The day we won the cup!!

SINCE the semi final victory over Wigan, Emerson had spoke of nothing but the FA Cup final. Still in nappies the last time Arsenal had won a trophy, Emerson had waited virtually all his life for the chance to see his beloved team win some silverware. I was hoping he wouldn't be disappointed.

I may have seen it all before but the opportunity to experience it again with my son made this one all the more special. And it was only Hull. Surely we would beat Hull.

Initially I had been concerned that a comfortable 3-0 victory, like the one we had achieved at their place in the league a few weeks earlier, would take something away from the experience. A lack of drama, perhaps. But as the day approached I really didn't care if we won 6-0 just as long as we won!

I had decided to drive to Peterborough and get the train to Kings Cross from there. It was cheaper that way. The train from Darlington to London would have cost a little under £170 return. From Peterborough it was just £43. Even taking into account parking (£6 all day) and diesel (£45 return) it still worked out much better value.

So we set off from Barton just before midday and arrived at Peterborough Station at 14.15, nearly 20 minutes before our 14.33 train was due to leave. We had spent the journey discussing who we thought would be the match winner. I fancied it would be someone unexpected; Koscielny or maybe Sanogo, but Emerson went with Podolski or Jack Wilshere.



Emerson at Peterborough Station

As it turned out the train was running late and was not now due to arrive until 14.42. No drama, I thought, we'd still be in London by 15.30; plenty of time to get to Wembley ahead of the 17.00 kick off.

The Metropolitan Line train from Kings Cross to Wembley Park was full of Gooners and the half an hour journey was spent singing a selection of old school songs; Perry Groves World, B'Jesus Said Paddy and Old Wembley Way, to name a few. Emerson loved it, even though he didn't know most of the words.

"Who is Perry Groves?" he asked.

"Oh, he is an Arsenal legend!" was my reply.

"Like Dennis Bergkamp and Theirry Henry?"

"Eh, yeah, sort of!"

Of course one of the highlights of FA Cup final day is the walk down Wembley Way. I had experienced it three times before (once for a replay in 1993) but this was Emerson's first so I made sure he savoured every moment.

The atmosphere was building up nicely now and it seemed most Gooners were feeling confident. Emerson had predicted a 2-1 win while I had rather more optimistically gone for 4-1; a Sanogo hat-trick!

Emerson on Wembley Way

aWe were in Block P which was half way around the stadium, opposite the tunnel, and by the time we had made our way around and joined the queue, it was nearly 16.30, half an hour until kick off. Emerson really wanted to be in the ground to sing Abide With Me so I hoped we would not be queuing for too long.

But it soon became clear that there was a problem. The next block along to our right, which was for Hull fans, had a similar length of queue to ours, but it had soon gone down while we were still no nearer to the turnstiles. The mood began to turn very tense as we inched slowly, tantalisingly, step-by-step closer to the promised land.

It soon became clear that we would now miss Abide With Me and our chances of making the kick off were looking no better than 50/50. As we slowly neared the turnstiles we were informed that there was a problem with the barcode machine which was causing the delay. It later transpired that it was a problem with forged tickets, not an issue in any other block except ours! Strange as ours was a block reserved for tickets supplied by the local FAs...

By the time we finally got through the turnstiles it was 16.55, and after running up the escalators, popping in for a quick toilet stop, and then climbing the 35 rows to our seats (luckily on the end of the row), we finally settled down just as referee Lee Probert blew the first whistle.

Emerson was surprised to see a flag on his seat and asked the guy next to him if it was his.

"No," he replied. "We have all got one."

Emerson 'enjoying' his complimentary flag

Emerson was overjoyed but before he could unfurl it, Hull had scored. Less than three minutes had been played. There was a feeling of shock all around us. Not the start we had wanted. But Emerson wasn't worried.

"I said they'd score first and we'd win 2-1," he said. "So it's okay."

When Hull then scored again five minutes later, he was not so confident. I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he began to contemplate the thought that we might actually lose. My thoughts immediately turned to the people who all week had been saying how much they wanted Arsenal to get beaten. The thought of the smug smiles on their faces was awful but I had to stay positive for Emerson.

It was very nearly all over before fifteen minutes had elapsed when Gibbo was forced to head off the line and we all hoped that would be a turning point. Thankfully it was. We were soon awarded a free kick about 25 yards from goal and Emerson took this opportunity to finally unravel his flag.

He waved it for the first time just as Santi Cazorla was running up to take the free kick and we both could not quite believe it when the ball flew into the top corner of the net. A truly great goal. Cue delirium all around us.

The view from our seats

Emerson was convinced it was his flag that had brought us the goal so every time we attacked after that he waved it furiously in the hope it would lead to an equaliser. It nearly did when Podolski's cross was missed by Ozil, but at half time we were still behind.

I was confident we would play better in the second half and go on to win but we needed to score early. We didn't. Then on the hour Wenger made his first change; swapping Podolski for Sanogo. Still time for that hat-trick, I thought.

The guy next to me was having none of it though and spent the next ten minutes shouting angrily just what he thought of the French ex-postman. When Sanogo tried to cut inside for the 10th time and lost the ball again, my neighbour was livid.

"Podolski would have scored that!" he shouted.

This was to become his mantra over the next half an hour or so, completely ignoring the fact that Podolski had not scored, or even threatened to do so, in the hour he had been on the pitch.

The problem was that despite what my neighbour thought, Sanogo was actually making a difference. Having two up front suddenly made us look more of a threat and the equaliser duly arrived with 20 minutes left.

It didn't look like a corner as Sanogo appeared to flick Giroud's cross into the side netting, and he didn't even appeal which is usually a sign that the player knows. But having had two blatant penalties turned down in the previous ten minutes, we were not about to complain about something finally going our way.

