Winning city...

Well done Hull City. To Wembley for the first time ever in a history spanning 104 years with a resounding 4-1 victory (6-1 on aggregate. Blimey!) over Watford. My dad followed the Tigers in excess of 50 years and endured six decades of frustrating on-field antics, getting through the hard times by reminiscing about the glory days of Bunker's Hill, the nigh-sexual experience of watching Raich Carter fly down the wing and the almost success of the Waggy-Chillo days (1970-71, cor, that was a year. Having sat in front of the South Stand on the small boundary fence that ran around Boothferry Park during that season, those games are probably amongst my earliest memories. It all went wrong. With one eye on spending my leisure time down the Boulevard I remember ripping a team photo in half in a childish huff). By the dawn of the new era at the KC Stadium, dad was too ill to haul himself along to watch the start of the renaissance. He'd have enjoyed tonight's glorious shenanigans, which, if a city's fortunes are linked in any way to that of its sports club's, could well be the moment when Hull and its people moved from alsorans to fully-fledged winners. Indeed, when the goals started pouring in I felt incredibly proud on his behalf. And all this coming from a rugby fan (we are tantalisingly close to having three, yes three, professional top flight sports clubs). Be nice to go to Wembley to watch the Tigers roar but the day - and indeed tonight - is for the fans of the Tigers who have been there throughout the dark days. You deserve it, you bloody magnificent winners. Altogether now...we are Hull, we are Hull, we are Hull...