It’s 4:35 pm on a Monday afternoon, and what has been a fantastic weekend as a Lincoln City fan finally feels like it is coming to an end.
Personally, it has been a massive weekend. On Friday, in order to prepare for the celebrations, we went to a secret supper with celebrity chef Rachel Green, kicking off the weekend in real style. That turned into a late night with friends, so I was already a little tired by the time I had my usual Corn Dolly breakfast.
What really struck me was how the city has embraced the success. I know it’s been growing like that for years. Dan and Nick had the city on strings with their success, but it’s grown and developed. I noticed shop windows full of Lincoln stuff, and on Sincil Street alone, I think four businesses had some sort of display celebrating the Imps. I know Pepperdine’s always does, but it was just nice to feel that synergy. I grew up in an era where it felt like the football club was a dirty little secret, tucked away down the High Street where it could be ignored by all apart from the supporters, but as Jez said, it’s now a source of absolute pride.
As for the fanzone, words cannot really describe it. It was the end of an era of sorts, immediately after renovations started, and already I’ve seen the Tipsy Imp cabin on the move. I often say I remember that first evening for the fanzone, and to watch it grow and develop into what it is today has been a pleasure. As for the Centre Spot, I have to confess to feeling a little sad. That bar has been part of the matchday routine for so many years. I remember, in the days before the fanzone, standing just outside the door with beers. I remember going in there at 2:40 pm on a game day, having time for a drink before taking my seat. Personally, it has hosted events of mine in the past, and so to know it’ll be no more is a shame. However, things move on, and it hasn’t really been fit for purpose for the last 20 years.
Back to the fanzone, or Fan Village, I think the official name is. I have never seen it so busy. It was just wall-to-wall people, and getting a beer was virtually impossible. We got two each on first serving, just so we didn’t have to queue a second time. That’s not a complaint, it’s just unreal how that side of the club has evolved. It is really easy to forget where we were and where we have come from. It’s difficult to imagine a pre-match routine that involved being able to sit down in the bar with 30 minutes to go, or only going to High Street pubs because there was no incentive to go to the ground.
I’m not analysing the game here, by the way. That’s been done, and Wycombe proved worthy final adversaries in League One. We won, it was exciting, and that is that.
After the game, the celebrations began, but it was difficult on the pitch. Obviously, there was a pitch invasion, not from me as I’m far too old to be going from upper GBM to pitchside, but let’s be sensible, the club knew it was going to happen. They have to be able to show they’ve done their best to stop it because of the EFL, but they don’t want to take the joy out of the moment for supporters. Me? I felt it was nothing more than a gesture. We knew we were champions, that had been sealed, so to invade as if we had just done it that day felt a bit staged. That’s not on the club at all, it just wasn’t for me, but I wouldn’t begrudge anyone who wanted those moments.
I did feel the trophy presentation was a bit awkward. I’ve seen houses built more quickly than the stage, and then to have the trophy presented out of view of 5,000 supporters was just a little anticlimactic. Again, no slur on the club, I remember the 2018/19 one being criticised because the backdrop was a handful of Colchester fans and an empty stand. We need to market everything, and what better than the trophy going up with a packed stand in the background? The pictures looked good, but all I saw was Kamil Conteh jumping off the back and climbing back on the stage.
It was amusing to see Josh Honohan get a medal. I know he’s a squad member and all that, but it felt a bit John Terry, for the casual observer. Of course, this is a full team effort, day in, day out, not just on a Saturday, but how funny is it that we saw a player for the first time in his City kit as he’s being given a medal! I look forward to seeing him playing in said kit next season.
After that, it was out in town. The fanzone was quiet after the game, but the town was not. We dropped into the Millers, and there was a great party atmosphere, but Stack was on another level. As we walked down there, almost every ‘football’ pub seemed packed, and I’m sure the Eagle and Shakey were as well. Those little ones were busy (Imp and Angel and Tiny Tavern), and even the Ritz (boo, hiss) was heaving.
While one pub further up the High Street doesn’t even let football fans in, Stack has nailed it. When we arrived, there was a queue snaking up the road, and we were told it would be a minimum of half an hour. Everyone knew the players would be in, everyone wanted to share that moment, and we could hear the celebrations outside. It must have been around 7:30 pm as the kids were just being ejected, and eventually Nicki (who sits behind me) turned up with a booked table, and she graciously let us pretend we were on it. In!
