Aston Villa vs Bayern Munich was a date with destiny

For one night, Aston felt like the centre of the universe. A dense gravitational pull swallows all matter and attention into its centre, alchemising a mixture of people, a team and a place into an explosive combination. The end result was a burst of rapturous joy. Something, after all, had to give.

Thousands upon thousands packed into Villa Park, to witness something beautiful, something great.

Aston Villa 1 - 0 Bayern Munich. It's happened - somehow - again.

It was nothing less than a date with destiny, and all of a sudden, one of the biggest days in Aston Villa's history. In our shared history.

An opening salvo in ten match minutes that felt like hours of held back breath beneath suffocating waves. Glimpses of hope, dashed optimism, cries of ‘foul’, errors, snatched and battered glee, resilience, and then one moment - a divine strike from one of Villa’s most promising. Then more, stalwart hands from Villa’s egocentric sentinel at the back.

One of the great sporting days at Villa Park happened before our eyes. We lived it.

It’s a football sun that hangs low in the sky above Brum at around 5pm. A blazing glare that remains powerless against the coming winter chill. When leaves fall, football starts to matter more. It’s not the bullshit results at the imminent start of the season that herald nothing. Everything has an edge now, even if it’s just a perceived one. 

Today is a little different though, it’s not just a match. There's a sense of urgency in the air. A tension, but not an uncomfortable one. Its sharpness is honed with anticipation. Champions League football has arrived in Birmingham. Villa Park, once again, hosts the cream of European football - and in the most ironic fashion.

The last time Villa faced Bayern was in 1982. You know that. I don’t need to tell you what happened, or it’s importance

Back to that urgency. Everything had the slightest spice of stress. Flaked and dusted with it. More traffic then usual when you're running back from work? Aye. Trains full? You bet. No taxis available? Hell yes. The day felt longer. The commute felt more stressful. Your mind was on something else, wasn’t it? Villa fans don't make up the population of an entire city. But for one night it felt like the whole city was heading into one place - bullshit, of course - but the feeling was there.

By the time you head into Villa Park, the sun is already gone, replaced by a night sky where only the stars can shine and dance alongside the moon. It sets the stage for fireworks to launch off of the roof of one of football's true cathedrals. It sets the stage for Villa's players to become stars, and for us to witness their rise. As flags wave, the moment hits.

You know, it was all about the music wasn't it? The branding. The ball. The black stars on a white ball. We've attached anticipation to it, and colossal meaning. It's somewhat imcomprehensible, and it's almost a shame when Villa fans belt out Allez, Allez, Allez so loud that nothing can be heard. That was it, we missed it. We didn't care - but we did. We were too noisy, too anxious, too ready.

Then it strikes, and the stadium is silent. Just listening.

"Die Meister! Die Besten! Les grandes équipes!"

Then, a brummie chorus.

"The champions!"

Utterly weaponised branding. Utterly brilliant moments. I'd heard it once, in Bern - but I could swear tears were growing at the corner of my eyes. Villa had already played Champions League football this season - they'd already won the bloody trophy for crying out loud - but it felt like it started afresh here.

Reality never sat us back down in our seats. This is a canon event in our history - much as it was six years ago to the day. You were in the same place, watching the same colours, but it was all different. Villa were stale, dull, an also ran. Amongst a missed penalty, we looked to the future and six years on, we found ourselves in it. In disbelief.

We hold on. We block. We fall down. We get up. We score. We agonise because it's not a real goal.

Raw voices, teary eyes, all rallying in unity.

It's nights like this, for moments, where the Holte End becomes a thing. Where it breathes, quakes, sighs and rolls in symphony conducted by those who stand atop it. A living hilltop erupting into volcanic ecstasy. Ageless concrete bounces beneath your feet and all you can do is hold on and let it take you where it wants to go.

We hold on again. We anger. We rage. We fight. We score. We explode.

Bodies fall over, hands grip at your face, your heart fights against your ribcage, you can't feel anything except fabric, you see flashes of faces and grins and fists in the air. You can't catch your fucking breath. You shake.

We defend. We save.

Your grip on the railing is white-knuckle now. Every shot against is greeted with agonising screams. You need this. The story cannot be spoiled. It's too good to end in mutual acclaim. This is your night.

We win.

It felt right. It felt perfect. It felt like we were a true 'we' in every sense. 'Tourists', 'same old faces', 'moaners', 'happy clappers'. We were all just Villa.

I pray that we get that feeling again. That a match matters as much as that. That it brings us all together as much as it did.

But I won't mind the wait, because we've got something to take home with us. A story.

And one day, you - like those who ferried over to Rotterdam in '82 - will have a that story for the ages. The tale of how they were reintroduced to the European limelight by Bayern Munich, and how they beat them. Again. It's one to tell your grandkids.

It's not the same. It's nowhere near the same. But it's what we have, and it's so real.