The tears didn’t come right away—not from the unbearable frustration of the first ninety minutes, nor from the surreal and profound joy of the last five.
No, the intensity of those moments didn’t allow for much more than the most basic emotions, a grunt here, a ‘Come On City’ there, with the occasional meek and stressful rendition of Blue Moon. It was only after, among the stunned and delirious crowd at Opera Bob’s Public House in Toronto, that I started to well up. It was the sight of the older woman, retro City scarf in hand and wearing an 80s era replica strip, that did it.
With Oasis’ Don’t Look Back in Anger blasting over the speakers, the woman, about 65, rocked back and forth proudly holding the scarf aloft. She paused only to wipe a tear out of her eyes. She was old enough to have seen City as champions. Wise enough to have been aware that for the majority of the time that she had held that scarf, the idea she’d live long enough to see it again was absurd.
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