The 77-year wait is finally over.

And what better way to do it than by shattering the dreams of Ipswich - the side which beat City 11 years ago and blocked the path to the top flight.

You know when it's an important match - you wake before 7am without the need for a single alarm, let alone the three I've got in my room, and lie there with all the different scenarios playing through your mind.

At last on the road, car after car was bedecked with every piece of claret and amber paraphernalia you could wish to see - scarves, banners, towels, shirts, badges, and even furry dice.

And the highlight of the trip was when Geoffrey Richmond himself eased passed us in the outside lane and gave us the thumbs-up.

But once at Wolves, the atmosphere at the start of the match was apprehensive to say the least. City didn't get off to the best of starts, going down to an early goal, and people were more interested in the result at Ipswich than the events on the field.

As City started to edge back into the game people started to believe they could actually win.

What better sight for any City fan than a Beagrie back flip to mark the opening goal - the crowd went mad and, suddenly, the home fans went very quiet.

When the second goal went in, the sort of celebrations where you kiss a complete stranger and hug an old man you've never seen before started.

The second half of the match seemed to go on forever. I checked my watch several times to see whether it was still working. People were so nervous they were unable to clap, let alone sing a song to lift the team.

Then came the goal that sealed it from Robbie 'ball on a string' Blake, sparking scenes of wild celebration.

All kinds of thoughts were going through my mind - the pain of 11 years ago when Ipswich denied City on the final day of the season, Alan Ball's comments that Bradford's luck would eventually run out, the sight of Huddersfield celebrating at the end of two matches they played against City this year - and none of it mattered because Bradford were finally going to do it.

The final few seconds were a mixture of singing, nervous anticipation, and whistle-blowing from the fans. And when the referee answered Stuart McCall's plea to end the match the entire away end erupted into one big chorus of "We are Premier League, say we are Premier League."

Stuart McCall threw his shorts into the crowd, the hugging and kissing started again, fans were crying, there was singing in the ladies toilets - and it continued all the way back up the M6 to Valley Parade.

Did you catch Stuart McCall's shorts? Give the T&A newsdesk a ring on (01274) 729511, ext 292/400/336.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.