By Laurence I'Anson
December 31 2004

It's 31st December and for our very final article of 2004, we decided to revisit the greatest day of the year and take you back to those jubilant scenes of February 29th in Cardiff. The day that we won the cup. 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:





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