I’d never seen Villa at Wembley.

Even the thought of it made me shiver with excitement. Just like a kid, I was, the night before; couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, dreaming of the winning goal in injury time. Just like Xmas Eve when I was five, waiting for Santa, and the promise of my first ever claret and blue Villa kit. Santa would come, I’d wear the kit with pride, and Christmas Day would be like no other.

The morning of the Final finally came, and I pulled on my brand new long sleeved kit, my Carling Cup hat and scarf, and bounced into Leeds Station full of pride, smiling at everyone I saw. Villa at Wembley, and I was actually going!!! And I didn’t even care when two Geordie Mancs sat opposite me and my brother on the train - they were decent guys, and we had a laugh.
“Hope you have a horrendous day”, they joked as we rolled into Kings Cross. But we won’t, I thought, we won’t - this has to be our day. I’d read glowing reports in the Sunday papers about Villa’s pace and skill, a brilliant article about James Milner, and even forecasts that Sir Alex was resting Rooney. ‘Utd are there for the taking’ said the pundits.

London teemed with claret and blue and green and yellow. “Are you Norwich in disguise?” came the song. But they didn’t care. They looked quietly confident. I got more nervous. “Let’s find this Perseverance pub” I said to my brother. It was nearly lunchtime, and I needed a drink to calm my Christmas Day nerves. Santa was on his way, there was no doubt, and he would deliver in almost exactly five hours, or maybe six if extra time was needed. I was imagining the Cup held high already.

The Perseverance was the designated pub venue for Yorkshire Lions members, and other Lions club members who wanted a Villa only pub before the match. It sold wonderful London Pride beer  and we met guys there who’d just been names on the website, and before long there was singing and banter…the excitement was building, and even the rain had stopped. Now for the 1.44 Wembley express from Marylebone station.

The Wembley train was amazing. Loaded with singing claret and blue and one brave and vociferous yellow and green fan: the banter was brilliant. This guy took everything the Villa fans threw at him, and he still came out on top in the singing battle. Not an omen, surely? I shuddered silently, and dismissed this horrendous thought. It had to be our day. The noise outside the stadium was all Villa, and the colours inside were a blaze of claret and blue flags, hats, and scarves. The fans were in great voice. They - me - had waited a long, long time for this. We could not be disappointed.

And when we kicked off  the noise and anticipation just escalated, and Villa played like they were facing the Holte End instead of 30,000 Utd supporters. We were not daunted in the least. We were fast and fluid and up for it in no uncertain way, and, yes, God yes, after only four minutes it’s a penalty!!! Gabby was on fire and Vidic could not cope. 10 men, surely, just like 1957 but without the shoulder charge. They can’t accuse us of brawn now though can they? This was pace and artistry, and Villa were in the ascendancy. Milner steps up and blast the ball into the corner and heaven has arrived! Santa’s come, he has, and it is going to be Christmas Day and the best present of all, a trophy, is going to come our way. Joy, sheer joy!!!

The elation lasted just 12 minutes, 12 wonderful minutes to treasure.

I can’t quite convey how down I felt when we lost. It was like someone had just told you Santa didn’t exist. And Christmas was all an illusion. We trundled away from the ground, not being able to face the presentations. And as I swallowed three pints of Directors beer in about 10 minutes before the long, long return journey home, I quietly closed my eyes, and dreamed those 12 minutes once more. But this time I didn’t want to wake.

But Santa does exist, doesn’t he? And Villa will win the FA Cup won’t they? OK - Christmas is just on hold. Until May. Promise?