Written by Jason McKeown (images by John Dewhirst)

There’s a dog decked out in a Bradford City shirt. There’s a guy in a flat cap and a 2006/07 relegation top holding a can of beer in the air, embarking on some of the greatest dad dancing you will ever see. There are flares – so many flares, with the colours fusing together to create a claret and amber cloud. There’s a Bradford City flag nearby city hall, fluttering majestically in the breeze.

Tuesday evening in the centre of Bradford is usually pretty quiet. Certainly not a big going out night. But on this Tuesday here in the weak May sunshine, Centenary Square is absolutely rammed. Thousands of people have descended on City Park, which since its creation in 2011 has acted as the centre piece of the entire city. The mirror pool has been drained so that it can be filled up instead with beaming smiles.

And everywhere you look, the colours of claret and amber are on show. The air is filled with laughter, air horns and chanting. There are cheers and there is contentment. Families are sharing in the moment. Friends are laughing together. Strangers are bumping into strangers. Handshakes, high fives, hugs and vibes.

As we wait patiently for the open top buses to arrive, the Bantams of the Opera clan embarks on a mini-set that is warmly appreciated. There’s a DJ playing uplifting songs, from Primal Scream to Sam Fender, Junior Senior to Chumbawamba. And every time there is a pause, a music festival-style crowd bounces up and down while bellowing “City’s going up”.

Eventually, we’re told the open top buses have arrived. You can’t actually see them from inside the bowels of the mirror pool. But they’d made their way from Valley Parade, up Manningham Lane, along Manor Row, past Upper Piccadilly and eventually down Goodwin Street. Travelling slowly and carefully past the masses of delighted fans.

The players disembark from the bus and sprint to the top of the pavilion area, above the Cake‘ole shop. They line up side by side, drinking in the incredible sight of their adoring public. The coaching staff and other club employees join them. Because this is a team effort that goes beyond the team. And everyone involved deserves to get a balcony view of the scenes they’ve played their part in creating.

And what scenes they are. A roar of approval from the masses as they greet their heroes. Pride radiates from everyone. A collective buzz of gratification over what has been achieved. “Take Me Home Midland Road” is played over the speakers, and everyone sings along.

Then it’s time for interviews. First up the council lord mayor is asked to say a few words. Everyone boos. The mic is passed to the true mayor of this city – Graham Alexander – who describes the scenes as “sensational”. He jokes about how he hasn’t stopped partying since Saturday night, and has no intention of stopping for the rest of this week. “I always tell my players to commit,” he chuckles over the way they’ve kept the celebrations going. “Commit to Saturday, commit to Sunday, commit to Monday, commit to Tuesday!”

And what’s your message to the fans Graham? “Commit to the week!” Sure. Whatever you say boss. I guess we all better ring in sick today, so we can get back out on the lash!

The players start to each get a turn sharing their reflections of the last few days. But soon the mic is stolen from the compere, and the players start chants that are gleefully joined in with by the crowd. “Super Sam Walker in goal”. “Let me hear you say Tayo”. “Der-der-der-der – Jamie Walker.” Someone revives the old Colin Doyle chant, but with a modern twist. “Colin Doyle, he cost us a quid. Colin Doyle, it should have been less!” And then Calum Kavanagh channels his inner Adele and everyone laughs.

Only football and sport can do this. Bradford is a fractured city. Riddled with economic and social problems. Struggling to redress its poor reputation. There is division and there is conflict. But here for one night at least, there is unity.

And in the year when the Capital of Culture crown is worn above the city’s head, those tasked with making BfD2025 matter should be thanking their lucky stars for this opportunity. Because as much as lots of great and worthy things are taking place across the city in 2025, nothing is going to capture the public imagination quite like this. And it’s a glaring error, really, that the official programme of BfD2025-organised cultural events ignored the culture of Bradford sport.

But fine, don’t invite us to the party, we’ll just turn up and start our own anyway. The gap in the official events for sport filled impressively here. A city brought together in a way that no other event could.

So we cheer and we sing and some of us dance and many of us drink and no one really wants to go home. Because by going home this party – and the incredible feelings of joy that have engulfed us since 4.56pm on Saturday – will start to fade. And really, this is kind of the end of this moment. The last gathering. The end of the celebrations. The end of this glorious escapism from the humdrum of everyday life, which now we have no real choice but to return to.

But even as the grey reality of 9-5 firmly returns, and we slowly come back down to Earth, there is so much to look forward to for Bradford City and us supporters.

A summer break to recharge batteries, lit up by the late June release of the fixture list that will make much better reading than the last six years were. Goodbye Harrogate, hello Huddersfield. No more Colchester, we’re off to Cardiff. Until next time Bromley, we’re heading back to Bolton. Before all that, pre-season fixtures that are only a matter of weeks away. The new dawn will be here before we know it.

Who knows what the next chapter will look like? But if City can somehow bottle up the emotions and energy of the last few weeks, build on the incredible supporter enthusiasm and the explosion of interest in the club, and if they can take this positive momentum into next season, the sky really is the limit.

The future is ours. The future is claret and amber.

Categories: Opinion

Tags: 2024/25, BCAFC