SOBS ON WEMBLEY

"This sort of thing doesn't happen to us," said our Ian. It does now. Scoring in the last second of extra time to get to Wembley. Coming from behind to win at Wembley in the fifth minute of added time after losing O'Nien after 90 seconds. Scored by a player in his final game. The sort of script that was rejected by Sean Bean for being too far-fetched before he made When Saturday Comes. You beauties!

Here we go...

Early start, coach heater stuck on full, rotten traffic near Luton, Wetherspoon's too hot to tolerate, so I went in the ground early and paid through the nose for my beer - which surprised the barstaff. Catch-up with a few acquaintances to discuss tactics and the line-up of:

Patterson 

Hume O'Nien Ballard Cirkin 

Neil(c) Bellingham 

Rigg Le Fee Mundle 

Mayenda

... and a bench of Moore, Watson, Hjelde, Roberts, Isidor, Samed, Browne, Mepham, and Jones.

Sheffield kicked off towards our end, and we were on the back foot immediately. A Sheffield cross was headed down and clawed away from the foot of his left hand post, but Luke had landed awkwardly and after five minutes getting his shoulder clagged back together he trudged disconsolately off. Thankfully we had Mepham.

Look, you've seen it, you've read about it, you've re-watched the goals, so I'll keep it brief.  There was a respectful round of applause on 22 in memory of a young Blade, Mayenda took a proper dunsh that neither the ref nor VAR thought anything of, then midway through the half they broke down the inside left channel and dinked it over Patto. Boo.

Ten minutes later a screamer from a cleared corner silenced us briefly, then... what's going on? A medical incident? Someone having a sneaky tab in the seats? No, it was our first encounter with VAR, and it was a good encounter, with Mr Ref making the telly shape and the announcer telling us that somebody had been in Patto's line of sight. Wahey!

That brought our Lads to life and our fans into full voice. There were eight added minutes that we managed well, then a sit down and to reflect over a bag of jelly babies.

No changes, as ever, in personnel but in attitude - well, it was different. Positive, quick, we won corners and although we didn't really trouble their keeper, it got the fans thinking we could do something. Ten minutes in, Rigg was replaced by Roberts, who ran and ran down the right. We played a few nearly balls, Paddy was dunshed much the way Mayenda had been in the first half, but no free-kick. Then off went Mundle, who'd been a threat down the left, and Neil, who the Blades midfield had been all over, on 73. A significant number, 73, and on came Isidor and Watson. Two up top, two wingers, and three minutes later Paddy clipped a clever ball to Mayenda and he showed all his strength to withstand the attentions of his opponent to bang it into the roof of the net.

Boom! Belief flooded our veins even more as we bounced around the stands and roared our defiance. Fifteen or so to go. It's in our hands. Some desperate defending by us, some close stuff at the other end, more corners, then seven added minutes were announced. Not penalties, please. Girrup Big Dan, thump one of those corners in, you know you want to.

Five minutes into the seven, Watson picked up the ball and curled a daisy-cutter in a beautiful, accurate arc way outside the keeper's left hand post and back just inside that post. Oh my. Wow. These things DO happen to us.

More defending, more injuries, Sheffield subbed a sub, every Sunderland throw or tackle - HYOOOOOM! - and every misplaced Sheffield pass was greeted with a roar heard in Cardiff, then the whistle went, and we went mad. Proper mad-mental mad. The big screens showed Quinny in tears, SuperKev sat with Reidy, players rolling around on the turf in exhausted elation.

What seemed like an hour of celebration followed, on went Mayenda's shades, and up went the pyrotechnics and glittery tickertape. We joined in with the music, Wise Men Say, Sweet Caroline (naff, but acceptable under the circumstances), Sunlun 'til We Die, everything. 

Magic, just magic. 

Man of the Match? You know what? I don't care. Every one of them. Le Bris for inspired and effective substitutions. The fans for the noise. VAR. Everything.

See you in the Premier League!