Last week marked the sixth anniversary of the 2013 FA Cup Final, the pinnacle of my Wigan Athletic-supporting life (so far!) Today, Watford are taking on the same club we faced in that final against overwhelming odds – Manchester City. The difference is that this game is being held at the end of the domestic season and Manchester City are a much-better side than in 2013!
If we have ever learned anything from football though, we should know that hope is always there – we just need to BELIEVE and get behind our sides as best we can. Wigan would go on to knock this same Manchester City out in the Fifth Round last season, as a League One side, so ANYTHING can happen in a one-off game. So for those Watford fans (or anyone else) here are my experiences of the 2013 FA Cup Final...
I’m up earlier than I really should be, I never do that. I’m
like a dog that hears the patter of feet approaching the front door - my tail
is up and I’m visibly excited. Take that clumsy innuendo as you wish, I don’t
care - my team, the one who I’ve supported since I was a child, whose ground is
five minutes away from my house, are going to their first Cup Final. THE Cup
Final! For the last few weeks, I’ve been checking my ticket. FA CUP FINAL it
says. Manchester City vs. Wigan Athletic.
I keep checking every day to see if it’s still there. It is. This wasn’t some
hoax. We are definitely in a FA Cup Final!
I want to enjoy the day, I don’t want to be thinking about
the game and worrying. I’ve become superstitious (other people would say I have
OCD – I can’t leave a coin on ‘tails’ or the volume on the telly at an odd
number, for example) and some of my football superstitions leading up to a big
game are not to make any predictions, don’t insult the opposition (jokingly or
otherwise) or analyse our chances in any way. I’ve done this too many times and
we’ve been battered, including the League Cup Final in 2006. So it’s all my
fault, obviously. Like all Latics fans, all I wanted was for the lads to put in
a good performance on the biggest stage, make us proud for supporting our team and
as they say, whatever will be, will be. We’re going to Wembley. Again.
Wembley seemed a million miles away on a gloomy afternoon in
January. Cold, wet and slightly peeved that we were missing the omnibus edition
of Coronation Street, we took our seats for the third round game against
Bournemouth and as per usual in a cup game against a lower-league side - we
struggled. Bournemouth went a goal up after a great strike from outside the box
by Eunan O'Kane. Here we go again. The second half was a slight improvement – Angelo
Henriquez (on debut) and Maynor Figueroa hitting the bar and a few half-chances
were created, but still no goal was forthcoming. When the tie started to look
like it was slipping away with 20 minutes to go, we got a lifeline as Figueroa
was adjudged to have been pulled down in the box and the ref gave a penalty.
Jordi Gomez stepped up, his penalty was saved (typical of our luck!) but the
ball fell kindly (unlike our luck!) and Gomez put in the rebound. It was to be
a replay at Dean Court and despite everything indicating that the result was
going to be an ‘upset’ (BBC Radio 5 even covered the game live, just in case)
Mauro Boselli struck a first half screamer to win the match. We were on our
way.
Conference side Macclesfield were to be our next opponents.
Away from home, eager Wigan supporters snapped up the allocation in hours, as
the prospect of going back to a ‘proper ground’ excited many. Macclesfield had
pipped us on goal average to win the Northern Premier League title in 1970, so
revenge was very much on the cards. It
was to be another slightly edgy game, one that we were always in control of,
though. Callum McManaman was hauled down in the box on 7 minutes and Gomez,
this time, scored from the spot. 1-0 it stayed and the draw saw us away again,
this time to Championship Huddersfield - live on ITV! Apart from the game being
our ‘live on ITV debut’ (and only the second time we’ve been live on terrestrial,
free-to-air, television - the other
occasion being in the third round of the FA Cup at home to Chelsea in 2008,
which we lost 2-1) this was the first time we’ve appeared in the fifth round
for TWENTY SIX YEARS! Despite ITV wishing it to be an upset for a Premier
league team against a Championship one, we dished out a great performance,
dominated the game and won 4-1, with Arouna Kone helping himself to a double.
We had matched our best performance in the FA Cup, but the fates were against
us as a Wembley semi-final was just 90 minutes away – we drawn away again. To
Everton.
With this being the quarter finals (the official name being
‘sixth round’) all of the remaining ties were to be on telly and we were to be
on ITV again, on Saturday dinner time (or ‘lunch time’, if you’re wrong) which
also happened to be my birthday. Some birthday this will turn out to be;
Everton were playing well, looking on course for a top 6 finish in the Premier
League and the overwhelming favourites to reach Wembley. Both sides started
brightly; Wigan’s Joel Robles had to parry away a shot by Nikica Jelavic and at
the other end, Shaun Maloney hit the inside of the post, the ball trickling
agonisingly away from the goal. We were making a real game of this and we’re
looking confident - McCarthy hit a volley, which the goalkeeper pushed over his
bar for a corner. Gomez stepped up to take the kick, the ball going straight
from the corner to Figueroa - who headed in! 1-0 Wigan!
