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leicsmac

Morning Is Here.

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...Right.

I'm a Leicester fan in my early 30's...so, just like many others older and younger than me, following the club has had plenty of ups and downs. And, most likely, more of the latter than the former.

I'm just about old enough to remember the playoff final glut of the 90's. I have vague memories of both Speedie's dive and the heartbreaking late penalty that cost us promotion to the Premier League on two successive occasions. Thankfully, my memory of Walshie's winner and us finally getting it right at the third attempt is rather clearer.

Of course, it all went wrong the following season, but that merely set the stage for the O'Neill era - up until now the most successful time in our recent history. Getting promoted via the Steve Claridge method, followed by two trophies, two jaunts into Europe (that sadly didn't last long) and multiple top ten finishes. And I, and those around me as I went through my teenage years, thought that we could genuinely become a semi-permanent fixture in the Premier League, at least challenging for a trophy or two on a regular basis.

And then O'Neill left, and shortly thereafter the club entered quite possibly the darkest time in its history. Certainly the worst in the memories of those my age and younger. The fall was so drastic, so vast. The legitimate threat to the clubs existence. A transfer embargo for the better part of a season. Players playing for free.

Of course, it wasn't long before the shoots of recovery began to show, but as the club passed through a succession of managers - Worthington, Megson, Bassett - with next to zero ambition, it seemed that our club was destined to drift in the lower echelons of the second division for a long time.

Up until that one dreadful day at Stoke.

Painful. Embarassing. Humiliating. Words that can't exactly describe the tight, hot, miserable feeling coiling in your stomach as the final whistle went that day. No language would be enough to describe it. It wasn't the deep, dark threatening times of administration, but it cut deeper somehow. Never before had out club set food in the third tier of English football. One of only nine clubs to hold that distinction...until over a hundred years of history were concluded in the space of 90 terrible minutes.

But, from out of that low we came back yet again.

Nigel Pearson took the helm, and with him in charge we came back up at the first time of asking.

And yet there was still more heartbreak on the horizon. Two playoff semifinals - one cruelly denied through a terrible penalty shootout, the other robbed by a combination of circumstances even Machiavelli would find difficult to engineer, kept us in the second tier.

Kept us wondering if this long, dark time would ever end. If the faith and hope that the fans like me and those who frequent this board would ever be truly rewarded.

Yes...certainly in my living memory, the downs have outnumbered the ups.

But..

After all that time, all that long night, all that pain and heartbreak, all that time idly dreaming that the club you followed and adored could be...something more...

This season, this year, is going to be the year where the faith, the support through all of those dark times will finally meet with its reward. A time when all of that agony and ennui will be forgotten. The times that you thought about as a kid, thinking that one day they could scale the highest heights in your imagination...this season, this time, that fantasy will finally come to pass.

In all my time of following Leicester City, I could only have dreamed of what is now unfolding. But the dream is real.

All that time waiting, dreaming through that long night of so many years...is finally, finally over.

Because morning is here. And it's Blue and White.

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"Morning Has Broken"
 

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Leicester  saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

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"Morning Has Broken"

 

Morning has broken, like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning

Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven

Like the first dewfall, on the first grass

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden

Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning

Born of the one light, Leicester  saw play

Praise with elation, praise every morning

God's recreation of the new day

 

 

ahh school assembly

Amen to that

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...Right.

I'm a Leicester fan in my early 30's...so, just like many others older and younger than me, following the club has had plenty of ups and downs. And, most likely, more of the latter than the former.

I'm just about old enough to remember the playoff final glut of the 90's. I have vague memories of both Speedie's dive and the heartbreaking late penalty that cost us promotion to the Premier League on two successive occasions. Thankfully, my memory of Walshie's winner and us finally getting it right at the third attempt is rather clearer.

Of course, it all went wrong the following season, but that merely set the stage for the O'Neill era - up until now the most successful time in our recent history. Getting promoted via the Steve Claridge method, followed by two trophies, two jaunts into Europe (that sadly didn't last long) and multiple top ten finishes. And I, and those around me as I went through my teenage years, thought that we could genuinely become a semi-permanent fixture in the Premier League, at least challenging for a trophy or two on a regular basis.

And then O'Neill left, and shortly thereafter the club entered quite possibly the darkest time in its history. Certainly the worst in the memories of those my age and younger. The fall was so drastic, so vast. The legitimate threat to the clubs existence. A transfer embargo for the better part of a season. Players playing for free.

Of course, it wasn't long before the shoots of recovery began to show, but as the club passed through a succession of managers - Worthington, Megson, Bassett - with next to zero ambition, it seemed that our club was destined to drift in the lower echelons of the second division for a long time.

Up until that one dreadful day at Stoke.

Painful. Embarassing. Humiliating. Words that can't exactly describe the tight, hot, miserable feeling coiling in your stomach as the final whistle went that day. No language would be enough to describe it. It wasn't the deep, dark threatening times of administration, but it cut deeper somehow. Never before had out club set food in the third tier of English football. One of only nine clubs to hold that distinction...until over a hundred years of history were concluded in the space of 90 terrible minutes.

But, from out of that low we came back yet again.

Nigel Pearson took the helm, and with him in charge we came back up at the first time of asking.

And yet there was still more heartbreak on the horizon. Two playoff semifinals - one cruelly denied through a terrible penalty shootout, the other robbed by a combination of circumstances even Machiavelli would find difficult to engineer, kept us in the second tier.

Kept us wondering if this long, dark time would ever end. If the faith and hope that the fans like me and those who frequent this board would ever be truly rewarded.

Yes...certainly in my living memory, the downs have outnumbered the ups.

But..

After all that time, all that long night, all that pain and heartbreak, all that time idly dreaming that the club you followed and adored could be...something more...

This season, this year, is going to be the year where the faith, the support through all of those dark times will finally meet with its reward. A time when all of that agony and ennui will be forgotten. The times that you thought about as a kid, thinking that one day they could scale the highest heights in your imagination...this season, this time, that fantasy will finally come to pass.

In all my time of following Leicester City, I could only have dreamed of what is now unfolding. But the dream is real.

All that time waiting, dreaming through that long night of so many years...is finally, finally over.

Because morning is here. And it's Blue and White.

 

And it was quite wet too when I took the dogs out.

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