Now why is a defeat over Sheffield United always such a joy? Stan shouldn't enjoy the experience so much but he just does.
It's not as though they are Wolves or Ipswich, there's no real 'history' there, but for whatever reason it's a date on Stan's calendar that is awaited with a little extra zeal.
Maybe it's Stan's dislike for Warnock that sowed this seed and then nurtured and grew it. Or maybe it's the disquiet still felt for an unprovoked pub attack on one of Stan's mates in the Steel City a decade or so back by some friendly Blades? Then again, maybe it's just Sean bl**dy Bean!
It's probably all of the above with a dash of Robbo baiting that made Saturday afternoon such an utter joy. And lest we forget this result did achieve the small matter of extracting us from the bottom three of this Championship.
A feat that in Stan's wildest dreams didn't imagine would be possible until March, indeed if it was at all.
Poor old Robbo must really hate his visits to Carrow Road. If Stan is hand-on-heart honest Bryan doesn't really get the rub of the green when he comes our way. Who can forget that delicious victory over the Baggies during the Premiership season? 3-2, and with a flying pie to boot!
Therefore the sight of Captain Merlot? sorry Marvel, charging, celebratory, from the dug-out with the entire Blades bench had Stan's stomach in his boots; a dejection cut short by the joyous realisation that the linesman's flag was raised high and handsome, like a matadors cape to the charging red and white bedecked bulls!
Oh how Stan and the boys laughed! Oh, for a close up shot of Robbo's face when he realised!
Now don't get Stan wrong, this wasn't an undeserved victory in the Baggies game mould, but we did ride our luck second-half. What we also did, however, was defend like our lives depended on it.
The first half was a joy to watch, the second was just an old fashion footballing scrap, that ebbed and flowed with each mis-placed pass.
Sheffield's midfield numerical supremacy was countered initially by a combination of phenomenal work-rate and speed of movement; as legs grew heavy Sheffield muscled their way in, their cause helped in no small part by a swirling wind and torrential rain.
For those out there that tutted every time a ball was headed straight back into the danger area by a yellow shirt, just try heading a ball that is dropping from 50-feet, in the rain, in a 30 mile-per-hour wind, whilst squinting into floodlights with someone stood next to you pulling your shirt or nudging you in the back!
Considering the pressure of the situation and the conditions the back four did superbly. As did every player on the pitch.
Quite how Roeder has managed to get us to this point in the six or so short weeks since his arrival is quite incredible. It's worth ten articles on its own, and everyone will have their own take on it.
In Stan's humble opinion it's been the easy grace with which our Glenn has gone about his business that has stood out. No wasted word or deed, no over elaboration just quiet studied professionalism. Problems spotted and resolved, in a timescale that would have been way beyond so many.
Just watching Evans, Taylor and Patterson go to work was case proved. Quality additions seamlessly added to a vastly improved rump of a team. Roeder has made decisions, both bold and subtle and each one has been carried out with a quiet authority, and confidence. Each one bourn out with results.
After the game Roeder reiterated his assertion that his joy comes from the happiness he gives back to people with footballing success. It's wonderful egalitarian philosophy, and one that seems to be bringing all and sundry together under the Canaries banner once more.
If this really is Glenn's raison d'etre, he's living it to the letter. The mood in every City pub and City supporting household has been lifted since his arrival. As it stands we owe him? big time.
What now lays ahead no one really knows, but for now Stan's just happy to be able to look at the table again without bursting into tears.
For this alone, God bless you Glenn!