Picture the scene. It is December 2005. The crowd full of pre-Christmas cheer and joy. More passionate that usual, not just because of the the Christmas spirit, but because this is the cup and a miracle could be about to conclude in front of your very eyes.
Re-enforced with extras, a capacity crowd Belle Vue, expected, prior to kick-off, that they would be premièring yet another smash hit, Carling Cup blockbuster. It was to be the third instalment, and in the Quarter-Finals you could potentially have two great pieces of Spielberg-type cinema clashes on viewing in the future. But that's not for tonight, tonight is about Part III.
If Spielberg had used Doncaster's 05-06 Carling Cup run as an incentive for a film then it wouldn't disappoint. It was scripted to perfection, particularly for a fan.
The clock slowly ticked away on your watch on your freezing right hand. Your side leads 2-1 and you have a beaming smile on your face. There is just one minute to go and your striker, Paul Heffernan, has the ball. It is within your grasp. Surely it can't be thrown away now?
You stare eagily to your right, looking at Heffs, your fingers in your mouth inpersonating the referee's whistle like the rest of the home supporters. Your side, average in the third tier, was destined for the back pages again. Arsenal surely couldn't equalise now? There was the problem. You weren't just playing anyone, you were facing Arsenal, a side who later that season were participating in the Champions League final.
Paul Heffernan's spell on the ball seemed to last an eternity, close to the corner flag between the Rossington End and the Popular Terrace. I don't think even the Irish goal-machine knew quite what to do with it. You saw the corner of his eye glance at the goal - almost like Geoff Hurst did to scoring England's forth in the 1966 World Cup final - then down at the ball it went.
That was his mistake, he took too long considering his decision, and like a flash he had lost the ball. Following the second he lost the ball, it wasn't as if the time was slowed and simply had been resumed that moment, it was almost like someone 'up there' had pressed fast-forward. On reflection it was it was probably one of the best counter-attacks I have ever witnessed. Won by the left back, the ball was played down the left, to the winger, who centred a low cross into the penalty area. There was only one result at that point when the ball was struck into the back of Jan Budtz's net... penalties. Again.
The home fans were left deflated. And, looking back, we were never going to win that shoot out. 10,000 dreams had been shattered, but of course, tragically, so had the eleven players. Arsenal won, not because they were the better team over 120 minutes, but because they had better penalty takers, a better shot-stopping goal-keeper, and were a lot more confident and motivated.
Within a few moments, Doncaster had gone from the verge of the last four, to out of the competition. The Gunners were through. You could see the confidence disappear in each performance, and it didn't come back before it was too late. The result, single-handedly cost the Yorkshire outfit promotion that season, but not only that but lead to the departure of the ambitious Michael McIndoe, and indirectly, to September's resignation of Dave Penney.
Of course, I didn't know that then, but I remember saying bemused and bewildered, as words of comfort to the long walk up Bennethorpe (a road from Belle Vue to the centre of town), that 'there is always next year'...
Now, approaching 2010, I am still waiting...
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