What followed next was a quite insane 3 minutes, as first,
McManaman pounced on a mistake from Phil Neville, running away from everyone
before chipping the ball over the goalkeeper and into the corner! Just 2
minutes later, Gomez struck in a cheeky shot from the edge of the box. We
screamed the house down as we were THREE-NIL UP! I just couldn’t believe it.
Where on earth did this come from? Everton didn’t know what to do and Wigan
just played them off the park, passing the ball around them like they were
cones on a training pitch. We never let our concentration slip for a minute and
held on for a Wembley semi-final. After a night of celebrating, it took me
about a week of watching and re-watching the game again to fully understand
what had happened. We were at the ‘new’ Wembley for the first time!
After a painful few weeks of waiting, which culminated in
watching the entirety of two awful sixth round games between Blackburn and
Millwall, we arrived at Wembley to play Millwall - the last team we beat at the
‘old’ Wembley, in the 1999 Auto Windscreens Shield final. It was a close game
that day, Paul Rodgers (a midfielder, not the frontman of rock bands ‘Free’ and
‘Bad Company’ - although that would have been incredible) scoring the winner in
the 90th minute. We didn’t have to wait 90 minutes again, as we
dominated the play and won 2-0, Shaun Maloney volleying in and McManaman
rounding off a great move, latching on to one of the best through-balls you’ll
ever see from Gomez. Everything was all
right now - we were in a FA Cup Final!
The day of the final arrives, I’m catching the coach from
the DW Stadium with my dad and sister, it’s rare that we go to games together
these days, so it’s always nice when we do and an occasion like this just seems
perfect for us to be together. I’ve never seen as many coaches in my life
though - with us and City occupying the same region of the country, I predicted
that there weren’t many coaches left in the entirety of Northern England. Our
coach, organised by the club, came from Middlesbrough! All of this could have
been a lot easier if the FA/television hadn’t have insisted on a kick-off time
of 5.15pm and Virgin Trains not running services back to Wigan or Manchester.
But we needn’t have worried, as the FA kindly pointed out that their partners,
National Express, were providing their services too. It’s nice to know that
supporters are well thought of! I can’t be too angry today though, we’re off to
the final - and it seems like a dream. On the journey down, we’re hearing
rumours on the radio and in the newspaper about how Man City manager, Roberto Mancini,
is facing the sack. Will this help our cause? The City players can’t be too up
for it if they’ve heard whispers that their manager is going to get the boot?
No, this is an FA Cup Final and they are top professionals, they’ll be well up
for it.
It was our second visit to the stadium in a month. The
journey though a long one, was enjoyable, culminating in spotting some bus
spotters on the Wembley car park. For us, Wembley is the national stadium, a
good day-out and the culmination of the season. Or it should be. For these bus
spotters – it’s exactly the same. Imagine all the attractive coaches and buses,
from all over the country, that come here. It’s like a red light district for
vehicles, and the honey is free. Some people might see it as a bizarre hobby, but
they probably think that following a football team all over the country is
bizarre too. For a laugh, I snapped away at them on my phone - let’s see how
they like it. Thankfully, I was still on the coach, so they couldn’t get me.
It’s a good job people aren’t permitted to drink on the coach, or else a lot of
mickey-taking would have been directed at the poor bus spotters, who are
probably lacking a bit of self-esteem as it is.
When we get off, my dad and sister are mysteriously ill and
push what looks like a bottle of coke in my hands. It was probably cheap
out-of-date cola or something, because it didn’t taste like coke and as I said,
the pair of them are behaving funny. Thankfully my mate Chris turned up on one
of the other coaches, so at least two of us weren’t ill. We decamp to the
nearest pub for a few drinks and a bit of a sing song, as you do for any big
match. I didn’t want to get overly ill
as I’d like to remember some of the day, but 7 or 8 or 9 (I can’t really
remember) drinks later, seemed to calm the nerves somewhat. In what seemed like
no time at all (but was probably about 2 hours) we made our way to the stadium.
