HEART-WRENCHING, breathtaking, excruciating, bewildering. Never to be repeated, never to be forgotten. Forget celebration, what we needed was resuscitation. From the birth of Maine Road to the future of the Etihad, those 95 minutes are now etched in the club’s history with solid gold.
I slept in my City shirt last night. It’s stained with tears and blood.
It will probably take a few days for my shredded mind and battered body to recover.
Now I know what it feels like to go the distance with Ali. In time, when the stress hormones finally recede from my withered body, I will feel unbridled joy. The realisation will set in that my boyhood team has won the title.
The relief at the final whistle could not remove the shock. I wasn’t tired after the match, I was exhausted. I took two codeine tablets before bed and right now, seven hours later, I’ve still got a headache.
Living through that match was hell, but the final whistle was heaven. If what we witnessed was the resurrection, Aguero is Jesus and our saviour. Our heroic manager Mancini is now the messiah. We are his devoted disciples forever. Joey Barton is the devil and Mark Hughes must be lingering somewhere in the background in the shape of a demon.
It’s amazing how time warps as tension mounts. Time seemed to slip agonisingly away in that match and when the fans invaded the pitch at the end it was a beautiful sight, but it felt like we were back in the seventies. But it is 2012, a year forever to be etched in our memories and tattooed in our souls.
My heart stopped and started so many times I lost count. We won the title, but we lost years off our lives. We found glory, but not without sacrifice. We lost something in that match we’ll never get back, but we gained everything. What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger. Past hurts were healed with one kick of a ball.
We rose from the ashes and now we soar with wind in our wings and hope in our hearts. Having long suffered in the cold shadow of our neighbours, the Blues have finally emerged into the light. A ray of sunshine now warms our bodies that no cloud will ever cover.
What a season we’ve had. Early giddiness, Silva’s magic, the Tevez tantrum, the 6-1 red rout, Kompany’s red card, Kompany’s derby header, Kompany‘s legendary leadership, Hart’s heart, defeat at Arsenal, Yaya’s Midas touch, Aguero’s right boot.
We needed a miracle and we got one. We are champions, the moon is blue and I’m no longer alone.
Damon Cronshaw is a Herald journalist and a lifelong City fan.