaningful one at that. It's all I'd said to my work colleagues on Friday, that I just wanted us to have a meaningful moment like that, no matter the result. To score and for it to matter, not to claw one back to make it 1-4 or something, a goal of importance that I could celebrate and enjoy.
And he'd given me what I wanted, I knew at that point that no matter what followed, I'd had my moment. I hadn't dared dream about actually winning, so I felt whole just with that, if we went on to lose then so be it, we'd still scored and led in a cup final, that could never be taken away from me. When the half time whistle came moments later I sat and blubbed for a couple of minutes, this was my team and we were leading at half time in a cup final. I had at least 15 minutes to savour it, and I did.
Second half, when the disallowed effort went in, like everyone I went bananas, followed by the sense of disappointment and a feeling of "here we go again, well we all know how THIS script always ends". We've all seen it watching Newcastle, defeat snatched from the jaws of victory with monotonous predictability. I resigned myself to it happening again. Then within moments, Isak whacked the next one in and it was sheer jubilation. I knew, KNEW that one couldn't be taken away, there was no reason and it would stand, we were 2-0 up and had a second hand on the trophy. I started to believe.
My boss (Norwich fan and a great bloke) then messaged almost straight away suggesting it was on, but the doubts started flooding back and I pushed them down, my reply being oddly prophetic....
I remembered the time I'd quoted him and by 92m45s I was typing a reply saying "OK, maybe I'll have to admit it's on!" ready to send as 93 ticked over, but then Liverpool attacked and I paused my typing. Then just after 93 ticked over they scored and I deleted my message, replacing it with just "Told you we needed to get to 93..."
Honestly though, I was just annoyed they scored. Yes the "what if" enters your head, but I know how good we are at seeing games out now and they'd offered almost nothing so far so I thought we were still OK. I did however turn the TV volume right down (Something I always do in these cases) because if they'd scored and I had to listen to the commentator and their fans go apeshit for an equaliser I'd have been destroyed.
I didn't cheer at the whistle. I just collapsed. Tears came again. Hugged my daughter, who at 3 had no idea what was going on (She had Frozen on an old phone of mine) other than daddy was shouting too loud a few times and upsetting her, which I felt really bad about but there was no corking or moderating those emotions I'll just take my 'bad parent' points on the chin as collateral damage, much like Tonali's booking.
I'd only had 4 beers during the game, needing to be at least coherent whilst solely in charge of a toddler but when my wife got in at 8, and with my daughter already asleep the wine was opened. The wife's not much of a drinker but she had half a bottle, I had the other 1.5 and then all replays and footage exhausted on the internet I fell into bed at about 2am. What a day.
When I started typing that wasn't at all intended to be so in-depth but there we are. I'm sure I'll re-read this thread in years to come, as I have others on here that have covered important times, and as the human brain is so fallible then hopefully if I stumble upon this post of mine in 30 years time it'll serve as a testament to correct any misconceptions time will give me about how I felt and reacted back on that fateful March day which ended the longest drought in football.
