IT WAS A night of do or die destiny. Approaching the ground there was a real buzz and a real racket. With half an hour to go there there was loud chanting. I couldn't believe it. It must be heaving in there already. But when I got in there was no-one there but a small knot of Swiss fans and a few scattered early ra-ras foam hands at the ready.
So where did the noise come from? Muy money is on Me Mark Page pumping out mega-decible crowd effects in a bid to lure waverers in nearby Doggy or the the town into thinking it was Cardiff all over again and they really must get there.
Basle haven't brought many. We were led to believe that they travelled in numbers and took 3,000 to Man United in a Champions League dead rubbber but there are barely 250 here for a game of massive importance. "Basel At home, Watching Das Bill"
Then 20 minutes before kick-off John Donovan appeared as a lone figure in the North West corner putting up the Erimus banner single-handed. I always look for the Erimus banner and I can't remember a game for years where it hadn't appeared. It is simple, iconic, familiar and looks to the future with . 'We WILL Be'. It's unfurling was the signal for the crowd to start streaming in to take their places as Boro began their historic struggle to salvage the European dream.
By the time the surfer began to ripple across the North Stand there was a real buzz and the volume was nudging up in anticipation of the pre-match Pigbag and the battle to come. Howay Boro! The kick-off prompts a passionate 'You Are My Boro' that is loud as anything ever heard at the Riverside. We are really up for this.
And there is almost a fairytale start as the keeper fumbles a routine ball into the box after 30 seconds and the Yak hooks the ball over his shoulder goalwards but it bounces just the wrong side of the post and we rip up the script. Alright, we'll do it th ehard way, pennas it is.
Basel are wearing an all white strip that could be Boro's off the peg effort from last week only they have flashes across the elbows that look like black armbands. "For Gene Pitney" quips Eric. Only 24 hours from Steaua.
Penalty! Viduka goes down in the box on 11 minutes and it probably isn't but we all shout hopefully anyway. And that's just in the press box.
PENALTY!! Two minutes later the Yak goes down and this time it looks a definite spot kick but the ref waves it away and the furious red faced crowd go mental, shouting and screaming with anger at this gross injustice and faint-hearts begin to suspect it is not our day.
The monitor replay looks inconclusive but almost immediately phones start to ring and beep in the press box as friends, family and colleagues watching on the box text and call to reiterate it was a stonewall penalty. This telephone tree is a vital and often understated element of the football reporter's armoury.
Then soon after Mac appears holding his head in aguished disbelief with Gibbo beside him seething silently. That could yet be the defining image of Boro's exit.
Bugger. Bugger. Bugger.Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. They've scored. That wasn't supposed to happen. Now we need four. Typical Boro. Make it bloody hard for ourselves why don't we. That's a blow. Come on, lets get forward. Let's give it a crack.
The Swiss start to sing "Only Sing When You're Winning" in perfect English along with a selection of tunes from the Sound of Music and I am starting to dislike the cow bell dinging, mountain clinmbing, Nazi gold hoarding, apple off son's head Toblerone eating self righteous gets.
Then Franck gets clattered and is hastily patched up with the by now mandatory Boro defenders head bandage. You know how it with footballers: if one has one, they all want one. They are the same with Ferraris.
GOOOALL! On 32 minutes Viduka forces his way past a defender and absolutely leathers the ball straight at the keeper like Hot Shot Hamish. The shot stopper can see the air molecules melting and turning to glass around the net seeking missile and puts a half-hearted hand out while jumping away from the scorching trajectory. Very sensible. If he had got in the way there would have been a cartoon style hole in his midriff.
Come on. Let's get another before the break. We can do this. I know, I know, its delusional. But we beat Man U 4-1. Come on. Boro are piling forward. Nearly. Yak shoots on the turn just before the break and it is well pushed aside by the keeper. Close but no cigar.
At half time there is a air of weary resignation and anger at the referee in the concourses along with spradic outbursts of gallows humour but encouragingly no recrimations... there's plenty of time for that after next Wednesday.
Right now I'm an emotional metronome now swinging from bleak profound depression at th eend of the adventure to wild unfounded optimism. It's a funny old game. It is possible. Believe. They are terrified of Viduka. If only we can get an early goal.
