I have this romantic image of how I arrived at tomorrow, Lincoln City appearing in the Championship.
I think back to the day, just over ten years ago, when we brushed aside North Ferriby, 6-1. We led 4-0 after 25 minutes, and I turned to my Dad and said, ‘If this carries on, we’ll be playing in the Championship in ten years time’.
That’s not how it happened. I didn’t sit with Dad that night, but I am sure that over the next few games we discussed where the club might go, what we might achieve. The memories begin to merge a little, especially when it comes to Dad; I suppose that happens with the passage of time. I expect we chatted about how we might get to League One and establish. I know we had that conversation the night we beat Oldham 3-2. I remember that very well, chatting on the way home about how we were better than them, and if that was the level, who knows?
Over the years, we’d look at where we might go, and it felt like we hit a ceiling. Dad’s final game at the Bank was Wrexham on the last day of the 2024/25 season, and it just felt like a ceiling. ‘We are what we are’ he’d say in a rare moment of not moaning about Freddie Draper. Growing up, as we struggled in Division Four, he’d tell me we were a Third Division club; that’s where we belonged. To him, and to me, that was the pinnacle of our hopes, and we got there in his lifetime.
He’s not here now, but he would not believe what is happening to the club. We’re being linked with seven-figure bids for players. We’ve got Middlesbrough tomorrow; we’ve got West Ham, who were going toe-to-toe with Man Utd and Liverpool last season. We even have a full double page in the Panini sticker album, or at least we will when it comes out. Ten years ago, our players were more likely to collect the stickers than feature, more likely to watch West Ham on TV, and the only time seven figures were mentioned would be in reference to potential debt.
Half of today should be about celebration. It should be about drinking everything in. You see, I remember another feeling, one that actually overrides much of what we have felt in the last ten years. I was standing at the back of the stand at Adams Park in August 2017, and the announcer said, ‘Welcome to Sky Bet League Two, Wycombe Wanderers and Lincoln City…’. I could have cried; after six years in exile, that moment when it hit that we were a Football League team was just something else. That moment gives me goosebumps. Tomorrow, we’ll hear the words ‘Sky Bet Championship’ and that moment will be so, so sweet.
Enjoy it. Travel up north, see your friends, watch at home, text, ring, do whatever you need to. Before the game, look around at a new ground for most of us, packed to the rafters, and feel that little pang of pride. Little old Lincoln City, in the Championship. How exciting. Take the plaudits, share the moments and appreciate where we are.
Then, when that whistle goes, let’s drop the little-boy-lost act. We’re not tourists. We’re not here to have a look around and take photos like a country yokel travelling to the big city for the first time. We’re not here just to see the sights. We have to shake that off in the best Taylor Swift style possible. We’re here to be 21st, 20th, maybe higher, and we earned this. We belong here. You belong here. Over the last ten years, we’ve been like a snowball careering down a hill, occasionally catching a rock and having a bit fall off, but generally on a collision course with the Championship. Now we’ve hit it; we need to carry on rolling.
Our support is great. Those numbers have kept going. I remember the 1,000 at York City on a Tuesday night in November, a number which seemed beyond comprehension. Those numbers kept going up: 5,000 at Ipswich, 9,000 at Arsenal, and I’m sure that, had we got 5,000 tickets for tomorrow, we’d have sold them. It’s easier to fall out with your own fans than supporters of other clubs, because we love the same thing and love it differently, but those moments where we are in synergy- Reading away, Cardiff away– there is something magical in that.
We all have our stories of loved ones who can’t be there tomorrow, and once again, I know that for the coldest of moments on a red-hot day tomorrow, I’ll look to the skies and just wish my old man could have been here. Probably more so to prove to him Draper is Championship quality than anything, but I’d give everything I own just to be getting in the car, going to Wragby and taking him to a Championship game. If you have the luxury of your loved ones going tomorrow, just share a moment, because one day, that memory will keep you going deep into the cold months of October and November.
Tomorrow is the carnival, but those cold months are coming. Those wet nights under the lights, double layers, two pairs of socks, defeats (remember those?) and the realisation that this is happening- it’s all in the post. Like many of you, I’m still at the ‘pinch me’ moment, but tomorrow, at 3 pm, it’s time to shelve that. Tomorrow, at 3 pm, it’s time to show the class of 2026/27 just the same love as the class of 2025/26.
Tomorrow, at 3 pm, Lincoln City will properly become a Championship club. Let’s go get the bastards!
Up the Imps.
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