Wembley, as you’d expect, is impressive. It’s massive - you could probably fit
the entire population of Wigan town in it. The Council taking the corporate
seats for free of course. A part of me wanted to waive the fact that it cost
£900 million, but then I thought again. £900 MILLION! You could buy the whole
of Wigan with that and have change to repave all the roads. I even had a bit of
repartee with the stewards on the
gate, which could have seen me denied entry if they didn’t have a sense of
humour. Thankfully, they did. Ignoring
the overpriced concourse, we go to our seats and observe our surroundings. We
happen to be on the last row of the top tier – and my seat is at the end of the
row! It’s a great view though. Looking around, I’ve never sobered up so quick
as it hit me again that we were at a Cup Final and now I saw it with my own
eyes. The band of the Grenadier Guards are marching around, playing music. We
have the people on the pitch who just stand there doing nothing and everyone in
the stands has a flag under their seats. My seat didn’t have a flag under it
though - obviously some scamp had stolen it prior to my arrival.
Abide With Me. It evokes memories for some people. Those who
are with us now, but mainly, those who aren’t. Those people who you used to go
to Latics with, those who you shared the good and bad times with. Those who
used to go when it wasn’t fashionable, when times were hard and those who threw
money in a bucket to keep the club going to allow us all to be here now.
Everyone who has ever gone to Latics, who aren’t with us now, would be equally
bursting with pride at seeing their club here. Without trying to sound condescending,
Wigan Athletic is a club for the people of Wigan, rather than a brand to be
sold all over the world. Even though many of the players aren’t even English,
let alone Wiganers, we all feel represented whenever they play. We’re not the
biggest club in the world, but we don’t want to be. We want to represent our
town and ourselves at the highest level possible. We’re up against a club that
is on the verge of becoming a world power in the sport and we have as much
right to be here as they do. This is why we watch football and this is why we
are so proud of our club when we hear this hymn, even though we can barely hear
it and some of us are wiping tears away.
The teams come out. Dave Whelan, who has done so much for
his hometown and football club, leading the Wigan team out. Next comes Roberto
and Emmerson Boyce, our captain, carrying our mascot, Joesph Kendrick, a 4
year-old with NKH, a rare debilitating genetic condition, just summed up our
club and our town in one image. The charity which he represents, Joseph’s Goal,
aims to raise money and awareness to find a cure for NKH. Boycey made the comment that Joesph is one of us – he epitomises the
fight to be here, like Wigan in many respects. What a top man, the very
example of a leader. Then the national anthem started and it finally hit me as
I looked down at the players and all around me, what on earth am I doing here? This
is an FA Cup Final, I shouldn’t be here! I notice that I’m shaking a bit, this
is why I’ll be no good in America – they play the national anthems before any
sporting event, here, it’s just for the major ones - that’s how you know this is big. I felt proud, proud of my
team reaching the FA Cup Final, whatever happens, this will go down in history.
We all will, just by being here. The anthem finished and I was worrying about
the game all over again, although this may have something to do with a bit of
the alcohol wearing off.
We’re tense in the stands, but the players aren’t. From the
kick-off they get into their opponents, pressing them, attacking them and
passing the ball around brilliantly. It’s like a chess match – you don’t really
know who has the upper hand or what will happen next. We have the ball for a
bit, then City have it, then we have it again - both teams looking for any gaps
in which they can slip a ball through or run into. City have a few early
chances, only half-chances, not enough for us to panic about. In fact, is it good
for us that City had these half-chances so early on? It certainly put the
players on high alert and if we just dominated possession of the ball, we may
have got caught out if City made a meaningful attack and the players got caught
cold.
As soon as my own confidence started to grow about our
chances, City come streaming up the pitch and after an exchange of passes sees
Nasri in space, he plays it towards Sliva, who passes it back into the box and
Tevez has a chance, he must be in. I’m waiting for the net to ripple. Somehow, Joel
flies across the goal, saves with his boot and the ball spins over the bar. Big
moment. A moment that will undoubtedly give the goalkeeper – and the team –
some confidence. Not me though, I was still doing my nut in, high up in the
stand. The chance for City seemed to have made Latics more determined. Callum McManaman
is up the other end, exchanging passes with Maloney and Kone and being an
absolute nuisance to the City defence, and in particular, Gael Clichy. He twisted
and turned past a few defenders, and Joe Hart, THE GOALKEEPER! SHOOOOOOOOOOOOT! was the cry. He did,
but it was blocked.
It’s half-time. Phew! The team is cheered off, they’ve
certainly put in a shift already. I’m that nervous, I even hand over the best
part of a FIVER for a beer. Because of the extortionate prices, I never wanted
to buy anything from the stadium, but because of my current disposition, I
simply had to have something to do at half-time. Staying in the toilets,
muttering to myself, could see me arrested. The chatter during the break was
all about the fact that we were playing
well but needed to continue to keep things tight at the back and not try to force a goal, in fear of them picking us off. The £5 beer helped
immensely and I returned to my seat as the players returned to the pitch.
