I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that we have been waiting generations for an occasion like yesterday. Forget Crewe, forget the Checkatrade, forget Man United away, forget Stoke: the semi-final playoff of an actual professional football league – yes we had to look down pretty far to find our level – is certainly the peak of my Coventry-watching experience.
It goes without saying then that I decided to add an emotional hand grenade to the metaphorical box of fireworks by showing up on one hour's sleep and accompanied by a maelstrom of churning regret, the sludge of which was coursing through my veins during the painfully long build-up to this Saturday evening kick off.
“Anything less than 25k will be a disappointment,” said Wednesday’s version of me. Logic: if 15k people will show up for a fixed game against seaside nobodies, then at least 10k more will show up for a game of monumental proportions that will 100% be 66% better. More fool me.