If we thought the second half as to be a formality, we were wrong. I don’t think we were terrible after the break, but it just didn’t click. Let’s give credit where it’s due, the opposition had made it tough in the first half, but they made it even tougher in the second. I never thought they’d score, they didn’t look to have anything up front at all, but you could see they were well-drilled.

Things started to go awry when Shay was booked for simulation or, as it should be called, cheating. That’s what a dive is, it’s cheating. In this instance I think the referee was harsh, there wasn’t any need to dive and I don’t think he did. When the ball fell to Harry, had he bagged I don’t think the ref would have blown for the dive, but with us missing it he did. I’ve got to say though I thought the man in the middle was excellent again and that was perhaps the only decision I disagreed with from my vantage point.

Minutes later, Shay was lucky not to get a second yellow with a late challenge in the middle of the park. I thought it might be time to take him off after that, he’d had a decent game but it looked like a case of ‘head’s gone’. 

Sometime after that I witnessed a piece of so-called ‘shithousery’ that I’m still stuck in two minds about. Ben Tozer took a water bottle from the side of the pitch and had a swig. John went over and indicated he’d like a drink too, so Tozer tipped all of the water onto the floor and chucked the bottle away. It made me angry, but John simply got another bottle, drank from it and then either tipped water on Tozer or threw the bottle at him. What I didn’t like was Tozer then asking the linesman if he’d seen it.

I’m partly in admiration of the levels he went to with tipping the water out and if it were Rheady who’d done it we would likely have cheered, but to try to get John punished afterwards was a bit off. I decided in the end Tozer was an arsehole, just for the afters.

Cheltenham got their goal not long after (I think, you might pull me up on timelines here). It’d been coming if we’re honest, a lacklustre second half had produced little for either side and sub George Lloyd bagged with their only effort of note on target. I immediately went to my phone and did the maths, confidently telling everyone we’d still be up no matter what. I wasn’t 100% sure, but I sounded convincing as my eyes desperately searched for Chris Wray, maths teacher and cartoonist, who would surely have bene able to confirm.

After their goal they were happy with a point I think. We had a couple of chances, Danny Rowe did everything right with an effort that flashed wide and Big John had another effort saved as well. In the 90th minute, I thought the fairy tale had been written. Matt Rhead, on as a sub, crashed an effort at goal and knowing how the other results looked, had it gone in we’d have virtually been champions. How fitting would it have been for the big man to put us in League One?

As it was he couldn’t manage it. The time began to drain away and John was announced as Man of the Match. He’d had a good game, granted, but Bozzy and O’Hara had too. Harry Anderson was another who deserves a mention, he never stopped running and has truly evolved into a significant player for us this season.

It really did feel like ’98, when we needed confirmation of Orient and Torquay after we’d beaten Brighton.

Five minutes of injury time found itself sucked into a vacuum of uncertainty. My Dad asked with around a minute to go if we were getting off, knowing I had a dinner date booked. He, like 90% of the stadium, thought a draw wasn’t good enough. I was still convinced as the whistle blew that we’d done it, but as everyone checked their phones, the signal strength dipped and I got nothing. I moved by the exit, climbed up a couple of rows and waited.

As fans poured out I think a few got wind of the fact it might be a premature exit and began to try to get back in. The area in front of me became very busy, people asking each other if we were up, confused in a good way. I wasn’t confident enough then to say yes, so we found ourselves watching the pitch, waiting on the official word. That really did feel like ’98, when we needed confirmation of Orient and Torquay after we’d beaten Brighton. That day, without mobile phones, good ‘ol boys on radios had relayed the information. Given my 4G signal, a wireless might have been better in 2019.

Then, after the sort of pause that X-Factor results shows would have been proud of, Alan said those magic words. Lincoln City are promoted, or words to that effect. I can’t recall them specifically, because I was hugging my old man and choking back a little tear. We’d known it for a week or so, believed it for a season or so but when it actually happened, when that last bit of paper came off to reveal a brand, spanking new bike, it became fact.

Lincoln City will be a League One club next season.

It was amusing seeing the ‘promoted’ board turned around and the flags coming out quickly. I wonder if there is another box at the ground with ‘Champions 2018/19’ on them that got hurriedly put back in the dressing room for another day? It doesn’t matter, our boys celebrated promotion with gusto, people congratulated each other and the phone went into overdrive. Ipswich, Bolton and the like; we’re coming for you.

It was only walking out of the ground it all began to feel a little bizarre as well. It was as if we were celebrating winning silver at the Olympics, when we are still in the running for gold. All the champagne, flags and cheers were great and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but we’ll be doing the same over the Bank Holiday weekend, be it at the Bank or Brunton Park. We will win the League Two title and these players will cement their place in history. It’s bizarre to think all of yesterdays adulation and joy was just a precursor to the bigger achievement of finishing top. It felt very un-Cowley like to celebrate when there’s still work to be done.

Mind you, for everyone connected with the club, the initial aim has now been completed. Anyone would have taken third at the beginning of the season, the aim was top three. I doubt it was ever first, not officially. Yes, we want to win the league and always have, but the target was promotion. The title, well that’s the cherry on the cake, that’s finding out the bike you’ve just unwrapped has got a gel seat, 15 more gears than you thought and a bell that plays ‘we are going up’ when you ring it.

Despite there still being work to do, despite this being half of the job completed, it didn’t dampen the joy and rightly so. It’s easy to compare to three or four years ago and say look how far we’ve come, but it’s also incredible at the same time. We’ve gone from trips to Altrincham, Hayes and Yeading and Welling, to hosting Ipswich and maybe Sunderland, Portsmouth or Bolton.

Let’s not forget as well that we’re now 19 unbeaten in the league, a club record that’s fallen under Danny and Nicky, or should we say another club record. We’re also the first team in the Football League to earn promotion, a wonderful achievement for everyone from the management and players to the fans who have travelled all over the country.

This is our time and it’s going to get better before the end of the month. Believe.

Yesterday might not have been the main event, it might not have been the game that won us the title, but it is still one we’ll always remember. Not for the performance, not for the result, but for the moment Alan Long announced over the tannoy that we had been promoted to League One. Money can’t buy that feeling, it’s why we follow a football club, the Holy Grail that 72 teams started out chasing and only seven achieve without the help of a play-off.

This is our time and it’s going to get better before the end of the month. Believe.

I’ll end this gushing amble through our promotion confirmation with a message. Granddad; we’re finally back where we belong, like you always used to tell me. Lincoln City were, according to you, a Division Three team. I hope you get the Quest highlights up there with Keith, Butch and all of the other Imps not around to enjoy what is absolutely the best time ever to be an Imps fan. 

Lincoln City in League One. What a time to be alive. 

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