The second half starts as the first ended – both teams
having the ball for long periods, working out who’ll be making which move and
when. The weather was changeable and I was still on the edge of my seat. At
least I made a friend this time - the steward who was patrolling the area near
us seemed up for a chat. Seemed up to it to me, anyway. 66 minutes in and
strains of I’m A Believer can be
heard from the Latics fans. City fans respond with Blue Moon, but as Latics continue to press, Believer continues. We’re starting to believe in the stands, it
seems the players already do. You Are My
Sunshine is also belted out by Wiganers - the sun kept disappearing and re-appearing
all day, almost as much as the possession of the ball changed from boots with
blue or black socks emanating from them. Every Wigan player seems to be on top
form, as they need to be, attempting to win their own personal battles on the
pitch - and if the players can win their personal battles against their
opponents, that’s half the job done.
If you were watching on telly, you could be forgiven in
thinking the match was boring, as clear-cut chances were hard to come by. It
was anything but in the stands and as time slowly passed by, you could sense
something big was about to happen. We had them pegged back as we continued to
press - and they didn’t like it. Foul after foul, the City players couldn’t handle
the direct running of McManaman, nor the trickery of Shaun Maloney. The red card was the clincher for this
nervous, slightly drunk, worrier – we’re
on top here, we actually might win this! I’m stood up at this point, I
literally can’t watch sitting down. McManaman is through. GO OOOOON! Then Zabaleta comes from nowhere to haul him down. I
forget during the many howls of derision that he’s already been booked, for an
earlier foul on McManaman. My steward
friend tells me ‘he’s off’, ‘He’s already been booked?’ He didn’t
need to answer – I saw a flash of red and arguably City’s most influential
player was stomping off. What a chance. Prior to the incident, the noise had
been steadily growing as Latics were looking comfortable, confidence was high. We’ll do it in extra time, I thought, as
I was watching Zabaleta walk to the tunnel. Plenty
of time to take advantage of 10-man City. Maloney hits the free-kick just
over, but all you could hear was an encouraging cry of COME OOOOOOOOON! Men and women of all ages were screaming, sensing
this is our chance.
As the clock ticks towards 90 minutes, the players are still
passing the ball calmly, waiting for any gap in the City defence. McArthur
plays the ball down the right and McManaman cuts inside Clichy. GO OOOOON! The desperation from everyone
was vocal. He glides into the box and is brought down. PENALTY? Surely? No, it’s a
corner. What a crap decision - Clichy clearly brought him down! FUMING! As if
the referee will give a penalty against Man City in the last minute of a cup
final! Frustration all around – we’ve been robbed there. What happened next was
like a moment after you take a picture. Just imagine you’re lining up the shot,
trying to find the right image, the perfect image and then you press in the
button. Now just imagine that picture taking what must seem like hours to take
- that’s what it was like. The ball floating its way in from the resulting
corner, somebody in a black shirt rushing towards it and the next moment
something white in colour was nestling in the corner of the net.
It can’t be the ball, can it?
It seemed to nestle in that corner for what seemed like an age.
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
Looking around, it was pandemonium.
People jumping all over the place, throwing children in the air, complete
strangers were hugging, crying and laughing with one another. Men kissed each
other and even hugged the nearest steward they could (guilty!) Some were still
screaming as if we’d just scored, about 3 minutes after we actually did. Some
lunatics (just men, unfortunately) were even taking their clothes off in a fit
of unprecedented, hypnotic joy (or at least trying to take their shirts off over
their ale-filled bellies). I was convinced the goal wouldn’t be allowed. This
can’t happen. Wigan scoring in injury time of a Cup Final? No, wait, he’s walking away, the Ref’s walking away! He’s not blown up
for a foul, IT’S A GOAL! I went mad all over again, hugging people.
Right, CALM DOWN!
I was telling everyone who would listen. Nobody did listen. At this point, I
was standing up and screaming at the game below (as if they could hear me) like
I was Martinez, directing play and kicking every ball. They didn’t listen
either. I don’t care how much of an idiot I looked - I was right in the top
tier, on the back row of Wembley’s East Stand and my team were minutes away
from winning the FA Cup. It didn’t matter though - EVERYONE was screaming their
heads off, wanting that final whistle to sound. We still had 3 minutes of
injury time to go.
