by Sam Hawcroft
Hull City are back in the Premier League after a 95th-minute Oli McBurnie winner sent the Tigers into the top flight and sparked scenes of jubilation at Wembley and across the city.
McBurnie struck deep into added time to secure a 1-0 victory over Middlesbrough in the Championship play-off final, capping an extraordinary season under Sergej Jakirovic and delivering a promotion few would have predicted when City were fighting to stay up only 12 months ago.
The late winner brought a chaotic week to a perfect end for City, after Southampton’s expulsion from the play-offs over the “Spygate” affair and Boro’s late reinstatement threatened to overshadow the build-up.
By the final whistle, though, all of that had been swept away.
Hull City had their moment, their Wembley winner and their place back in the big time.
But before the explosion of noise and limbs in the 95th minute, there had been a long, draining afternoon of heat, nerves and tension.
The heady smell of sweat and polyester grew stronger as the match wore on at Wembley last Saturday, with black and amber shirts, and a few more retro hues besides, clinging to backs and nerves becoming almost too much to bear.
It was insanely hot, tense and, for long spells, hardly a classic.
Middlesbrough had plenty of the ball, albeit lacking any serious threat on goal, and extra time and even the dreaded penalties seemed to be looming.
Then, in the fifth minute of added time, Yu Hirakawa’s cross was pushed out by keeper Sol Brynn and Oli McBurnie did what Oli McBurnie has done all season.
He was there. One touch, one finish, one explosion of black and amber delirium.
Hull City 1, Middlesbrough 0.
Premier League. Again.
It was gloriously, ridiculously typical Hull City.
The sort of moment that will now sit alongside Dean Windass in 2008 and Mo Diame in 2016, even if McBurnie’s finish was rather more opportunistic than spectacular. That will not matter a jot. Wembley winners do not have to be beautiful. They just have to go in.
Lest we forget, the build-up had been absurd beyond belief. Hull had spent the week preparing for Southampton, only for the Saints to be expelled from the play-offs over the “Spygate” affair after admitting to illegally filming opponents’ training sessions. Their appeal failed, Middlesbrough were reinstated and suddenly City had to shift focus at barely any notice.
For days, the final felt in danger of becoming about lawyers, appeals, precedents and who should or should not have been allowed to stand beneath the Wembley arch. As late as Thursday, City fans still weren’t entirely sure whether the match would even be on Saturday – would it have to be postponed to give Boro more time to buy tickets and sort travel and accommodation?
The answer, thankfully, was no, and it’s to Boro’s great credit that they swiftly mobilised and headed down the M1 in their thousands.
But now, for the Tigers at least, all that is forgotten. McBurnie has seen to that.
In years to come, nobody will gather in pubs to talk about the arbitration panel.
They will talk about the ball dropping in the box, McBurnie sniffing danger and the split second before the Hull City end realised what had happened.
They will talk about the unbelievable “limbs”, and the players piling towards the supporters. They will talk about hometown hero Lewie Coyle lifting the trophy, about the mad, beautiful scenes that followed in London, on the trains home, around Hull Marina, in the city centre and finally at Hull City Hall, where thousands turned out to welcome home a team that has somehow become one of the most likeable City sides in many years.
This is the new crazy gang.
Matt Crooks, Charlie Hughes, Lewie Coyle, McBurnie, Regan Slater and the rest have dragged a fanbase back into love with its club. The pictures and videos of them celebrating in pubs, on buses and among supporters have been a joy to behold.
McBurnie on the tour bus, bottle aloft, flare in mouth, looking like a man who had personally decided sleep could wait until the Premier League fixtures were out, may already have produced one of the great Hull City images. What a man. What an image. What a free signing!
And what an achievement by Sergej Jakirovic.
There are managers who win awards because their teams are expected to win. Then there are managers who arrive at a club that stayed in the Championship by the width of goal difference, work under a transfer embargo, build a squad out of free transfers, loans and sheer dogged belief and end the season on the Wembley balcony.
As he joked at Hull City Hall: “When I arrived here, I was given one task – stay in the Championship. I failed!”
If there is a manager of the year in spirit, never mind on any official voting form, it is surely him.
What he has done is nothing short of incredible.
This time last year, City were looking over their shoulder at League One. This year, they are looking at Anfield, Old Trafford, the Emirates and Match of the Day, hopefully not last every week.
The club that was trying to survive is now back in the division that changes everything.
The financial importance is huge. Promotion is worth at least £200 million when broadcast income, commercial revenue and parachute payments are taken into account. That will matter to the club, the owner, the budget and the recruitment meetings that are already looming.
But, of course, it matters beyond the balance sheet.
It puts Hull back on the national map every weekend. It brings television cameras, visiting supporters, hotel bookings, packed pubs and a sense of place that football can still generate like little else. Somewhere, no doubt, the fake City shirts will start appearing again in Tenerife, which is as good a measure of global reach as any Deloitte report.
For a city that has spent years fighting tired old jokes and lazy outside perceptions, Premier League football is a shop window. Hull City knew that in 2008, when Windass’s volley against Bristol City took the club into the top flight for the first time in its history.
The 2013 promotion under Steve Bruce was different again, sealed on a bonkers final day at the then-KC Stadium. It was followed by an FA Cup final, a flirtation with Europe and the sort of moments previous generations of City fans had never imagined would belong to them.
Then came 2016. Another Wembley win, another 1-0, another wonder goal. Yet the celebrations around Diame’s strike against Sheffield Wednesday were, relatively speaking, muted. A considerable number of supporters stayed away. The Allam era, the Hull Tigers debacle and the wider disconnect between club and fans had drained a lot of joy out of what should have been a golden day.
Even Hull’s City of Culture year felt like a missed open goal for the club. At the very moment the city was showing itself off to the world, its football club was still tangled in a dispute about identity, ownership and the word “City” itself. For a club whose name should have been stitched into that civic pride, it was painful.
That is why this feels far closer to 2008 than 2016.
This time, Hull can breathe it in properly. This time, the club and the city seem to be facing the same way. This time, the noise is not muffled by boycotts, bitterness or boardroom arguments.
Even the little details felt right. The Dolphin pub near King’s Cross being turned into Fer Ark for the weekend was perfect Hull City humour – a nod to the old Boothferry Park sign that lost so many lights that only those letters remained.
There will be sober conversations soon enough.
The Premier League is brutal. City will need quality, depth and a recruitment summer close to perfect.
The squad that has carried them up may lack top-flight polish in places, and the jump is bigger than it has ever been.
But spirit is not a small thing – this team has it by the bucketload. It has characters and leaders who seem to genuinely enjoy each other. It has a seriously chilled-out manager who has made light of problems that might have sunk someone else. It has a fanbase that is fully awake again.
Stranger things have happened than Hull City making a fight of it next season.
For now, though, the hard work can wait a little longer. The spreadsheets, transfer lists and reality checks will still be there next week, next month.
This has been a golden age for Hull City fans, even if it has not always felt like one at the time. Three Premier League promotions, Wembley wins, an FA Cup final, European nights and now one of the most improbable play-off triumphs of the lot.
There are supporters who went decades without seeing anything like this. Now there is a generation that has grown up thinking trips to Wembley and promotions to the Premier League are part of the natural order.
They are not. They are precious. So, soak it up.
Wear the shirt. Watch Oli’s goal for the 1,000th time. Smile at the millions of daft videos on social media. Enjoy McBurnie being McBurnie. Enjoy Coyle lifting that trophy. Enjoy Sergej apologising for failing upwards.
Hull City are back in the Premier League.
Up the Tigers!