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This is for all the times you've said No, not ever again only to repent when you feel that gut August feeling you've never felt before, that this year, yes this year, is going to be our year and for all us dreaming on, dreamers who know the colour of disappointment is the colour of the Blues, and the colour of the Blues is the colour of the bridesmaid (the one found hanging from the end of a scarf up in the heavens in the rafters of the Kop) but still keep right on to the end of a serviceable number by Harry Lauder in the hope that something profound, like we've put more goals in the back of the sack than them, is lying there.

and for all the afters of Fulham, Watford, Barnsley when you've stared into the floodlights' glare trying to find some positive up in continuing to carry a torch for the always let-you-downs.

But let's all get tattoos ironed on to celebrate the what we are that makes us what we are not and raise our bovrils high for all the games our eyes still cannot believe, like that Boxing Day where way-out fantasy became much real fact and we Three-Nil'd the Villa, and nobody ever doubted Santa was a Bluenose after that.

and let's hear a massive huge "Good on yer Blue!"

for those who have traversed all the words and contours of this earth but still leave an ear open to the faint transmission roar of the pride of Small Heath and for all those Quarter-to-fives when great crowds excited have mass choired those boys who have done us proud and have led our hearts into believing that we are numero uno, yes, top of the pile.

But mostly this is for a future we have all seen without eyes of skipper running around the track with cup aloft, open top buses, civic reception, mucho car door slamming on the streets of Small Heath and the taste of joy that will taste sweeter after all of the suffered sorrows.
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Title Annotation:Features
Publication:Sunday Mercury (Birmingham, England)
Date:Mar 4, 2007
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