Gordon Barnet! What a funny old game that was…
In fact, it was so peculiar that Stan has just spent the last hour musing over what on earth were the contents of the half-time team talk. What in Iwan's name went on in the dressing room that can explain the proceedings?
Stan can only imagine that the obviously buoyed up and joyous players arrived at the changing rooms to be met by a furious looking Wee Peter and Big Bald Jim.
'Who the hell do you lot think you are? Braz-bloody-il? We didn't send you out there to play cutting, insightful football and keep a clean sheet. Remember who you are. You're Norwich City you bunch of clowns; now get your sorry arses out there again and show everyone what we're all about…'
Has anyone else got a better suggestion as to why City went from Madrid to Mulbarton in a 15 interval minutes that were supposed to involve nothing more sinister than some slices of orange and a bit of deep heat? It's the best Stan can come up with anyway.
As the second-half drifted incompetently along the joyous memories of the first-half faded as rapidly as the career of Lee Sharpe.
It was like dreaming nostalgically back to long forgotten days of swapsies in the playground and Norwich City sweat-bands. Memories of Cureton braces and Lappin thumpers gained sepia-tinted edges and Stan ultimately ambled from the ground feeling as though we'd lost.
It is almost impossible to know whether to start with the positives or go wailing into the negatives that reared their ugly heads the moment the second-half whistle blew, because this really was the ultimate game of two halves.
The evening had started with a slight feeling of disappointment as The Judge failed to so much as take to the bench. Combined with Hucks' and Smith's absence this left precious little to set the pulse racing?. A difficult enough task in a Carling Cup game anyway!
However, what followed, for 45 minutes at least, was a joy to behold. Over-lapping full-backs, clever movement off the ball, clinical finishing, solid defensive play, lots of smiling? It was far too good to last.
For every uplifting piece of play in the first-half – and there genuinely were plenty – there were as many problems emerging in the second. The midfield ran out of puff and Fozzy in particular disappeared, which allowed Barnet – yes, that's right Barnet – to boss the game.
Once Brown, who despite not getting on the score-sheet, was a real nuisance for all the time he was on the field disappeared, City's ability to retain possession disappeared with him.
Grant so desperately wants us to play higher up the pitch, but if the forward line don't have the stature or ability to hold the ball up, and this is compounded by a flagging midfield, we simply can't.
There was another issue that emerged second-half that Stan has a bit of a problem with and that is the continued lack of a leader. Ok, Pete has nailed his colours to Shacks' mast, but this doesn't disguise the fact that in Dion's absence the team lacks a natural captain.
For about ten minutes prior to Barnet's first the writing was on the wall. The team needed a player to spot this and start kicking some green backsides in the way that Malky, Flem, Bruce et al used to. Instead the game drifted on and Barnet capitalised.
Had we not been quite so ruthless in the first-half there would have been enough egg on collective City faces to feed the 5,000.
Don't get Stan wrong here, he's fully aware that sticking five past anyone and making the next round of the, oh so prestigious Carling Cup is a job very well done. But he can't help feeling that for all that the first-half showed us, somehow the second-half showed us more…