Mollys Guide - Spring 2018

ground than we’d anticipated,
so after an hour of queuing
through hundreds of fans just
to get an extra few yards, we
unceremoniously dumped the car
and raced into Wembley with only
a few minutes to spare.
The atmosphere was electric and
the players were already out and
warming up. The fans were singing
and there were familiar faces
everywhere – it was just minutes
to kick off.
As the tension grew so did the
rumbles in our tummies and it
was only as the teams walked out
to sing the National Anthem that
we realised we’d left our stash of
snacks in the car.
We didn’t have an E-number
between the three of us and were
forced to watch in envy as families
gorged on popcorn and hotdogs in
the close vicinity.
It was more than our appetites
which were about to be whet
however as the Shrews finally got
the game underway.
It was a cagey affair in the first few
minutes but the crowd were in fine
voice as City held their own during
the opening encounters.
Then with just 16 minutes on the
clock, Elliott Whitehouse was on
hand from a corner to fire the ball
home and send 20k plus yellowbellies
into rapturous joy.
We were 1-0 up in the cup final,
dreamland again. Cowley’s army
on the front foot as per usual
– everyone on cloud nine once
more.
The Shrews came close a few
times, but a spectacular save from
the Imps keeper and some dogged
defending by the rest of the lads
saw us enter the last 10 minutes
of the game with our noses still
ahead.
The ref added five minutes of injury
time to our agony but after what
seemed like more than double
that to us long-suffering fans, he
eventually blew his whistle and
history was secured.
They’d done it. Lincoln City’s
first appearance at Wembley
was victorious, in contrast to the
unlucky Shrews who’d now come
away for the fourth time with
absolutely nothing to show for it.
It was a magical moment. The
crowd couldn’t contain ourselves
and as the players and managers
walked over to thank us and lift
the trophy, we all realised we’d
experienced something rather
special.
As the fans filed out and the
celebrations continued our rumbling
tummies were about to be satisfied.
Wembley’s finest (sic) fried chicken
duly demolished before our mad
dash back up the M1.
In the tired silence of the night
on the long journey home, my
thoughts were my own as I quietly
contemplated what we’d been
lucky enough to witness.
It is quite remarkable how far the
Imps have come, from obscurity to
challenging champions in the space
of just a few months.
Memories created to last a lifetime,
I could hear my son telling his own
grandkids how City had lifted the
trophy ‘all those years ago’. The
heart in my chest was singing as
loud as the fans had been earlier
in the afternoon.
A large glass of red wine and a
quick look at the highlights were the
order of the evening when we finally
arrived home just after 9:30pm.
It had been the day of days, the
game of games and an adventure
that we’d never ever forget.
Whatever the future holds for
LCFC, one thing’s for certain. The
experience of the last two seasons
and our long awaited trip down
Wembley way will forever be
etched into our consciousnesses.
‘Imp’ossible is just an opinion for
the red and white army from our
beautiful cathedral city after all.
See you next season.
#UpTheImps.
*search for ‘Now The Parties
Are Over’ in Desperate Dad at
www.barrylwood.wordpress.
com to read more on this particular
adventure.
Barry Wood is an ex journalist now working
for the NHS in Lincolnshire. A father of two
boys and husband to one Portuguese wife,
he blogs regularly as Desperate Dad.
Read more adventures:
barrylwood.wordpress.com
Facebook: Desperate Dad
Twitter: @Dad_Desperate
www.mollysguide.co.uk
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