Monday, 12 May 2008

Finest Memory....

A turning feeling in my stomach, mouths gone dry. I don’t know what to expect. Even a single tear strolling down my face like an isolated river.
Is it as good as it looks? Is it as good as everyone says?
Standing proud, banging my hands together like big drums, not singing, I was screaming with every ounce of effort.
Seeing blue and white everyway, it was clear where I was.
This was the Premiership.
We have finally made it. First game at home, Middleborough. A stern test to see where we could come.
Will Reading stay up? How would we fend?
Then a shock. Stuart Downing bang. 1-0, a bullet through the heart. Welcome to the Premiership.
The crowd was still there, cheering, shouting at every opportunity, the fans have been waiting 137 years for this. We were not going to give up without a fight.
It got worst.
A fumble by fans favourite Marcus Hahnenmann, 2-0 Yakubu. We realize how good this league is.
What are we going to do? What will Steve Coppell do? Should we have brought more players in the summer?
Then out of nothing, a lifeline.
Dave Kitson scrambled the ball home from close range. Madejski Stadium lifted. It was floating; we were in a world of our own. First goal ever in the top division.
Chants of ‘David Kitson what a bargain’ ringing around the stadium for the next 2 minutes. We were in this.
Singing, encouraging, cheering, booing, every emotion trembling through my body.
My legs shaking, standing proud, waiting, hoping, dreaming.
A ball came in from the left wing to 14 yards. Steve Sidwell came running in. Everyone holding their breath.
2 – 2, what a came back. Could we handle the Premiership? Of course we f**king can!
I don’t think I will be able to last another 37 and a half games.
This is incredible. What a feeling, nothing that I ever experience again. Reading are in the big time for the ever time, and we are not here to make up numbers.
Half time, I can rest. I stand up looking around the stadium, no one had moved. Everyone was waiting for the second half. We were ready, singing carrying on through the break. The announcer was not even recognized. It was a party atmosphere.
Second half begins; the crowd was still in it. Singing, hoping, dreaming.
Leroy Lita looked it fine form, running the channels. A certain determination on his face. I exchanged glances with as he ran of the pitch trying to save to ball. He wanted to win, he wanted to win.
Then he pops up to seal Reading’s fight back, 3-2. Leroy Lita has blasted a shot high into the net. The Mad Stad went ballistic. Cheering, screaming, that tear had return, a tear of joy, a tear of resentment for not feeling this before. A tear to show how much we appreciated this. This is the Premiership.

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