City have the final say.

 

Can we shut up about little old Lincoln now? I don’t suppose people will. A lot has been said about Sky, and every one else it seems having a condescending attitude towards the Imps although, to be honest in the end I thought Sky did actually capture the fairy tale nature of City’s recent success.

Commentators, like anyone will have their prejudices and Sunderland are a big club. I remember way back when Wimbledon won the FA Cup, Gary Lineker said it was a bad day for football as Wimbledon play the “wrong” way. What he was referring to was the style of play but the inference was you shouldn’t be winning trophies, leave it to the big boys.

Anyway, City haven’t won anything yet but it didn’t seem to matter yesterday as the Imps, in a remarkable turnround escaped the lethargy, is that what it was? Of the first half to reveal their true colours and snatch the tie from the Black Cats. Never has defeat tasted so delicious.

Ridiculously, I dressed exactly as I did on Wednesday, minus the rain jacket and mask. I don’t know why I thought that was going to make a difference and for 45 agonising minutes it didn’t as City looked a shadow of the team that had held Sunderland in an iron grip in the week. As the half crept to an end I did just wonder, if the Imps could just keep it to two nil Michael Appleton might be able to do something, anything, to rescue a situation that was looking increasingly hopeless.

This morning, as May finally realises it’s a spring month, I still can’t quite believe what I saw as Michael made the changes I think even tactical dunces like me saw were necessary and City tore into Sunderland as if their lives depended on it.

Well they do say football is a matter of life and death to mangle a saying made long ago and City said to the grim reaper, hold on a second, we’re not finished, oh no.

Even then it was a close-run thing, we don’t do things the easy way, as Jorge Grant admitted after the game. Tom Hopper scored, his limp goal celebration causing a chuckle but not to the Mackems, given that it is a carbon copy of the one employed by the great Alan Shearer, of Newcastle United, here on Wearside. How we laughed, well I did.

It was far from over. A missed penalty. Oh Jorge, you do pick your moments, two relatively easy chances spurned. Grrr. Then injury time, then some more injury time. Put us out of our misery please!

And relax. My hands were shaking trying to join the many tweeting their thoughts. City were back at Wembley. You wait 100 plus years to get there and two appearances come along at once. Will I get a ticket? It doesn’t really matter. Will we win? It doesn’t really matter.

What am I saying? It does matter. In the words of someone whose name escapes me, Retreat? Hell, we only just got here.