Kevin Baldwin

The police, having allowed this situation to develop in the first place, appeared to have no idea at all how to defuse it. We were wedged between a row of horses at the front and vans at the back and couldn’t move. In effect, we were being ‘kettled’ – something I never expected to experience…

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She views my unbroken run of matches between 1991 and 2002 as my barren wilderness years, when I supposedly cut a sorry figure wandering the country from ground to ground like a poor lost soul, carrier bag in hand to stop my match programme from going soggy.

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He says there are two types of bravery on a football pitch: the first and most obvious is being prepared to go in for challenges when you know there’s a fair chance you’re going to get hurt; the second is being prepared to take the ball and play it with control under pressure….

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The first sign that something might be afoot came the weekend before. I was listening to 6-0-6 (a rare event these days, and likely to become even rarer if Robbie Savage is a regular on there) when a Burnley fan came on and said he’d heard Lambert had resigned…

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Deck the stands with boughs of holly, 
Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one,
Ipswich fans are melancholy, 
Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one.
Those in yellow/green apparel, 
Four-four-four, four-four-four, four-four-one,
Bent their players o’er a barrel,
Four-four-four-four-four, four-four-four-one…
   
I had thought about filling this entire column with festive ditties basking in our derby win.  But it’s now a week and a half since that glorious afternoon, and as Paul Lambert told [...]

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Admittedly, the general level of unhappiness within football is exaggerated by the way the word ‘disappointed’ is used by people within the game to soften their opinions and escape censure from the authorities – a bit like the use of ‘allegedly’ on Have I Got News For You to cover legally contentious statements.

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Perhaps the truth is that I’ve now reached the point in life where there’s more past than there is future. And the past is where much of the best stuff lies. Like playing Sunday football. My career is certainly into the pantomime phase now. (“Where’s my regular salary, boys and girls?” Audience: “Behind you!”)

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‘The attendance at Portman Road is 25,000, including 2,500 visiting Norwich supporters. What percentage of the crowd is guaranteed to feel happy on the way home?’ (Answer: 10%. Even if City haven’t won, we always go away pleased that we don’t live there.)

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With admittedly poor timing, we’re going on holiday on Friday; instead of walking down Rouen Road to the ground in the evening, I’m going to be in a hotel near Rouen trying to keep up with what’s going on. But the main reason for my lack of enthusiasm is that my appetite for football has been dulled (only temporarily, I hope) by the World Cup.

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The magnitude of what City have achieved over the last nine months is truly extraordinary. First, there’s the simple fact that we’ve gone straight back up automatically. It happens a lot less often than you’d think – and I know, because I’ve checked.

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