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THE DAY WE WON THE CUP
We'll never forget the greatest day in the club's history and here are some reminders of those jubilant scenes of February 29th 2004 in Cardiff. Please feel free to share your memories of the day that we won the cup.
Written by Laurence I'Anson
It was probably the greatest day of my life. The greatest weekend
of my life. I had waited 16 years for this. We had waited 128 years.
We had won. A major trophy in the bag. But no trophy cabinet- a
problem!!
This greatest weekend actually started with my Mam's birthday party
on Saturday 28th February. It took place at home and lasted until
the late hours that night when I finally got bed at around 11.30pm.
That night I must have woken up four times due to sheer nervousness
and excitement. I woke for the final time at 3.30am after a maximum
four hours sleep, when my brother came in to tell me that he was
ready for the biggest occasion of his life. So I proceeded to get
dressed and collect my bag of belongings which I checked over and
over again.
My dad came at 4.10am and by 4.20am we were on our way down to the
South West. We passed a number of hitchhikers on the way, as well
as even more fellow Boro fans in their minibuses, coaches and cars.
We arrived in Bristol at 8.20am. Yes, just four hours to get to
Bristol! And that includes getting lost in the Midlands somewhere
for twenty minutes as well. The car was parked up in a side street,
then we walked over the road to the hotel and checked in. Our stuff
was put in some lockers behind the desk, then we went outside to
jump into our waiting taxi.
We reached Bristol Meads train station in under five minutes. There
were queues a mile long. We simply picked up our previously bought
tickets from behind the counter and proceeded onto the platform
with hundreds of other Boro fans.
And our luck for the day continued, as the next train came straight
away at 8.35am. We had been in Bristol for fifteen minutes and were
already leaving.
However, this train was full. Full of Boro fans. No opposition to
be seen! Soon enough we were on our to Cardiff. A bit of banter
between fans was the necessary entertainment as it took over an
hour to go across the sea to Wales.
9.40am was the time. Cardiff was the location. 2004 Carling Cup
Final was the event. Boro fans were the atmosphere. I was buzzing.
We met Stu, Ailsa and others and then we moved as a small group
away from the train station for a look around the city in search
for a pub. After looking around for fourty minutes taking in the
sights of Cardiff City centre - not much there really - we found
the perfect pub to drink in. "Borough Arms". But we had to wait
for it to open and we did, for fourty minutes.
During this time, food became top of the agenda and so I walked
up the road for a trip to McDonalds where I bought everyone their
preferred meal. By the time I got back it was 11am and people began
to pour into the pub.
We occupied a large table in the back corner of the pub with no
less than nine of us going up for the round of drinks every twenty
minutes or so to keep the spirits flowing.
The entertaining part of this very long pub talk however, was when
my brother threw a Boro scarf and mis-threw it to swipe five pints
of beer off a ledge and onto the people at the table next to us.
We all thought it was very funny except my brother and Stu. He had
to apologise. Ha, ha, ha!!
The omens kept coming during everyone's conversation, with every
sign that we would finally be successful in a Cup Final for the
first time in the club's 128 year history.
It was also the first time I had got a round of beer in. And I couldn't
have got a better place to do it in the whole World. The Boro' Pub,
in Cardiff, before our first ever cup win in 128 years. Bliss. We
were in paradise. Adrenaline rushed through us all and we were all
up for it like never before.
It was nearing kick-off with every minute that passed and it was
another minute that we missed the pre-match entertainment in the
streets of Cardiff. And so with our arses by this point very sore,
me and my brother decided it was fitting enough to go out onto the
streets and take part in some banter with 30,000 Boro fans.
We had turned two corners from the pub and there before us were
around 15,000 Boro fans taking part in the biggest game of footy
I have ever seen, right in front of the Millennium Stadium. The
aim of all these Boro fans were two tiny windows in the lower and
upper parts of a pub full of Bolton fans. They were breached twice,
if my memory serves me right.