All I remember is Roger Espinoza putting in a few tackles
and the backline, made up of the entire team it seemed, heading everything
away. My head was banging due to desperation and remnants of alcohol. My heart
stopped when Joel sprinted out of his goal and his area to boot a ball into the
stand WHAT’S HE DOING??????????? I
screamed (Yes, with that many question marks and slightly more colourful
phrases)
Thankfully, he knew what he was doing.
I needn’t have worried. We held on. We’ve won the cup!
WE’VE WON THE CUP!
WIGAN ATHLETIC HAVE WON THE CUP!
I said earlier that going to the final seemed like a dream,
but that’s rubbish really, because you don’t have a say in how a dream turns
out. If you could, then I WOULD be a hero and decapitate all those zombies that
invade my local Asda (instead of hiding in the stockroom eating all the
biscuits, whilst people bang on the door wanting to be let in as they are eaten
alive). Yeah, getting to the final is a great achievement but winning it is the
real dream. Can you imagine the feeling of winning something before you
actually experience it? I don’t think you can. It’s something that you didn’t
expect to happen. Scoring in the last minute. What chance did we actually have?
This now, as I’m embracing my family, friends, stewards and total strangers as
the Wigan players celebrate, could never have been predicted. You can predict
having a nice day out and watching your team play in a major final when you’re
sat down on the coach yeah, but you can never predict the emotions that go
through you during the day, as your team edges closer to winning. That’s what
it’s all about. That’s what makes supporting a football club worthwhile.
Emmerson Boyce and Gary Caldwell lift the FA Cup for Wigan
Athletic. Madness. Growing up, I’ve seen other teams lift the cup and I never
in my wildest dreams expected it to be my team one day. Even the ridiculous
version of The Great Escape theme
didn’t spoil the moment. I’m speaking to a lad of about 9 and I can just
imagine how he’s feeling - I was 9 when I first saw Latics in the fourth tier
and loved it. Imagine being 9 and seeing your club, the town where you’re from
and where you live, winning the FA Cup. Him and thousands like him, will be
Latics supporters for life now, surely. They’ll always remember this moment as
being one of the happiest of their lives. That’s what football should be like.
It shouldn’t be about out-spending other clubs and striving to have the most
fans from all corners of the world, just so you can sell them tat. It should be
about creating memories, moments you’ll remember for the rest of your life.
Nobody will remember a season that saw you finish mid-table in the Premier
League, or in our case, 17th and just avoiding relegation. It’s a
pointless existence.
Dave Whelan, whose personal history with the competition is
well known, has been provided with the perfect ending - he’s someone who has
also invested so much into the club and the town, and I’m delighted that he has
got his reward. I can’t think of a worthier goalscorer than Ben Watson, another
member of the broken leg club who has
spent the last few months trying to get fit. He’s your typical midfielder, who
regularly slips under the radar - works hard, without getting many plaudits. Before
the game, the media were lamenting the lack of English players playing in the
Final, the irony of an English player settling the final wasn’t lost on us.
Fair play to the City fans, who were very gracious after the
game, when they could be forgiven for not being so. We met them outside and at
service stations on the way home and all of them were congratulating us,
shaking hands and saying that we deserved to win. I didn’t point out that I
didn’t play in the game, so had very little impact on it, though. The majority
of City supporters have experienced the ups and downs with their club, so they
seem to understand how much the win meant to us. They get it. Apart from one
woman, who screamed ‘GOING DOWN’ at us. She doesn’t get it.
It must have been about 1am when we got home, but I didn’t care, time didn’t matter at this point. I even made myself sick, not because of the ale – in all the excitement I had drank too much fizzy pop on the coach and it wouldn’t go down (it wasn’t the out-of-date pop either), I didn’t care though. Would the club go down at Arsenal on Tuesday? If we do, we have a bit of jewellery to go with, a sign of our achievement, that will make it all these years of being in the top division and struggling for the most part, worthwhile. Do I really care? Well, we’ll see. Will anything that may happen on the pitch to this club in the future take away what today meant and my love of my football club? Never.
It must have been about 1am when we got home, but I didn’t care, time didn’t matter at this point. I even made myself sick, not because of the ale – in all the excitement I had drank too much fizzy pop on the coach and it wouldn’t go down (it wasn’t the out-of-date pop either), I didn’t care though. Would the club go down at Arsenal on Tuesday? If we do, we have a bit of jewellery to go with, a sign of our achievement, that will make it all these years of being in the top division and struggling for the most part, worthwhile. Do I really care? Well, we’ll see. Will anything that may happen on the pitch to this club in the future take away what today meant and my love of my football club? Never.
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