I can only imagine what my reaction would have been like if I was unable to attend and heard the commentary alone. Amazing.
I roared at the red and white walls of my living room, barely held onto my laptop and danced a little jig of joy as if nobody was watching (and indeed they weren't). My wife had long since vacated the room, sensing the tension in the air and anticipating the dark clouds that would accompany our 'certain' defeat. Gloriously wrong. The cold sweats brought about by the first half technical difficulties, where I was engulfed by a painful radio silence and feverishly refreshing the web page for the match day updates, were long forgotten.
I watched that fantastic Alty TV clip of the goal again and again and again and again (times too numerous to recall) into the early hours of the morning. I marveled, not only at the goal, but at the superb quality of the clip, the masterful, emotion laden tones of Mr Flynn on the mic. Goosebumps with each watch, an ecstatic combination of pride and joy. Nothing compares to actually being there and I so wish I could have been, but this is as good as it gets for an exile. We are truly blessed with a service that would put many in the Football League to shame and for that I am eternally grateful.
My eyes are as red as a baboon's arse today, but I care not as it's just more red and white showing through. I look like I've been on a Billy Big Bong Bender of Cheech & Chong proportions with stupefied grin to boot.
Long live Alty TV, long live RR, may whatever god you cling to shine down on the good ship Alty and all who sail in her.
Thank you and goodnight.