Me and my brother continued to walk around and take in the atmosphere
(game of footy had stopped because the police wouldn't go in the
"Bolton" pub and retrieve the ball for us-the bastards!!). We met
up again with my dad Stu, Ailsa and the others and we progressed
into the stadium surroundings. At this point it was under twenty
minutes to kick-off so we entered the stadium. Up the escalators,
for a first time at a football ground, then through the correct
block and up the right set of stairs to our seat.
When I walked up them stairs it was like heaven for a Boro fan that
day. Awesome. Breath-taking. Inspirational. Our view was perfect.
On the half-way line, three-quarters of the way up the stand. We
had the thousands of Boro fans to our right and some Bolton on the
left. The roof shut out any sunlight and outside noise. The atmosphere
was sensational. It was going to be our day.
The thunderous crowd continued to chant continuously as the game
got underway. Fantasy football had begun.
The scoreboard read: Bolton 0-0 Middlesbrough. The time was 2.02pm.
A long ball up field from right back Danny Mills. Loose header by
Thome, the defender. Picked up by Mendieta. Switched to the unmarked
Zenden. Swift ball across the penalty area to the awaiting Joseph
Job. One touch and GOAL!!!! ONE NIL!!!! Heaven. Ecstasy. We went
bloody mental!!!!
We hadn't even settled down when the ball was played through to
Joseph Job again. This time he was brought down. Could it be a penalty????
PENALTY IT WAS!!!! Zenden to take... Jogs up... Please score...
GOALLLLL!!!! Seventh heaven. Dreamland. Thirty thousand of us were
on cloud nine. Un-bloody-believable!!!! I looked around to see others
celebrating. There were ten year olds jumping up and down, happy
as Larry. There were old men and women who stood with tears in their
eye. Was I dreaming?
The atmosphere was magnificent. "And it's Middlesboro'. Middlesboro
FC. Were the finest team in football, the World has ever seen."
However, there were eleven other players on the pitch and 28,000
other fans in the stands who still had hope. And due to a Schwarzer
howler they were given their moment of glory. But even that didn't
quieten us as we still felt it was to be OUR day. For a change.
They pressured us for the rest of the half and had a number of great
chances and only Schwarzer, who pulled off a number of tremendous
saves, allowed us to go into halftime still ahead.
The second half started and Boro were far the more organised and
composed. We had a clear plan. Counter-attacking football to oppose
Bolton's constant threats. It was end-to-end football.
As a result we had a number of gilt chances to seal the win. In
particular, Juninho played out of his skin and created chances for
Mendieta and Ricketts. But it wasn't to be and we had to wait with
the most nervous tension I have ever known from myself and others
round me.
There was however one final chance for Bolton. They were on the
attack, again. The ball was played into the area and in an instant
Stelios hit a shot that was goal-bound. We thought our luck had
run out. But out of nowhere came big Ugo Ehiogu who literally threw
himself in front of the ball. The ball bounced off him and the danger
was clear. There were appeals for hand ball but the ref wasn't having
any of it. We continued to bite our nails.
The scoreboard read 90 minutes and the time was 3:49pm. There were
four minutes until our first ever trophy. Every single Boro fan
on their feet. Waiting. Waiting for the final whistle.
And we waited for the longest four minutes of injury time in the
history of football. It seemed like four days. A long Schwarzer
kick up field and everybody turned to the referee. The final whistle
blew.
Magical!!!! We had won!!!! I again celebrated with everyone around
me. My brother, my dad, my friends, a woman next to me. It was magical.
I turned to see the family behind me. They were all crying with
joy. It brought tears to my eyes. I felt special. I was one of only
thirty thousand to see our team win a major trophy.
The scoreboard read:
Written by Wayne Cook,
Photos by Wayne Cook
After endless queuing, we finally had the four tickets we needed
for that elusive final. Despite being a regular at nearly all of
the home games, I had never before been lucky enough to purchase
an actual final ticket. I had got one for the Coca Cola final replay
against Leicester and suffered severe depression on the way home,
but here we were with the four we needed for me, the wife and two
sons.
