Valley Parade Concourse, 10:12 AM
It wasn't a matchday, but the energy said otherwise.
Valley Parade didn't hum with chants or the stomp of pre-kickoff drums—it buzzed, low and constant, like electricity under concrete. The kind of noise made by people leaning forward instead of shouting out.
Fans lined the pavement outside the gates, dozens deep by ten o'clock, arms folded against the Yorkshire chill. Scarves peeked out from under autumn coats. School-aged kids clutched autograph books like holy relics. Older supporters shared thermoses and stories, some wearing kit from promotion seasons past.
There was no rush.
No one pushing forward.
They were already where they needed to be.
