The sun shone, the 32,000 stadium looked magnificent nestling as it does among the South Downs hills and the trains to the village of Falmer were heaving with fans in regulation summer short-sleeved replica kits. It was quite a day in Brighton.
For anyone who had peered through the hammer circle netting from the away end at the Withdean Stadium to watch Brighton in the wilderness years, or those fans who had to schlepp to Gillingham when the old Goldstone Ground was sold to stave off liquidation, or for those who were there twenty years ago when Robbie Reinelt’s late goal prevented them falling out of the Football League, it was all barely conceivable.