There are few better places to score a last minute goal than Cardiff.
Fans from Yorkshire and Wales are graceless winners and volatile losers. They celebrate goals with a goading, Neanderthal insolence that has a tendency to leave visitors feeling three inches tall.
By the same token they respond to misfortune with crimson-faced rage and an infallible sense of injustice.
As Forest fans we’ve been at the sharp end of their schadenfreude too many times. And in a season characterised by its pleasant surprises, Lewis’s bullet equaliser was one of the most pleasing yet.
It’s not that we played badly, not by any means. In fact we contained them comfortably in the most part, leaving Lee Camp to sweep up the scraps.
But containment was the order of the day, and when Bothroyd stabbed Cardiff in front I doubted our commitment to the task of wrestling a point from thin air.
We are, after all, a mid-table side.
Or are we? Ugly Billy’s Fuming Warriors are made of stern stuff. Chew us too hard and you’ll chip a tooth.
At long last we have a side capable of winning nastily; churning out results in the face of adversity and leaving opposing supporters feeling robbed, raped and pillaged.
At the same time we are fully capable of playing effeminate triangles that are guaranteed to keep granddad clapping. It’s all too perfect; if our bubble gets any bigger it will burst under its own steam.
But while reality may be lurking, it can’t take away today’s glories.
It can’t take away the bewildered rage of the hosts when Lewis struck.
It can’t take away the fact that it stopped raining so we could walk back to our cars after already soaking hundreds of Welshmen lumbered in the front rows of the stadium.
It can’t take away the fact that Cardiff have demolished their ‘cauldron’ and replaced it with a concrete shell and a lot of plastic.
I recorded the game on Sky+ but I’m not sure if I’ll bother watching it back.
I remember Lewis’ equaliser as an impeccable roundhouse volley, ala Zinedine Zidane in the Champions League Final. I remember the anguish and dismay in several thousand Cardiff faces.
And I remember unashamedly celebrating as if we had actually won the aforementioned Champions League final.
Steve Claridge will only spoil it.
Ratings
Camp – 7.5 – gobbled up most crosses through the swirling winds, made several smart saves and distributed quickly and accurately. What more could we want?
Gunter – 7 – excellent performance against his boyhood club. To deliver such a typically tempestuous display in front of his countrymen sums up the kind of player we have. Top drawer.
Morgan – 7 – solid as a brute.
Wilson – 7 – one or two slack moments, as per Wilson’s custom. But generally he kept things very tight against a notorious strikeforce.
Cohen – 7 – dug in and produced the goods when it was needed.
Moussi – 7 – no magic tricks today but he got the job done. All of a sudden I think there’s a few goals in those trembling feet.
McKenna – 6.5 – the usual guts and simple football, but his distribution was a bit sloppier than normal.
Garner – 5 – Davies has tried to reinvent him in light of competition, but the writing is sadly on the wall.
Majewski – 6.5 – drifted in and out of the game. Sharp when involved.
Anderson – 7 – resorted to falling over in frustration several times, but his pace and quick feet are an excellent outlet.
McGoldrick – 6 – roving behind the strikers he looked capable of carving them open. As lead man up front he lacks the strength, prowess or finish to be successful at this level.
Subs:
McCleary – 7
Adebola – 7
McGugan - 8