The 28th February arrived and we prepared the car for the long journey
south. Flasks, sandwiches etc... plus sleeping bags for the boys
in the back.
We left Billingham around midnight, making steady progress down
the A19 and onto the motorways, stopping occasionally at the services
for a break and a chat with the other Boro fans doing the same trip.
The excitement was already building at 3.30am as we sat in the Welcome
Services drinking a cup of £1.99 coffee. But for once the price
paled into insignificance as we anticipated what was to follow that
day.
At around 5.30am we stopped again, this time to try and grab an
hour or so sleep, but even as we turned off the engine, we were
joined by a minibus load of Boro fans who proceeded to fill the
night air with Boro chants.
Around 6.30 we finally arrived in Cardiff and found a parking spot
within a few hundred yards of the Millennium Stadium and decided
to have a wander around the city centre.
We quickly found the magnificent stadium and gazed up with pride
at the huge banner of Steve McClaren hanging from the supports.
Like everyone else, we took photographs of us all in front of it.
Hunger then took over and we wandered around looking for somewhere
to eat on a chilly but dry Sunday morning. As luck would have it,
the mighty Macs was open and we tucked into a banquet of bacon and
egg sarnies. Two solitary Bolton fans sat in a restaurant filled
with Boro fans and it was still only 7am.
After breakfast we once more wandered round the city, passing what
appeared to be coachloads of Boro supporters. But where were the
opposition fans? could they not find their way to one of, if not,
the Major cities of Wales?
The castle walls that whirled their way around the city gave a sense
of Grandeur to the occasion and as we took in its sights, we spotted
the market traders beginning their day's work selling memorabilia.
the fans filled their coffers, buying scarves and hats.
Around 9am the centre was slowly turning into what looked like the
Cleveland Centre as wall to wall Boro fans continued to pile into
the area. The Gatekeeper pub, which stood just thirty yards from
the stadium was the home of BBC Radio Cleveland and acted like a
beacon for the Red and White Army converging on the enemy. As the
bar opened the atmosphere began to increase as fans roared songs
from all areas and outside, thousands gathered.
At midday, the colours blazed around the stadium as Red and White
flags, Boro Shirts, hats, everything you could think of in Boro
colours made it a carnival of sound and vision. Horns blared, fans
sang, cars struggled to pick their way through the massive throngs.
As we waited patiently, TV Pundit Ron Atkinson made his way up the
bank to the entrance so we stopped him and had our photos taken
with him to add to the occasion.
We made our way to the front of the stadium, preparing for its opening,
and were surprised to find ourselves first in the queue. We couldn't
believe it, we were going to be the first Boro fans into the stadium
to see OUR team.
Inside looked pretty much as we expected, but as we made our way
into the seating area, the sight was amazing. A superb venue with
excellent viewing. The roof was closed and remained so for the duration
of the game, allowing the sound to reverberate.
We were sat directly behind the corner flag in row one and had the
most amazing view. The players, suited and booted made their appearance
onto the pitch, and as kick off time grew nearer, the crescendo
of noise rose to levels I had never before witnessed.
2pm, kick off time and the nerves began to tell. Could Boro finally
lay to rest that hoodoo and come home winners? Would we show the
world that Middlesbrough were a team to fear?
The game got underway as Boro fans roared on the side from start
to finish, even the Bolton announcer congratulated the Boro fans
on their singing prior to the game.
Within minutes, the fans were delirious, Zenden on the left had
slipped across a lovely ball to Joseph Job, who stuck out a foot
and popped the ball into the back of the net. 1-0. The game had
only just begun and Middlesbrough were actually in front. Roars
of "One Job On Teesside" echoed around the stadium.
