By David Hobbs
Sunday 21st May, 5:45am
Mum wakes me up with cup of tea: "Thought we ought to get going!" "Really?" I reply. Yes, I go to football with my Mum (seventy-eight years young), my family (wife, two kids) hate football. "It's only a game," they say as they wave goodbye.
Rush to coach pickup point. "Just in time," mum says.
Board coach number 52.
Arrive at very soggy service station. The waitresses at food "tent" are wearing Leeds scarves. We ignore food as potential health hazard.
Reboard coach. "Soon be there," says mum.
Major traffic jams. We cover eyes with embarrasment as coach driver uses slip roads and hard shoulder to overtake queues to make up time.
Arrive at coach park. Where do we go? Let's just follow others....
Ask helpful Welsh policeman where gate 2 is. Apparently we are standing outside it! He smirks.
Stewards relieve us of plastic bottles. I feel like complaining as I checked the website before and no mention of food restrictions, but no point.
I take my seat in N3, row 17, seat 13.
Mum eventually reaches same to smattering of applause (she has trouble with stairs now).
Kick off. From here on, it is just a blur of excitement, fear, tears and elation, documented so well elsewhere.
Finally we are there. Attempt to hug mum but as she's a bit short, only manage the guy next door. There is no final convulsion of delight, as we realise that Leeds were not at the game and in reality we were all over them.
Finally leave stadium (mum seems to get down stairs quicker than going up).
Back at coach number 52, only waiting for two people now.
Last two finally arrive to round of muted applause. Surely the ride home will be quicker.
STILL IN WALES!
We were overtaken by a family of Leeds supporters, we are all exhausted but they put the following sign up at their window: "Cheer up, you won. Good luck!" I hope there are more mesages like that next season in the Premiership.