And as so often happens when a corner is wrongly awarded, it resulted in a goal. This one may have been scrappy as the ball fell to Koscielny inside the six yard box for him sweep home, but we did not care one bit.

We literally went mental. It was an outpouring of relief as much as anything else but it was one of the best goal celebrations I can remember, even better that I could share it with my son. But only after he had stopped jumping about screaming YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! for what seemed like about 10 minutes.

Emerson celebrating the equaliser

Our defender had been injured in scoring the goal and after the celebrations had died down, Emerson turned to me looking slightly concerned.

"It is horrible that he couldn't celebrate scoring as he was injured."

Typical of Emerson to think such a thing.

"Look, he is okay now," I said to reassure him. "He can celebrate at the end when we score the winner!"

And just a few minutes later we should have done just that. Sanogo did well again to find Gibbo, unmarked eight yards out. We were half-celebrating already but the chance had fallen to the wrong man. For once I was in agreement with my neighbour; Podolski would almost certainly have scored that. But over the top it went and the tension became unbearable.

Emerson was literally shaking by now, unable to sit still, a feeling made worse every time Hull crossed the half way line. Thankfully this did not happen very often.

With our return train booked for 8 o'clock, extra time would mean we would miss it but that was the last thing on our mind as Probert blew for full time. We had another half hour of this to go through yet.

Hull looked tired now and we began to take advantage. But when Giroud headed against the crossbar in the first extra period, and then Ramsey shot into the side-netting, I began to think it may not be our day after all.

But just as we had started to think about the prospect of penalties, we finally got ourselves in front. The introduction of Jack and Tomas Rosicky at half time in extra time gave us some extra impetus and with 10 minutes left, it finally happened.

A lovely back heel from Giroud found the late-arriving Aaron Ramsey and his first-time shot with the outside of his right foot crept into the corner of the net. We had our hero and what a fitting hero it was. Our player of the season had come up with the goods again just when we needed him most.

It actually took a few seconds for me to realise that we had scored. I had seen the ball go into the net alright, and I had seen the fans behind the goal to our left going mental, but for some reason I was unable to take it in. I looked to my right and Emerson was there going completely crazy and then it hit me. We had done it! Nine years of hurt was finally over!! Take that you haters!!

So slightly behind everyone else, I was now going bonkers, hugging and high-fiving everyone around me. For a second I lost Emerson as he was immersed under a pile of happy bodies, but he was loving every second of it. When he finally resurfaced we could have our own private celebration and it is a moment that will live with me forever.

What it means to see your team win the FA Cup

We spent the next five minutes singing and doing the Aaron Ramsey dance (I Just Can't Get Enough) but Fabianski soon put a stop to all that with a mad dash from his goal. It was one of those moments where time stands still. We all sat open-mouthed, head in hands, as the ball rolled agonisingly towards the net. Surely not. But to our relief it tricked harmlessly wide and we could all breath again!

We should have wrapped it up at the death as Rosicky broke clear but the full time whistle blew seconds later and the real celebrations could begin. After spending the last few years desperately wanting to see us win a trophy, Emerson had finally seen his wish come true. His flag was waved for all it was worth.

Looking down at the mad celebrations below us, Emerson said he wished we were in the lower tier, especially when he later saw Ozil hand his boots to a lad in the front row, but nothing could wipe the smile of our faces. We had finally done it!

I have seen Arsenal win many things over the years but this felt extra special. Whether it was because I could share the moment with Emerson, whether it was just the nine-year wait; perhaps it was a bit of both. But this was the best feeling I had experienced at football since Anfield '89. Yes it really was that good!

The trophy celebrations seemed to fly by. Bacary Sagna ran to the front of our stand with the cup and he was quickly followed by Ramsey, wearing a Welsh flag, Wilshere, with a red and white scarf tied around his head, and Giroud. The players looked as happy as us but the biggest smile of all belonged to Wenger.

The players celebrate with the fans

Under so much pressure, you could see the relief and joy on his face. Emerson and I have always backed him and we were genuinely delighted for him. Please sign that contract, Sir.

The walk back up Wembley Way when you have won the cup is fantastic. The singing and dancing was great and Emerson loved it. We got chatting to a guy who had clearly been enjoying himself a little too much and he had to constantly apologise to Emerson for his rather colourful language.

"Don't worry, I have heard worse from my dad!"

The cheek!

The train back to Kings Cross was a happy place to be and Emerson was made even happier when the guy we had been chatting to gave him his match programme. I had refused to buy one at the ground but this fella had been given one for free in corporate hospitality.

"You have it," he said to Emerson as we arrived at Kings Cross.

Emerson could not believe his luck. "Can this day get any better?" he said.

By the time we arrived back at Kings Cross it was 21.15, over an hour after our scheduled train had left. Luckily there was another one due at 21.36 so we bought a drink and some chocolate and finally got to sit down. Hot, tired but very happy.

Of course this was the slow train, stopping at every single station in London, Hertfordshire and Cambridgeshire before finally arriving at Peterborough at 23.08.

I was not relishing the two-and-a-half-hour drive home, the only downside to this itinerary, and Emerson was not much help; he was asleep before we had reached Newark.

So a day that had began over 13 hours earlier, ended at 1.30am as I pulled into Barton. Emerson went straight to bed, still smiling, while I had a much needed cuppa to celebrate. Get in there, you beauty!!

Following your team is often a stressful experience. More often than not you come home disappointed. But occasionally it can be glorious. It is the rare days like this which make it all worthwhile. I just hope it is not another nine years until we can do it again.