Burning bright

Only yesterday was the time of our lives

Don’t worry Tigers fans, it wasn’t a dream. Although at times, it sure felt like it.

We arrived in London on Friday and found ourselves well outnumbered by red shirts. Boro’s last-minute instatement into the play-off final meant many supporters, it seemed, had been forced to travel the day before thanks to a lack of other available options.

After Spygate, it did leave us wondering if we’d missed some sort of memo.

The build-up created a sense of awkwardness too, you felt, among Middlesbrough, despite their strength in numbers. There must have been 20 or more of them for every bit of black and amber spotted at the start of the weekend but, as we walked around Wembley, some were almost apologetic about their presence.

‘We shouldn’t really be here, but we’re going to enjoy it,’ said one, wishing us nice weekend. Another, keen to chat at the self-checkout in the Tesco Express, pressed us on what we thought should have happened. ‘Start the play-offs again, that’s what they should have done,’ was his verdict, before asking how some of the City players who used to grace the Riverside were doing for us.

By morning, more of East Yorkshire had started to make their way down to the capital alongside the North Yorkshire contingent and we headed to the Hull City fan park at BOXPARK to escape the rising heat and avoid turning the same shade as a Boro home shirt.

Here, the atmosphere built throughout the day, with a live recording of the Hull Daily Mail’s 1904 podcast, including guest panellists, Michael Turner, and The Telegraph’s Kathryn Batte.

Later Nick Barmby took the stage and alarmed us all with a 3-2 (to Hull City) score prediction. We all wanted the win, of course, but did we need more drama? I’d already cried once by about 10.30am. The last time I had been to Wembley with Hull City was for the FA Cup final in 2014. Kasper was just four. My mum had died suddenly about 18-months before. (The inconveniently timed marriage of an aunt prevented our attendance at the 2016 play-off final - although we did get to wear Steve Bruce masks in honour of the manager’s wedding-themed meme of the time).

It felt like a milestone then. Not just because of the way you inevitably think of the people who would have been there for such moments and are no longer with us. But because we’d managed to get through such tough days. Football, always part of my life since taking part in a Tigers Trust summer camp at primary school, supported me. It gave me something to do on Saturdays, a place to take my young son, just as my parents had taken me so many times after the free tickets for Boothferry Park earned at the end of that camp got me hooked.

And 12 years on, Kasper now towering over me, there was more to be proud of, and of course, much more missed. Time now then, to make new memories so we ordered a pint and let the DJ get us pumped up with tunes that repeated often, becoming louder and louder at each play. This worked well until ‘Someone Like You’ - the Adele song that we’ve recently adopted as ours. First heard from the dressing room at Millwall, loud enough to permeate the post-match interviews, it feels like its somehow always been ours. It brought more tears but we were having fun, dancing and singing and watching amber commemorative wristbands as they were flicked continuously into the air.

There was more joy brought by a surprise appearance by Caleb Folan, who scored the winner in probably my favourite City game of all time - our first ever in the Premier League at home to Fulham back in 2008. They say never meet your heroes but I managed to pluck-up the courage to ask him for a photo and I’m so glad I did because he was lovely and it really was wonderful to chat briefly about those fantastic days. For the record, and I won’t say much on this because my husband is my first and so far only subscriber, it should be noted that life after football certainly seems to suit the forward and what I mean by that is the boy looks good. So good that I looked up what he is doing now (purely in the interests of research) and learnt that he’s now helping others as a holistic therapist. His is a fascinating story - Caleb, if you’re reading this you should start your own Substack.

Then Acun arrived. It was less than a couple of hours to go to kick-off but instead of soaking up the stadium hospitality he chose to visit the increasingly stuffy and packed fan park, looking relaxed but sounding emotional. He told us that he’d flown 500 friends and family over from Türkiye but said whatever the size of your own tribe, at Hull City everyone belonged. ‘One family. One dream,’ as he had told us time and time again since buying our club, and you have to believe, falling in love with our imperfect city that he still calls ‘beautiful’.

We headed to the stadium and swapped stories with strangers and friends about the journey - literal and footballing - to get us here, our predictions and, of course, the weather, before taking our seats in the blistering temperatures. The tifo that was dragged over our heads brought temporary relief but then we were staring into the sun, the players little more than shimmering mirages. Half-time forced a retreat and a queue for water so long that we returned for the second half only as the players were taking their second drinks break of the afternoon.

Neither the refill stations or paid catering kiosks could cope with our dehydrated demand and extra-time became an increasingly worrying prospect. Until, with three minutes of added time left, well, you know what happened. In the stands, we were revived, the sun no match for the Tigers now burning bright.