Moving on from Wembley...

I've finally had time to sit back and mull over the past week and a half. I'm not going to match report the Wembley encounter or anything like that, rather chat shit sitting at the war table.

As I stood at The Valley following Stephen Darby's penalty kick, I felt pure exultation of the highest form; how I imagine one would feel upon receipt of your first-born or landing that dream job. This is no exaggeration. For me, getting the opportunity to watch my beloved Swindon at Wembley for the first time caused this, and you may or may not be able to relate. If you're unable to, try to find your purest passage of joy; how would it feel to top that? In light of this, perhaps I was not ready for a Swindon victory at Wembley just yet.

Regardless, the 11 days between the thrilling 2nd leg encounter with Charlton and our big day out at New Wembley saw me on top of the world. No cheap-shot, sucker-punch, slobber-knocker or crippler-crossface could knock me down. Even with such anticipation, those 264 hours felt more like a mere 24. In hindsight, I wish it had been the opposite. To have been able to bask in the glory of the evening of Monday 17th May for longer would have been nice, and our Wembley defeat brought myself and I expect many a Town fan back down to earth, too hard and too soon. Alas, the organisation of transport to Wembley and the purchase of tickets consumed many of these hours and before I knew it, it was squeaky bum time and Destination Wembley Stadium. A huge thanks must go to Trevor Wainwright, Gig Talmage and Wayne Talmage who gave up a huge amount of their own time and money to make our Wembley trip possible.

Final day was an absolute stonker. I had an absolutely amazing time journeying and whilst at Wembley, and I'm sure many others will agree. The only thing left was Town being en route to the Championship, but this was not to be. For days I thought about what could have been, and in my head what should have been, but finally my pint is once again half full.

A long and fruitful season has left me with much to be grateful for; the unearthing of starlet Charlie Austin, some of the best football I've seen grace the County Ground, unbeatable away days, back to back victories over both Leeds and Southampton and of course the privilege of watching the mighty reds grace Wembley's hallowed turf.

This was my third visit to New Wembley, after previously watching Exeter's rise to League 2 and an England friendly. On my 2nd visit I stopped off at the statue of Bobby Moore for a quick prayer to the footballing gods. As my father and I turned to leave I said "The next time we see this statue we will be here to watch Swindon in the playoff finals". If only I'd have added "winning" to my statement...