When posing the question as to exactly what type of a Norwich team would turn up at Hillsborough on Sunday I ended my preview to this particular match with the line ?…a half-hearted, nothing-to-play-for totally unconvincing and feeble Canaries outfit?or something resembling the A-Team??
We got both.
First half. Magnificent.
Everything and more that you want to see from Norwich, and hopefully so on a regular basis next term.
Passion, intelligence, effective movement, energy, crisp and accurate passing and a considerable threat to the opposition goalmouth every time that City attacked.
For now we'll ignore the seemingly futile exercise of bemoaning the Canaries' abhorrent a lack of a killer instinct in front of goal and their woeful inability to convert genuine goal-scoring chances, purely because it's so old hat these days and will surely be addressed as a priority now that City boss Glenn Roeder begins what is fast proving with this morning's announcement a mass culling of his squad at Carrow Road.
But the manner in which City basically embarrassed the home team in front of their own supporters in that opening half on Sunday was an absolute joy to behold for anyone of a Norfolk persuasion.
With Brian Laws' side seemingly intent on self-destructing and defending in a way that would have shamed many of the supporters who had turned out for their local pub side just a few hours earlier, and allowing the Canaries to sweep clean through them with alarming regularity, City, it seemed, were all set for a romp.
Laws was often seen to be beside himself with anger from the touchline and must have been half-preparing his apologies to the magnificent support the Owls had been afforded for the inevitable thumping that was fast heading his side's way and the likelihood of third division football at Hillsborough next season.
Talk about the A-Team their love of seeing a plan come together, well, this was the Canaries on a mission that would have had Mr. T and his mates beaming from ear to ear.
But then the half-time whistle sounded.
I actually received a text at half-time from a friend of a friend who is a Sheffield Wednesday supporter. It was short, sweet and very succinct.
It read: ?We're f*****, because Norwich are playing like Real Madrid.?
?Not anymore my friend, not anymore.
Because this seemingly invincible, Madrid-impersonating, A-Team had now been substituted? for something more analogous with the Tweenies.
Something or someone had obviously pulled the plug in that away team dressing room at Hillsborough during the half-time break to the extent that from hereon in Norwich were simply unrecognisable from the outfit that had threatened to completely destroy Sheffield Wednesday in the opening 45 minutes.
It was absolutely mind-boggling.
Now it was the home side dictating the pace of the game and cutting through the Norwich defensive ranks at will, and at one stage the crowd actually had the temerity to give it a chorus of ?ole's? as their heroes shifted the ball about the pitch without any significant resistance from Norwich when barely 30 minutes or so earlier they had been chasing their own shadows with their tongues hanging out.
Only with Norwich you might rightly suggest?
When the players eventually returned to the sanctuary of their dressing room after what can only be described as a 4-1 drubbing, the City boss apparently locked the door and for best part of an hour and proceeded to tell the players in no uncertain terms precisely what he thought of that second-half capitulation.
And rightly so.
The send-off and standing ovation afforded to Dion Dublin from all four corners of the ground as he made his exit from the football field for the very last time was fitting and quite unique, but the gloss had undoubtedly been taken off his final day as a professional footballer.
The Big Man, honest and forthright as ever though, had hit the nail on the head earlier in the week when asked about his thoughts on Norwich's season when he said; ?It simply hasn't been good enough.?
Here, here. Nowhere near good enough. Not even remotely approaching anywhere near good enough.
Someone sort it out, please.