Christmas Cheers at Filbert Street

Peter Gilbert 18.12.00

It was the night before Christmas Eve, the air was as cold as relegation. The crowd of onlookers gradually grew to capacity. All around cheery faces glowed, warm words were exchanged and hands beat together to fight off the cold. The sky was growing dark although it was only 3.00 in the afternoon, a Post Horn sounded in the cold air and hearts were filled with joy and happiness.

The shortest day of the year had just passed but you would never have known it. The singers had sung their carols, the mince pies had been passed around along with a nip of something warming. It was good to be alive especially if you wore the royal blue colours of Leicester City.

Last season we had waited till almost February before we had broken the 30 points barrier, but this time it was different we were there already and the best part of the season was still to come.

All this after being told we were doomed and that our number was up when our so called stars went to glitter elsewhere.

The wise men from the east had journeyed and been rewarded, the shepherds had watched their flocks by night and had come down from the hills after they had heard of tidings of comfort and joy on Filbert Street.

The angel had hovered over us and lit our star in the sky which had stayed with us and brightened up our world.

The merry gentlemen had rested and now our time was here and from a lowly cattle shed the crowds and multitudes having travelled from far and wide had marvelled at our good fortune.

For it was as it had been spoken that a new king would be born and he would rule our world and all that was in it and he would spread goodness and light upon us and we would rejoice.

He would be born the son of a humble man, his father being a simple tailor but both he and his wife when they saw the baby would call it Peter as they had been commanded to do.

He would sit with the wise men and teach them the ways and the truth as it should be known. A man from a far off cold country would listen to his words and he would learn and never forget.

And all that knew the man Peter the Taylor as he became known would have their lives enriched and they would forget the other kings that had ruled their turf briefly and they would praise him as their greatest leader ever.

And so it was that in the last days before 2000 Christmases had passed a band of men from West Ham would come to visit. They had pockets full of money for they had sold their souls but Peter the Taylor had said 'What good is money for we all know it cannot buy you anything? Good things can only be given like good dreams in the night. And dreams are what it's all about. The dream, the pursuit, the hunt, the conquest, the victory. No one can take our dreams from us, they are our destiny and if we are good enough we shall prosper and enjoy the great success that sparks our minds to dream at all. Without that dream we are nowt and our game is not alive at all. It is our destiny to make the dream of the common man bear fruit and become reality. We shall avenge the defeats of our forefathers and we shall bring the empires built on money crashing to the floor and their gold and silver and trinkets will burn and melt in the fires of tomorrow that will be the beacons of our success.'

In short........... I think we'll beat West Ham and go from strength to strength in the new year.

Merry Christmas to you all and here's to an even brighter and very royal blue ............new year.
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