The love I once had for my football club is all but dead. 4 and a half years since I last attended a game, and the slide into oblivion continues apace. I'm by no means alone in my thoughts, as thousands of others have turned their collective backs on the ongoing shambles. Yet the fact we're a Championship club means that we're falling from a fairly lofty position, and there's no denying that the journey the club has undertaken in the last 20 years has produced some very notable highlights, but what took place one Saturday evening in North London a decade ago today still has even the most embittered, battle hardened Hull City fan chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.
We went to the Emirates Stadium off the back of a reasonable start to our Premier League life, save a bizarre 0-5 dicking at home to Wigan, but being the upstarts we were, it was surely a case of going there and not disgracing ourselves, yeah? Well no one told Phil Brown that. He picked a team and set it up to have a go, not bang 10 men behind the ball and lose miserably. When we reached half time all square many of us saw that as a major achievement, and then immediately thought 'ah, well' when Paul McShane unfortunately put through his own goal not long after half time.
None of us, no one, was prepared for what happened next.
The Geovanni goal will be shown over and over again for years and years, we knew he had it in his locker from his goal on the opening day against Fulham, but his goal that night was so stunning, so amazing in its execution all I could do watching it at my sisters house on Setanta (ha!) was scream very loudly, and we still hadn't fully taken in what we'd witnessed when Daniel Cousin, a man whose spell at the club was hardly covered with glory, headed home what turned out to be an improbable winning goal. Of course, Arsenal threw the kitchen sink at us, but some resolute defending and a couple of decent saves from Bo Myhill saw us come away with the most unreal, batshit insane 3 points in the club's history.
After this result, City would actually, briefly top the table after a 3-0 win at West Brom. Scaring the life out of Liverpool and Manchester United on their home patches, beating Spurs and West Ham, heady days indeed. Of course, it would come to a shuddering halt as we slid alarmingly down the table after Christmas and only stayed up because Newcastle couldn't grab one of the several lifebelts thrown at them. But for one September night, anything felt possible.
We went to the Emirates Stadium off the back of a reasonable start to our Premier League life, save a bizarre 0-5 dicking at home to Wigan, but being the upstarts we were, it was surely a case of going there and not disgracing ourselves, yeah? Well no one told Phil Brown that. He picked a team and set it up to have a go, not bang 10 men behind the ball and lose miserably. When we reached half time all square many of us saw that as a major achievement, and then immediately thought 'ah, well' when Paul McShane unfortunately put through his own goal not long after half time.
None of us, no one, was prepared for what happened next.
The Geovanni goal will be shown over and over again for years and years, we knew he had it in his locker from his goal on the opening day against Fulham, but his goal that night was so stunning, so amazing in its execution all I could do watching it at my sisters house on Setanta (ha!) was scream very loudly, and we still hadn't fully taken in what we'd witnessed when Daniel Cousin, a man whose spell at the club was hardly covered with glory, headed home what turned out to be an improbable winning goal. Of course, Arsenal threw the kitchen sink at us, but some resolute defending and a couple of decent saves from Bo Myhill saw us come away with the most unreal, batshit insane 3 points in the club's history.
After this result, City would actually, briefly top the table after a 3-0 win at West Brom. Scaring the life out of Liverpool and Manchester United on their home patches, beating Spurs and West Ham, heady days indeed. Of course, it would come to a shuddering halt as we slid alarmingly down the table after Christmas and only stayed up because Newcastle couldn't grab one of the several lifebelts thrown at them. But for one September night, anything felt possible.
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