I was a bit of a jonah for us that season in local so watched with family at home which I'll never regret. Head gone at halftime. Manc mate rings as he was covering me for work next day to console me and that I should just go out on the piss anyway. "No team could live with that, don't be embarrassed" Patronising or caring to this day only he knows. He wanted to puke by midnight I'm told. Old dear sitting on the stairs with rosary beads at pens. Walking round half shocked half dreamland. Off to local the lads banned me from to walk in to a sea of red and a mate above the crowd on our high table strutting like Rick flair. The token bitter manc in his white milan jersey being slaughtered. The 2 hour kip before a breakfast roll and cans in front of SSN all day. The homecoming and its then you realise just how special this club is because its us and only us that pull that batshit crazy night off. Magical. 16 years. Jesus Christ.