Us Palace fans have been seeking some kind of therapy since the events of Saturday evening and none more so than Simon Connolly who makes his very welcome debut on TEB.
The Monday after the Saturday before was as if the Sunday did not happen.
The day of rest was spent sitting on my sofa all day feeling devastated about what I had witnessed the day before.
Like most, I travelled home from Wembley inconsolable. I left the ground with my four year old son Tommy on my shoulders while holding my eight year old son Frankie’s hand both asking me ‘are you okay Daddy?’
My reply was ‘yes boys, I am okay, just a bit upset that we lost’ with a real lump in my throat. It was then Frankie repeated word for word something that I said to my own Father twenty-six years before – ‘don’t worry Daddy, we will win it one day!”
I just looked at him, smiled and replied ‘yes son, maybe one day but who knows when?’
Now I have had time to suck it all up and TRY really hard to come to terms with it, I think that after all, it is only a game, isn’t it?
What had been the best day I have ever spent as a Palace fan turned out to be my most heart breaking.
Back in 1990 I was only twelve and I was lucky enough to go to both the final and the replay. Beating Liverpool in the semi-final was enough for me as I was able to stand my own in the playground again with all the John Barnes loving kids I went to school with following our infamous thrashing at Anfield earlier in the season. Being there to cheer Geoff and the lads on at the old Wembley I thought could never be topped, until now.
The memories of the first final came flooding back when super sub Jason Puncheon had his own Ian Wright moment and smashed it past David De Gea. The jubilation and hysteria that was felt for the next three minutes among people hugging and kissing total strangers was, apart from my kids being born, the greatest feeling I had ever had.
Along with every Palace fan in the ground and around the world, I really thought we had done it. What made that moment more special than any of the goals in 1990 was we had waited patiently for twenty-six years for it to happen.
Twenty-six years of pure passion and love for a club poured out of every supporters body. I had never before felt anything like it at any Palace game I had been to and believe me I have been to a few. I have been part of the generation who have not stopped talking about that final for twenty-six years, a final that was sure to be forgotten as this was the year. The class of 2016 was the one that would be talked about for the next twenty-six years and beyond.
We could all see the headlines already – ‘KNOCKOUT PUNCH’ or ‘LOCAL BOY HERO’. Those of us who were there all those years before and have supported the club through thick and thin ever since should of known better when we witnessed the FA Cup being ripped from our grasp six minutes fifty-two seconds from the end. The deflation when Juan Mata scored the equaliser felt like someone had kicked me where it hurts as the ever so quiet United fans remembered why they were there and finally made a noise.
It was then us Palace fans carried out the best piece of supporting ever seen or heard of in the public eye. We acted like we had scored and drowned out the ever so disappointing United faithful. We gave the players who had also spent the last three minutes thinking they had done it the lift they needed. Believe me, if this had not of happened, United would most likely have gone on and won the game in normal time. We all still believed we could do it.
Extra time and we all believed. Most wondered that we might be in trouble if it went to penalties but I could see another hero coming from somewhere especially when Dwight Gayle was put through. Yet again the footballing gods did not shine down on us and we were all left to drown in own despair.
I still have not had it in me to watch the game back but I know one thing – I was proud to be a Palace fan on Saturday.
There are questions that will need answers when the autopsy takes place over the next few weeks but now is not the time. Many have begun the dissection by asking question such as;
- Why was Yohan Cabaye below par?
- Why did it take Wilfried Zaha take twenty-five minutes to get going?
- Why did we let Wayne Rooney run the game?
- Why did Mark Clattenburg not play advantage on more that one occasion and give us so little throughout?
- Why did we not concentrate for the three minutes after taking the lead and see the game out?
I am sure the answers will come out in the wash and I am confident that the club will be busy in the summer trying to make sure that we do not have to wait another twenty-six years for another chance at winning some silverware.
For the now though….
‘HERE’S TO YOU THE FAMOUS RED AND BLUE, SELHURST LOVES YOU MORE THAN YOU WILL KNOW!”
