The final whistle barely mattered.
By then, the Select Car Leasing Stadium had already descended into pure, unfiltered chaos. Brian Barry-Murphy was up on the advertising hoardings, scarf whirling above his head, drinking in the adoration of a heaving away end. Champagne was being sprayed, Callum Robinson drenching himself as team-mates piled in, while thousands of Cardiff City supporters bounced in unison, voices hoarse, limbs everywhere.
“We are going up!” came the cry. Again. And again. And again.
One supporter burst from a hospitality box, phone pressed to her ear, screaming the words down the line to a loved one before joining in the chorus. Around her, strangers embraced like family. Smiles stretched wide, tears flowed. This was not just celebration – this was release.
In seven years covering this club for me personally, there has been nothing like this.
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For years, Cardiff City have lurched from one setback to another. Relegation. Managerial churn. Poor decisions. The heartbreak of losing Peter Whittingham and Sol Bamba, whose names were sung in a particularly poignant and emotional moment in the aftermath. The trauma surrounding Emiliano Sala. The wider struggles that have hit the communities in south Wales, from Covid to devastating floods.
And yet, through it all, fans kept turning up. Not even Mick McCarthy’s five centre-backs or finishing bottom of the Championship could keep them away.
So when the moment finally came, in the most absurd, unlikely fashion imaginable, it felt almost surreal.
An Exeter goalkeeper scoring deep into stoppage time to deny Stockport. That just doesn’t happen to Cardiff City.
But maybe now it does? Maybe this is the start of something new.
Earlier in the day, it had felt like Cardiff were gatecrashing someone else’s party. One Reading supporter summed it up on social media pre-match: “No one here. Cardiff everywhere.”
They weren’t wrong. Nearly 3,000 made the trip officially, but there were dozens more scattered across the ground, tucked into hospitality, finding any way in.
There was a different feeling about it all from the start.
Callum Robinson made his way over to his family before kick-off, father, wife, daughter, soaking in the moment. The away end, already in full voice, serenaded him with chants of “Robinson again, allez allez”.
But beneath the noise, there were nerves. And understandably so, perhaps, for this still young and relatively inexperienced bunch.
Reading started brightly and Cardiff wobbled. Dylan Lawlor endured a shaky opening, twice caught out before trudging over to the touchline after 17 minutes, where Barry-Murphy greeted him with an arm around the shoulder.
The fans tried to ease the tension the only way they know how.
“Tottenham away, allez allez,” they sang just before the break. Then, with typical bite: “You Jack b******s, we’re coming for you!”
When Rubin Colwill’s header put Cardiff ahead, belief flickered. When Omari Kellyman added a second, it grew louder.
But this is Cardiff. It’s never simple.
As news filtered through that Stockport were still ahead, the anxiety remained. Even more so when Reading pulled one back. The game teetered, the noise rising and falling with every update from Exeter.
Then came the first eruption.
On 68 minutes, the away end exploded – not for anything happening in front of them, but for Exeter’s equaliser to make it 2-2. Players glanced over. Fans grabbed each other. Something was shifting.
Still, Cardiff needed their moment.
It arrived in spectacular fashion.
With four minutes left, Perry Ng picked up the ball 20 yards out and unleashed a rocket into the net. He didn’t hesitate. He sprinted the length of the pitch, straight to the supporters. Bedlam. Absolute bedlam. Somewhere in the chaos, a supporter’s crutch was hurled onto the pitch in celebration.
And then, the final twist.
Deep into stoppage time, word spread like wildfire. Exeter had equalised again. The roar in the away end was deafening. The goalkeeper had scored. Ryan Wintle turned to the crowd, punching the air in sheer disbelief. The fans didn’t need telling twice.
Pandemonium.
In the aftermath, the songs poured out.
“Yousef Salech, scoring all the time…”
The Colwill brothers were serenaded to the tune of Yaya and Kolo Touré.
“Cian Ashford running down the wing…”
These were no longer just players.
These were heroes. New heroes.
This season has transformed them. Youngsters, unknowns in the eyes of many, growing into men under pressure, delivering when it mattered most. Delivering something this fanbase has craved for so long.
And as Barry-Murphy prepared to speak post-match, there was a fitting moment behind the scenes. Emerging from the tunnel came his father, Jimmy Barry-Murphy – a giant of Irish sport, a hero to so many, even to figures like Roy Keane.
But on this day, and for a long time to come, it is Brian who will hold that status in south Wales.
Because this was his team. His players. His moment. And their moment.
Promotion days don’t come around often and these supporters deserve it. After everything, they deserve this.
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