We were on our way, this was it, we could sense it. Again Job on
the edge of the box receives the ball, turns into the box, out comes
a leg, must be a penalty! IT IS, we can't believe it- seven minutes
on the clock, we already have a goal, but here is a chance to double
our lead. I can't bear to look as Zenden steps back... I decide
to watch on the giant screen, he runs up, slips but hits the ball
onto the Bolton keepers legs, but its gone in. 2-0 and Bolton heads
are falling, today is our day. Surely?
As usual we kick ourselves in the foot. Kevin Davies is in an impossible
position, and lets go with a tester for Schwarzer. OH NO, Schwarz
has only gone and thrown it in... Bolton are suddenly back in the
game. Give the lad credit- he pulled out some truly world class
stops to keep us in it, and at half time, nails were already bitten
to the bone.
The second half really becomes a blur as both teams go end to end
in search of the goals needed. Boro are slowly putting their stamp
on the game and Juno is playing a blinder with Zenden.
The game is coming to its conclusion and we sense that silverware,
when suddenly Stelios lets rip with a shot that looks destined to
break not only the net but Boro hearts too. Almost on cue, you can
sense the sound of the cavalry horn as big Ugo throws himself into
the path of the ball and we watch gratefully as it rebounds to safety.
The board goes up from the fourth official. There are going to be
four minutes of added time. Where did they get that figure from?
No way was there four minutes. We slowly started to rise from our
seats and 30,000 Boro fans urged their team onto victory. As Mike
Riley, the referee blew that final whistle, delirium set in. Boro
were WINNERS, we actually had the bloody trophy we deserved after
128 years. Men, Women and Children danced, sang, cried and hugged
each other.
The Bolton players trudged up the ramp and received their LOSERS
medals amid applause from the Boro fans, but Bolton supporters were
less graceful, streaming out of the stadium as the mighty reds collected
that beautifully crafted piece of tin. The PA system shouted out
the words...
"The winners of the Carling Cup 2004, MIDDLESBROUGH"
Shivers ran down my spine as the players made their way around the
Boro fans, parading the trophy, Status Quo blaring from every speaker,
Zenden, Boateng and Juno all dancing. We left the stadium after
what seemed like an hour, it was probably only half that but the
euphoria carried us out like gladiators in the roman arena.
We made our way through the celebrating fans back to the car to
make our way to the hotel we were staying in at Cardiff. We pulled
into a petrol station and found a Bolton fan and his young son in
there, asking for directions to the same area. They were staying
in a different hotel next door to ours. As it was about five miles,
we offered them a lift. It was a tight squeeze but we managed to
get them in and get them to their hotel. The guy being magnanimous
in defeat, said Boro were the better team and deserved the victory.
We were joining friends that night for a meal and a drink in the
restaurant next door to the hotel but the exertions of the day proved
too much for us all and we finally headed to bed around 10pm.
The return journey was an amazing site as car loads of Boro fans,
proudly flying their flags, like us, where tooting their horns as
they drove past. Its a day that will live forever in my memory and
undoubtedly my family's as one of our greatest occasions. 30000
fans saw Middlesbrough pick up their first cup and we were part
of it. The drive home seemed so quick, but the excitement wasn't
to end there.
As we approached the Kirklevington turn off on the A19, our car
got a puncture. I knew there was a petrol station about a mile up
the slip road, so slowly we trundled our way along. We arrived in
the petrol station to change the tyre and who should pull up, none
other that Jonathon Greening, quickly followed by the manager himself,
Steve McClaren. The boys were too slow to catch Jonno, but Steve
saw the lads had a match program and he generously offered to sign
it for them. The weekend was now complete, the Boro had a trophy,
we had watched it in person and now we had met the manager as well.
I doubt that will ever be matched by us, as a family, ever again.
More Carling Cup Final pictures can be seen in The
Gallery
So much has been said already about the day we won the cup but we
don't want the talking to stop, so if you would like to see your
Cardiff story on ComeOnBoro.com, we will be happy to publish it.
Email us here.
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