Simmering tension sprinkled with wrought anxiety, the FA Cup semi-final, a genuinely do or die day against our arrogant and patronising neighbours from just outside Manchester. No Hernandez or Giggs on the team sheet. We're going to win this. Quiet first half hour, Berbatov misses 2 sitters, Barry's near miss puts a stake in the game, the tide turns. Carrick to Yaya, he powers on and slots it. Scholes' red, Zabba's thigh. We're going to win this. Final whistle, Balotelli's very existence causes mayhem, half the stadium evacuates faster than health & safety executives dreamt possible.Despite what the records will show, this was they day 35 trophy-less years ended. Because there's an inevitability that City will have to beat our nervous neighbours on our way to each and every one of our inuagural trophies, whether that's the Premiership or the Champions League, this year or next. It is written in the desert sand, it's the only way to do it, it's the only way every long term City fan will get true payback for undying and gut wrenching support.
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