Ultra! 6

Dear Dad, I’m sorry that you haven’t heard from me for so long but, really, nothing much has happened that’s been worth writing home about.

Everything’s pretty much how it was last September; I’m still on the dole and in debt to just about every living soul and business in the south-west, she’s still having an affair with that underling from the chippie, and City still haven’t won away from home. Not only that, Pop, but they haven’t won anywhere since November and, in true Herculean fashion, they’re still holding up the rest of the division.

So, why write now? Huh? What’s rattled me cage? Well, sit back, put the kettle on, and light yourself a cigar; but you might feel like champagne, or an apple gallon, by the time you’ve finished.

February, a traditionally mean and merciless month, was no different this year, and will be remembered for the fact that there wasn’t one first team game at Ashton Gate throughout its duration. Consequently, when the month began in Bristol, City fans were out in their droves buying razor blades and throwing themselves under traffic and that, convinced that only the worst could happen and not even giving their own team a chance in any of the following four away fixtures. A lot of bad stuff was said to me about come March and we’ll be on the very bottom and, just one rung down the ladder, a whole year of Doncaster, Darlington and Hull awaited our famous, fiery red shirts. These are scary times, Dad, and people are scared!

Portsmouth, who are still very much in the title race, had only conceded three goals at Fratton Park throughout the entire season and boasted a striker, in Guy Whittingham, who’d already scored thirty-one times on his own – more than the entire City team sellotaped together. Yet Jacki was back and, although he’d only been out for seven games, there were faces in the City line-up he can hardly have recognized as our two new loan signings, Pennyfather and Munro, stepped straight into the first team.

They were soon familiar with a City tradition; the gift of the early goal to the opposition, here accepted by Portsmouth after just eight minutes when Paul Walsh headed home. However, what followed, was truly awe inspiring, Dad, as a Bristol team full of passion, guts and determination came from behind twice before Gavin killed them off with a stunning free-kick that, had he been playing for Milan, would have been broadcast all over the world.

But it was Jacki that started the fight back when, daringly cutting into the box from the left, the defender was too scared of being beaten in the tackle and, one inspired, wickedly clever pass later, the ball was at Shelton’s feet and he rammed it home.

Whittingham inevitably had Pompey back in the lead three minutes after the re-start, but a textbook header from Bryant leveled it before gav sealed the points.

Our problem, of course, is consistency, but if we could achieve

That at this level, in a performance characterized by blood, steel and grit, where we moved the ball around with purpose and no little vision, then we could well be unbeatable. Stop laughing. Honestly, I’m serious, City were outstanding and fully deserved their vote of Barclays league Performance of the Week from a panel chaired by England supreme Graham Taylor. And that’s OFFICIAL!