About to board the coach and already, City fans need no encouragement to give the boys a cheer. DA4334P17Tanya Tilbury was with the excited Salisbury supporters all the way
THE RAYMOND McEnhill Stadium was shrouded in darkness on Sunday as more than 800 fans gathered for the trip north for the club's historic FA Cup First Round tie with Sheffield Wednesday.
There were flashes of "city white" in the early morning gloom and the air was damp and heavy with anticipation.
A last-minute scramble for souvenir scarves added to the nervous tension.
"It's like Christmas," someone shouted, it was, all-encompassing excitement - and still only 7am.
Sixteen coaches arrived and we piled on, hats, flags, scarves and all, and by 7.30am our convoy had left Old Sarum for Hillsborough.
Salisbury City playing Sheffield Wednesday, surely someone would wake us soon?
"Good luck City" balloons in red, white and black, were inflated and batted about the coach while the rugby commentary on the radio was another welcome distraction.
Fans waved to each other as the coaches slipped back and forth along the road, jostling for position and cars adorned with flags passed, tooting their horns.
It seemed like the whole of Salisbury was on the road.
Even the cows along the route, in their black and white livery, showed support - everywhere you looked, read City.
The service station stop at 10.30am was home from home, our focus had shifted to the rugby, as we lined up to watch Wales getting the better of England.
At 12.30, the convoy pulled into a lay-by on the outskirts of Sheffield and waited for a police escort to the ground.
We made our way towards the famous ground, the traffic stopping for us, as we sailed through red lights.
The football talk started and suddenly the view ahead was one of Salisbury City fans streaming into the ground, a magical sight.
From the stand, the ground looked huge and the players were already out on the pitch running through warm-up routines.
One minute's silence was held - it was Remembrance Sunday - but also a poignant reminder of the 96 people who lost their lives in the Hillsborough tragedy of 1989.
Then, it was game on.
"Come on City" roared out from the packed away stand, as the red shirts sparkled below, looking very useful.
Every touch from Salisbury brought our crowd to its feet.
We forced a corner in the first five minutes and then a second. The chanting started, "you're supposed to be at home", as we berated the home fans for their seemingly lack of passion for their side.
Salisbury settled, putting Wednesday under pressure. Twenty minutes in, and a shot on goal caused a near frenzy in the West Stand.
Then the Sheffield penalty was given. It was booed and jeered, but it was in.
The camp steadied itself, then chanting began again in earnest and didn't stop until the half-time whistle. One goal adrift at half time, but we were still very happy.
However, immediately in the second half, we were two down. Goals three and four followed, but our support held fast.
It started to rain, but nothing could dampen the fire that now burned in the heart of the Salisbury camp.
It was all over and the players turned to us, a tender moment of recognition. They had done their best and so had we - one team, one city, standing tall, standing proud. A moment to treasure.
"We love you Salisbury, we do, . . . " the chants again.
Walking back to the coach was quieter, wetter and darker, the inevitable low after such a mighty high.
The journey home to Wiltshire was restful and filled with a sense of satisfaction of a job well done.
"We didn't want to go to Scunthorpe anyway," said one.
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