If Timm Klose dyed his hair bright red, had some deconstructive dentistry and adopted an exaggerated Scouse accent he could easily become the next Cilla Black.
I know this because as his imperious header in the late, late show hit the back of the Barclay net he sparked off the most unlikely bromance you could imagine.
My mate Tony sits a couple of rows in front of me in the Upper Barclay and is on record many times as saying he cannot stand the guy who sits next to him – in fact they hadn’t spoken in about five seasons. That all changed as Timm scored – hugs all round and an animated chat all the way down the Mount Everest that is the Barclay stairs.
Mates for life now, I reckon. Blind Date couldn’t have done it better.
Which is in total contrast to what is going on over at Ipswich, where a divorce seems on the cards with dear old Mick Mac responding to the supporters who had abused him for his substitutions, among other things.
I’m no lip reader but it looks pretty obvious what he said. Oh dear. With the possible exception of The Roedent, I cannot imagine any of our managers ever reducing themselves to that level. Yorkshire grit or something that rhymes with it, fans do not want to hear that from their team’s manager.
Talking of “oh dear”, those words sum up our entire first half performance.
There is an old tale about the moths and the mammoths where the clever, lightweight, good looking ones would be stamped upon by the heavy, clumsy bullies at every opportunity. And in the first 45 that’s exactly what happened. Even Angus looked a little rattled, although the loss of the coin toss meant he had the strongest sun in his eyes that February could offer.
It looked as if the dangerous Joe Garner and the towering Dominic Iorfa were prominently threatening and might conjure something but fortunately it wasn’t to be.
The round of applause on the 16th minute for you-know-what lightened the atmosphere. I have to say this was the least toxic Ipswich contingent I have ever encountered at The Carra; fair play to them.
Whatever Daniel Farke did or said at the break I know not but suffice to say we came out (after making the Blues wait on the pitch for our arrival of course) and totally bossed the second half.
We did boss it, without question, and but for the brilliance of Bartosz Bialkowski could have had three. The much-maligned Nelson Oliveira was denied by the finest stop of the lot; Bialkowski getting down to his right to keep out his more than decent effort.
Such was our dominance, what happened next was almost inevitable. A free kick led to a corner from which everyone’s favourite Ipswich player, Luke Chambers headed home.
Gary and his fellow River Enders would have had a better view than me but it looked like both Christoph Zimmermann and Alex Tettey got too much of the rough stuff for the goal to have stood. Referee David Coote thought otherwise. He might have been right, I’ve seen no replays at time of writing.
So, all aboard for the fantasy finale. Grant Hanley chased a seemingly lost cause and hooked it over for Klose to nut home and send the entire ground double ape. I’m sure my watch must have stopped, even now. Maybe Mr Coote’s did too.
We went mental – the old, the young, everyone in every stand. Many gestures were made at the visiting contingent and I’m ashamed (not really) to have joined in.
There’s something to build on with this evolving squad, there really is.
As Farke said afterwards it felt much more like a win than a draw.
As for my pal Tony and his new-found friend, maybe Timm will buy a hat for the wedding.
Just a couple of thoughts on the matchday security: despite the much-publicised police advice there were no police officers at the junction of Riverside Road and Riverside itself (there are for nearly every other game) and no bag check at the Barclay turnstiles. Not a complaint, just an observation.
But here’s the bit I really didn’t understand. Unusually I had to get to Mundesley after the game and decided to train and bus it. As I entered the train station a PCSO asked me if I had a ticket. I dug it out of my wallet, gave it to him and he studied it before asking: “Where are you going?”
As it had Norwich to North Walsham printed on it in large bold type, I reckon he was no Sherlock.