It's rare, the first competitive match between Burton Albion & Derby, if you discount the Bass Charity Vase.
It's rare being in Corporate, waited on hand and foot.
It's rare, a near 7,000 capacity, being yards away from the pitch.
It's rare standing at Championship level.
Rare and quaint, it feels like having a young brother, favoured family, how can you not like a ground that serves faggots and peas.
A team with your favourite ex players, a manager called Clough. You can't hate these things. Surely.
Surely we wouldn't lose? Perhaps we might manage a gratuitous draw, honours even and then take the return home leg in style.
Once upon a time. That's how fairy stories go. We write our own.
We flittered and flapped whilst the Brewers got stuck in. They applied themselves. In Akins and O’Grady there's no airs, little graces, but they have a power, a passion, a belief in themselves and their team mates.
Brayford at full back, solid, good distribution, round pegs round holes. Dyer on the left dismissing dalliance and forcing a save from the Derby Keeper.
It was no surprise when O’Grady & Akins combined and Irvine unmarked powered home a header from a cross that wasn't cut out and Burton took a deserved goal lead.
A lead they kept. Comfortably.
Substitutions made for the Rams; we perked up ever so slightly. We still looked as though just by turning up we should win. Misplaced arrogance or contempt who knows, we more than matched the home side in skill but not in effort. Not in desire. Not in application.
We collectively stank quite frankly.
Nigel Clough gave us a treat at the end, he brought Shaun Barker off the bench, our travelling fans raised the roof for our ex-Ram, my hairs prickled. It was worth the admission just to see our hero beat his demons and play again.
The final whistle, hugs for Barker from the White Shirts, cheers from the delirious home supporters and silence at best from the Derby fans who made the short journey.
It's rare to write comments without mentioning a single player from the losing team.
It's no less than they deserve.
Back in corporate, handbags at seven paces in the gents loo, more fight than on the pitch.
It's rare to leave a football ground bereft of feeling. Not pride, not anger, just apathy.
Derby County we salute you. The American Way, head down and walk quickly past looking the other way.
Thanks guys. Now be men and donate your match fee to charity.