The scenes in there were great. Red and white everywhere, singing, all sorts. That felt like a proper celebration, not a forced pitch invasion for the sake of it, but a visceral, emotive reaction. I didn’t hang around for the players (9:20 pm bus back to Wragby), but for me, it wasn’t about that. It was just about seeing everyone there, together, celebrating, enjoying a moment in time that might never be repeated.
I was tempted to drag the evening out until the early hours, but knowing we had a table booked at the Engine Shed for the Awards Dinner, I wanted to be ready. The last two years I’ve been, once as part of a table with Chris, Charlie and Ben, and another time as a guest of the Foundation. Both times, I’ve been out the night before with nothing to celebrate and ended up with a hangover as bad as anything.
The Awards Dinner was amazing. It’s a big night for the club commercially, tables are four figures for ten people. It’s aimed at sponsors and the like, but as historic guests, we got offered one which we shared with the Imps representatives of Her Game Too, Rachel, Jayne and Dominique. It’s a celebration of all things Imps, with a few nice touches.
I enjoyed this year because I was in a state to drink, and I did drink. They make it quite fun, there is a quiz, which I thought we’d won! Fe was copying my answers, and I got every question right, until the last one, ‘how many career appearances does Adam Reach have’. We picked two different answers, and Fe got it right, she got all the questions! Sadly, three other people were quicker with their guesses.
Then our numbers came out of the raffle, read expertly by Alfie Lloyd. It was funny, instead of saying ‘green strip 386-390’ or whatever, he read out all the numbers, but no colour. 386, 387, 388, 389, 390. Imagine our delight when our strip came out first! Fe went off to get her prize, only to find someone else already there with the same numbers. Different colour strips, and neither had actually won, she was mortified!
The awards were great, but it’s the moments in between. I did fanboy a lot, chatting to a few of the players, probably slurring and saying very little of value. I’m 47, these players are half my age in some instances, and yet to me, they’re the same as the ones I had posters of on my wall. I go to university and answer questions from young people and feel like an old man, but chatting to George Wickens, the same age, I feel like a child meeting a hero. It’s bizarre how football does that. Seeing Freddie Draper at the bar and having to pluck up the courage to go and speak to him is weird when you think about it. He’s a young lad at best! He doesn’t look it, though, he is a big bugger up close. They all are.
My highlight was talking to Conor McGrandles. I love the lad. I was really unfair when he left the first time, and I recall his partner’s mum (I think) messaging me about it. I was upset when he left, and having been given an untrue story by a manager, I thought he’d turned his back on us. He didn’t, and he’s now going to hit 200 outings, driving the most outrageous promotion by being its beating heart. Bizarrely, he remembered the first time we met, a brief interaction at a sponsor’s event in 2021/22, which I didn’t expect. He’s so grounded, so approachable, and seemingly humble.
They all are, to be fair. Some of the younger lads were lively, like Alfie Lloyd, Deji Elerewe, Ryan Oné and Kamil Conteh (not pronounced ‘camel’ as I did). George Wickens chatted about the foul against Luton, Ben House about how he stumbled across the podcast and how he let Emily wear his medal. I just crept around, popping up next to players who were only too happy to chat, just as I imagine they were in Stack.
Finally, we got an auction, and I almost got caught out. While it was going on, I caught our friend, Chilli Steve, on the balcony, and with my back to the stage, I waved at him. That wave could have cost me £600, as Rob Makepeace believed it to be a bid on a signed David Beckham shirt. For a few seconds, I was ahead in the auction without even realising. The boys pointed it out, and you cannot imagine my relief when finally another bid came in.
The night wound down after that, with the only disappointing moment coming towards the end. We were off chatting to Michael, everyone from the table doing different things, and someone took our signed ball. There is a ball on each table, signed by the squad, for someone to take away. We were going to take it to use as a raffle prize at our upcoming charity game, but right at the end, someone nicked it. I’d like to think it was a mistake, but given our stuff was still on the table, it didn’t quite feel like it.
Eventually, we left as the lights came on, and ended up in Mailbox with some of the 617 guys, just chewing the fat. It’s funny they started back in the National League days, as did I with the site, so to share a drink with Conor, Nick and their table on the evening we celebrated promotion to the Championship felt really fitting.
Nothing felt fitting this morning, trying to sit up in bed without being ill.
That was it. That was the most memorable weekend of my life (in terms of Lincoln City, I might add). We’ll celebrate again on Saturday at Port Vale, and then it will be a time to reflect and prepare for next season. Life rolls on, football rolls on, but weekends like this, they stay with you forever.
Up the Imps.
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