Distance from Coventry Building Society Arena to Molineux - 38 miles (61km). Travel time 1hr I may appear calm, but we’ve just witnessed the greatest City game ever (so far). I can barely contain myself, but I will try and make some sense of what happened.

This game is the FA Cup quarter final. It’s like the Superbowl divisional playoffs, probably. Except every club competes for the FA Cup. That is 124 teams. We are down to the last 8. For a club like Coventry, it’s massive.

At stake, a place in the semi-final at Wembley. And we are underdogs. So underdog, that the dog has wandered off, had one last go on a lady dog and now identifies as a cat.

Wolverhampton isn’t that far. It’s in the Black Country. It only takes an hour, and it’s just up the M6. Traffic, cooling towers and spaghetti junction. There is nothing to write about the trip through the industrial heartlands of the Midlands. 

We can talk about Wolverhampton though. Robert Palmer from Led Zeppelin is from Wolverhampton. That's cool. Here's something else that's cool. 

In 985 King Ethelred granted lands at a place referred to as Heantun to Lady Wulfrun by royal charter and hence founded the settlement that would become the City of Wolverhampton. Why is that cool? Well, you know, Kings were given nicknames, to make them sound interesting. 

We had Richard The Lionheart, Charles The Diminished, James The Superstitious. Well Ethelred was known as Ethelred The Unready. A name that wives up and down the country have since commandeered. I mean, he was King. You’d get a better name. In fact both names are pretty ridiculous. He doesn’t sound scary at all.

I’d go for something like Mark The Ladysatisfier, or Mark The Horse. Another thing about Wolverhampton. 

The UK's first set of traffic lights were placed in Princes Square in Wolverhampton. And that’s because, since the invention of the motor car, people have been trying to leave Wolverhampton as quickly as possible, causing traffic chaos in the centre of the city. How did Wolverhampton grow? Coal, steel, cars, you know, pretty industrial. Whatever, if you’re that interested, look it up. There’s a game to talk about. 

It’s an early kick off, we get to the ground at 11am. Surely it’s too early for a KFC?? Especially on top of the McDonalds Double Bacon Sausage Egg McMuffin Double Hash Brown Breakfast Special?? And the Family Sized Dairy Milk Chocolate bar (available at The Queen's Pantry). I don’t want to ruin tonights kebab, so we search for a boozer so the definitely 18 year-old Scarpa can have a pre-match pint. 

Talk about the game. OK. So we’ve been pretty rubbish in the league. We sit around 8th out of 24, promotion to the Premier League is still mathematically possible, but also mathematically improbable. Our hope for glory lies in the FA Cup. 

The American, ironically, has been terrible at shooting. He looks good. Nice hair. Good physique, but he couldn't hit a cow's arse with a banjo. Theres rumblings on the terraces that it’s been a waste of £9 million. 

The expectations are low. Wolves are Premier League, and they play exciting football. The gulf in class could be embarrassing. But we turn up in our numbers and the City faithful are in full voice. After a tight first half, where City hold their own, we take a shock lead. The American is not involved. 

Time is running out. City, 1-0 up. Heading to Wembley. Only 8 minutes to go. Can we hold on? The tension is unbearable. A cross comes in, Coventry don’t clear, it falls to a Wolves player, he smashes it into the back of the net. 1-1 with 2 minutes to go. 

An extra 30 minutes will be added on at full-time if it stays this way. Wolves have a break, Coventry are all over the place, Hugo Bueno is through, he slots it home, 2-1 Wolves. Coventry hearts are broken. Wolves are delirious. We were so close. Heads drop. The 90 minutes are up.

But hang on. There are 9 minutes of injury time. Can we snatch an equaliser and take it to extra time. Bodies are tired, Wolves are wasting time. We try to lift the players, but we are all exhausted. Time is running out, only 2 minutes of the 9 left. 

The American gets the ball on the left wing. He dummies the defender to give himself half a yard, and dinks a cross into the near post. It’s flicked on and Elis Simms meets it with a header. The net bursts, and City are on level terms. We’ve equalised. We go wild. A sea of Sky Blue. ‘City till I die’ we sing. We never give up. 

There’s only a minute left before extra time. Please don’t concede. We have a throw in. Just see the clock out lads, and re-group. We hardly notice Callum O’Hare turn the defender and put a cross in. It falls to The America. He’s no longer American. He’s Argentinian. He’s Lionel Messi. He sees a gap no-one sees and puts the ball beyond the diving Wolves keepers grasp. The net ripples. He’s done it. King Haji Wright The Useless. He sends the City fans into raptures and the Wolves fans dumbfounded.We were dead and buried. 

And now the final whistle blows and we are into the Semi Final of the FA Cup for the first time since 1987. The American is our Saviour. Tears flow in the stands. We have just witnessed the greatest comeback. Ever. And I’ve now just come back down to earth. 4 weeks later. And guess what. We’re playing Manchester United for a chance to play in the FA Cup Final. We don’t have a chance…… …….but….just in case we do, we play this Sunday, 21st April, kick off 10.30 your time. Watch out for Blogit and Scarpas 2nd Wembley appearance in a year. 

Wembley Again Ole Ole.