The insanity of my hoping against hope is suddenly underpinned by objective reality as Mac suffles the pack and throws on Jimmy for Morrison against all his natural conservative instincts and goes with three up front for the second half. And that is backed up by almost inconceivable switch to a cavalier 3-4-3 formation, a tactical change you would think rash on Championship Manager. Had he been sacked at half-time and Kevin Keegan installed?
With a full throated Teesside roar urging them on forward Boro went gung-ho and bombarded the box and several time stheir dodgy keeper spilled it be we couldn't capitalise.
Then Viduka tricks past his man, rounds the keeper and slots his second on 57 minutes to an ear-splitting explosion, the sound barrier smashing with the speed of the belief rushing back into the stands. "Two more, We only need two more," the crowd sang and suddenly it did not seem such an impossible task.
Come on. Boro are throwing the ball into the maelstrom and the box is chaos but it just won't fall for an attacker and the Swiss central pair are having a storming game hacking it clear and cutting out through balls.
Then the demented attack-attack-attack faction in the crowd (who normally believe Mac to be the anti-Christ) go into meltdown as Mac throws yet another forward on, Maccarone coming on in place of the hobbling Queudrue and I say to Eric he will get the winner and we laugh.
It is a high risk strategy, not least because the Boro's head bandage has gone off meaning under new FIFA regulations we now need a volunteer to recklessly put their head where the boots are flying or we could get docked three points.
A lot of decisions are going against Boro and the crwd turn on the ref. Then suddenly we get a break and after a bout of grappling with Boateng in the Boro box the ref gives Majstorovic a second yellow to the delight of the crowd. Not only do Boro now have a numerical advantage but the rock in the defence has been Basel's best player and has headed away about 200 crosses. Come on, lets take advantage, throw it in the mixer for God's ake.
Then BANG. On 79 minutes the Boat rolls a neat ball to Jimmy 25 yards out and as if in a little envelope of peace and tranquility amid the frenzy he casually picked his spot and curled it into the far top corner. Beautiful.
"One more, We only want one more." I'm having palpitations now. I jump up screaming for a penalty as Viduka gets barged over then I'm up again as a Rochemback shot sizzles wide then again as the Yak put a header looping over.
Come on. Get it in the box. We need a lucky break. We need a dodgy penalty, an own goal or the ball to fly in off the ref's arse. We need a moment of madness or sublime skill. We need some cosmic karmic intervention. I am whispering silent prayers to all the Gods of Football. You us one for all those kicks in the teeth. It is time to deliver the Miracle of the Riverside. I believe.
YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS! A Rocky shot is parried and Massimo slots it in at the near post in the last minute and I punch the air and then punch Eric in the shoulder too and join in a delirious EIO. Waste of money? yerjokingarnyer! Worth every bloody penny and I take back every single word back I ever wrote about the useless get.
But then there is a scare as suddenly they have men over and they must score. I feel sick. Typical bloody Boro. But Schwarzer turns it over and they have a corner and their keeper is up for the corner and it gets cleared and I am screaming at Massimo to shoot from the halfway line and then the whistle goes and all decorum goes and this is bloody brilliant.
There is a Riverside wide all inclusibe EIO that bonds beery chavs to prim nanas in ecstacy and tears of joy and takes me back to the intensity of the Holgate in that ZDS semi-final against Villa, the joy of the the Liverpool carling Cup semi, the validation and celebration of Cardiff, the pride of Lisbon and the defiance of Rome. This is brilliant. This is a watershed moment of history that will live for ever. History.
And there were only 24,521 here to see it. The absentees have missed out on history. "In the First World War they would hasve been shot for lacking moral fibre," one lifetime diehard leaned over and barked. "I've been supporting them for 52 years and haven't missed a home match in 30 years and that was the BEST moment ever. And they have missed it for the sake of a few pints in the club."
Pints in pub £10. Sky Sports subsciption £34. Match ticket £31. Boro defying logic and the odds to come back from the dead and in a place in the UEFA CUp semi-final... priceless.
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