Just 24 hours earlier, Spain defeated Germany to be crowned champions of some mickey-mouse tournament in Austria but, world-wide, true footballing scholars knew that the real drama was to take place a day later on the Duncreggan Road.

Cup finals have a strange impact on football fans. I think it probably stems from when we were children and they approached towards the end of a long season. As a youngster, cup finals took on a huge significance because they happened so infrequently. To a five-year-old, the next cup final seems a lifetime away once it has finished. That's because when you're five, one year constitutes a fifth of your entire life. That percentage gradually - and greatly - diminshes until the years flicker by with alarming regularity. Eventually, unless you're a John Motson-esque footballing nerd, the ability to remember what teams were involved becomes something of a conundrum - not to mention remembering the names of goalscorers.

Sitting watching the FA Cup final at home with my dad was a special treat. We had the living room and TV to ourselves and, even if the game wasn't much of a spectacle, the event usually was. Coverage began on TV a good 2 1/2 hours before the game kicked off and "Motty" would tell the viewer at least twenty times about 'the magic of the FA Cup' before 3 o'clock.

As hopes of playing in an actual FA Cup final die, it's up to football enthusiasts to organise their own tournaments in search of glory, albeit on a smaller scale.

And so it was that employees from Zavvi organised the inaugural Foyleside Cup, which was played every Monday night during June.
Eight teams signed up to participate in the competition with proceeds going to local charity 'Children in Crossfire'.
Having seen off Gillen Fuels in the quarter finals, and defeated Zavvi in the semis, glory was but 90minutes away as the 'Journal' team lined up to face Waterloo Street's darkest forces in the shape of 'The Boundfer' on Monday.

Butterflies

I was in Zavvi on Saturday afternoon when a familiar voice said: "Have ye seen it? You could have this in your hands on Monday night!"

A member of staff was holding the Zavvi Cup aloft and, bizarrely, I felt a couple of butterflies in my stomach.

At work on Monday, 'the match' dominated conversation as we discussed possible formations, tactics and substitutions. Everybody had an opinion and everybody deemed their own to be the definitive one. Looking back, it's bizarre how much the upcoming game was affecting us and how "in" to it we were.

After back-to-back wins, spirits were high and the excitment was palpable during the warm-up.

A motley crew from the sports department, general reporting staff, page make-up and a few outsiders united behind a common goal - victory.
We tried to take inspiration from the stylishly lethal play perpetrated by the Spanish national team during their successful exploits at the European championships. Unfortunately, seeing something on TV and trying to replicate it on the astro-turf at Magee was a bridge too far for the pride of Buncrana Road.

He shoots! He puts it wide...

Despite our best efforts we lost 2-0, but refused to go down without a fight (ahem, Michael Wilson and Jim McCafferty).

Rumours had been circulating around the office all week that our forward line was to receive an injection of class and quality from Derry City legend (and Sunday Journalist columnist) Liam Coyle. That never materialised and our inability to hit the back of the net was to cost us by the time the referee blew for full time.

Family, friends and colleagues came along to show their support but, in the end, we all went home disappointed. On Tuesday morning, the post-mortem took place and theories whizzed round the office as to how, and why, we lost. Opportunities to score were relatively few and far between and I'll maintain 'til my deathbed that the chance which fell to me was at an impossible angle, that it came to quick, that it bobbled awkwardly and that the sun was in my eyes...all at the same time.

And, as I've been telling anyone who'll listen, even bloody Fernando Torres can miss from six yards!

The history books may remember 'Bound For Boston' as the actual winners of the tournament but those who were there will, no doubt, remember the superior looks and charm that oozed from the 'Journal' men in their delightful canary-yellow shirts.

Redemption may come sooner than expected. The 'Journal' team could be back on the field for the Glenside Cup in a few weeks time and, this time, we don't plan on coming second.