27th February, 2011. Wembley Stadium, London.
"Only about twenty minutes away now." The bus driver leant back to look at me and the excitement built up inside me for probably the eleventh time today.
"Cheers." I said back to him, the nerve was noticable in my voice. But I didn't care, I looked back down at the open briefcase open on the table in front me and used my unbrushed teeth to remove the lid of my biro. And I got back to work.
"Cheers." I said back to him, the nerve was noticable in my voice. But I didn't care, I looked back down at the open briefcase open on the table in front me and used my unbrushed teeth to remove the lid of my biro. And I got back to work.
As we edged through the narrow, grubby streets of London. The nervous sensation built up again as we edged ever closer to the mammoth that is, New Wembley Stadium. I was told the stadium would be packed today and that 40,000 St. George FC fans would be packed into the stadium. I'd only ever heard a maximum of 17,000 in one place before, so this was going to be some spectacle.
There was only one injury worry, and it was our captain; Jack Rodwell. But it wasn't a real worry to me, as our resident Scotsman Bradden Inman could fill in that role with ease. Of course, the defensive resillience from Rodwell is an area of our game that we sourly miss when he's away, but c'est la vie.
As the bus ground to a halt, I stopped the lads from leaving. I'd decided to not tell them the team until today, and now was the moment.
"Alex Smithies. Michael Mancienne. Chris Smalling (captain). Lee Wilcox. Ryan Bertrand. Bradden Inman. Fabian Delph. Jordan Henderson. Victor Moses. Tom Cleverley. Nile Ranger. You know where you play; good luck lads."
"Alex Smithies. Michael Mancienne. Chris Smalling (captain). Lee Wilcox. Ryan Bertrand. Bradden Inman. Fabian Delph. Jordan Henderson. Victor Moses. Tom Cleverley. Nile Ranger. You know where you play; good luck lads."
The team talk went off without a hitch and that deathening, shrill bell rang for five seconds. The lads knew what it meant, and they sprang to their feet; jumping and shouting. It was a brilliant side, and my side were about to head onto the pitch, at Wembley, for a piece of major silverware.
The boys were led out by today's captain, Chris Smalling. The two teams lined up, and the national anthem was sang by Eliza Terrence, and hand on heart, for the thirteenth time today, the nervous sensation shot up my spine. "Oh ****, unlucky thirteen." I thought to myself. But now wasn't the time for superstions.
My heart was in my mouth by the fifth minute. As Emile Heskey flicked on from a Stylian Petrov long-ball, James Vaughan was on the end of it. It was him and Alex Smithies, 1-on-1 but it was a beautifully placed shot and Alex had no chance. We were 1-0 down already, great. But then I was saved for by the whistle, and for the first time in my life, I was actually grateful towards an official.
The game up until the 31st minute was Stylian Petrov dominance. I was in awe of his ability. We had come up against Fabregas, Modric, Arshavin, but they didn't seem to compare to the Bulgarian. He was everywhere, and nearly scored; thrice.
31 minutes and 16 seconds in, Victor Moses thred a perfect through ball to our goalhound, none other than former Newcastle hitman, Nile Ranger. He made his way around Irish International Richard Dunne, and found himself in a 1-on-1 with Brad Friedel. Cool as a cat, he lifted it over the veteran American, and celebrated with a one-handed point that Alan Shearer would be proud of.
Bradden Inman had alot of pressure on him. Jack Rodwell's shoes are big ones to fill, and he obliged in the 45th minute when he found Tom Cleverley with an inch-perfect 70-yard box-to-box pass from the young Scot. Cleverley controlled it with his chest, took it round young Curtis Davies and slashed it into the corner. As I punched the air, the crowd erupted, and the "Cleverley" chant could be heard from all corners of London.
The half time talk was relatively easy, and for the second time today, that shrill bell shreaked through the dressing rooms, and the lads jumped up. I could see a few mixed emotions, happiness, courage, joy, and then I looked over to Jack Rodwell and Jordan Spence and I saw completely the opposite. I held them back afterwards and made sure they knew they would be playing. And I told my captain that he would be lifting the cup today, when we win. A smile erupted onto his face and the next few minutes flew by.
After 58 minutes at Wembley, Steve Sidwell was commanded to play the through ball by his striker James Vaughan, and he obliged. Mr. Vaughan held up to his side of the bargain by sticking the ball in the net for the second time in 60 minutes, but Villa were still 2-1 down. They had work to do.
And it wasn't until the 84th minute there was any action. And that action was simply a double substitute as Jordan Spence and Jack Rodwell made their way onto the pitch. Lee Willcox and Bradden Inman were the unlucky couple as I gave them a small handshake for their troubles.
And there was no more trouble for us, Jack Rodwell sat in front of the defense, and controlled the game from then on in. The final whistle blew, and the sudden realisation sunk in. We were League Cup Champions. We were going into Europe. We had won!
Jack Rodwell made his way up the long staircase followed closely by his team, passing the St. George fans. Aston Villa had already made their way up and collected their silver medals. And Jack had one look at the trophy, gave it a kiss, and raised it above his head. The crowd cheered, the players celebrated, and I clapped.
As the boys headed back to the bus, I did a quick head count and we only had seventeen out of eighteen. It was my responsibility, so I headed back for Nathan Delfounso. I journeyed back into our changing room and heard some noise in the shower area. I went in and Nathan Delsfounso was lay on the floor, limp.
I looked around, and saw a foreign looking man, in a very dark navy suit. He looked up at me and as I had instinctively made my way towards Nathan, he blocked my way to the door. He said, "This is only the beginning" and then walked away.
great result mate really is 
