I was 17, skint and bladdered. Climbed on the loft, punched a hole through to the roof slates and Climbed on the roof and draped my bed sheet Everton 95 cup finalists flag my sister had made for me.
Looking back I probably looked like I was trying to recreate a mini strangeways prison riot of my own.
That header seemed to take an age to go in, Schmeichel booting off at Bruce who didn't jump for it the fat flump, had pulled his hamstring a few minutes earlier.
Always felt we would win that game, what a great cup run that was, even the Newcastle QF at home the atmosphere was amazing.