Well, well, well, the Canary puts the boot into the Cockerel – and on Chanticleer’s splendid new turf too. And via the most unlikely of mediums: a City win in a penalty shoot-out. Now, this might have happened before but if it has I genuinely cannot remember it.
I recall our relatively recent loss to Chelsea at Stamford Bridge and I will never, ever erase that day at Cardiff all those years ago from my memory. Iwan scored the first and then it all collapsed into predictable disaster as Birmingham entered the Promised Land. For a little while, anyway.
If any MFW reader can remember us winning a penalty shoot-out previously, please let me know.
The match itself attracted its fair share of anomalies.
People in Norwich were moaning about drop-outs and buffering on the BBC iPlayer. No probs for me – I used the red button and all was good. Cheers Dave B(2)!
Meanwhile, some 120 miles away, 9,000 Canaries in the 58,000 crowd were doing exactly what Daniel Farke and particularly Ben Godfrey had asked for. Getting and staying right behind the team.
There was the sight of Eric Dier in the crowd arguing with supposed Spurs supporters who had allegedly abused his younger brother.
There was the sound of the sourpuss that can be Jose defending Dier to the hilt but I’m actually in agreement with him on this topic.
Mourinho said: “I think Eric Dier did something that we professionals cannot do but in these circumstances every one of us would do.
“Because when somebody insults you and your family is there and you get involved with the person that is insulting you, in this case a younger brother, I think Eric did what we professionals cannot do.”
He added that the prawn sandwich brigade might have been responsible as that area of the ground tends to be a temporary home to corporate freebie types. Well said Jose, I’m with you on that one, amigo.
And then there was that spine-tingling footage of our supporters trembling for what seems like ages until Daniel Farke completed the salutations at the final whistle. Not a Tottenham player was left on the pitch at that stage.
Add in the ludicrous concept of the quarter-final draw being made during extra time and we were treated to a somewhat surreal evening.
There’s not much point in me picking over the bones of the match itself as Gary G did that earlier, but I will make a few observations.
That “own box” exchange between Tom Trybull and an equally rusty Mario Vrancic was not, I repeat not, easy on the eye and my language wasn’t pleasant on observing it. Neither was Mrs P’s and Geezer the Patterdale terrier howled in disbelief [well it might have been because I inadvertently tugged his ear].
Josip Drmic’s instinct is something else. I’ve read a couple of match reports that suggested he bundled the ball over the line when Michel Vorm stuffed up Kenny McLean’s long-ranger. I think it was a very incisive reaction rather than a “bundle”.
Adam Idah is cooler than Arthur Fonzarelli. Pressure? No, I’ll calmly place it in the top corner so Vorm has no chance. How old am I?
And to quote our own Gary G from this very morning: “Tim Krul’s plastic drinks bottle will eventually find a place in the Castle Museum, but it was accompanied by a swagger and the type of mind control normally associated with Derren Brown.”
Who needs the Enigma code?
I don’t generally have much time for the Rams but I’ll be willing on Wayne Rooney’s Derby County (TM) tonight.
As I’m sure we all do I tend to get quite a few post-match messages but the first one in my intray this morning said it all really:
“I trust you are feeling better, maybe even over the moon! What a result, totally deserved”.
That was from Phil C, head honcho at a well-known and respected City sales/lettings agency and a fellow City diehard.
It was accompanied by a quote for property maintenance of course – but hey, what the heck.
We’re in the Quarters for the first time since 1992!
I had the displeasure of going with Mrs P to Anglia Square this morning and while in the checkout at Roys with carrying some electrical cabling Alan the postie who sits behind me was delivering mail to the shop.
He silently crept up behind me, belted me on the back, gave me high fives and we danced around like a couple of kids. Luckily the lady on the till knows us both so didn’t summon security. Although the guard was peeing himself with laughter anyway.
Me and Al have got that Cup spirit – how about you?