Bradford were game, but could not cope with Swansea's pace, passing and movement and could have lost more heavily
In pictures: Tom Jenkins's gallery from Wembley
Anyway, that's about us - thanks for your company and emails, sorry I couldn't use them all. Bye.
Just as the supporters attempt to enjoy the moment, the stadium announcer imposes bellowing. Monk and Williams will lift the trophy together, and do so in low-key fashion. Who'd have thought, a football club run by and for those who constitute it, doing well?
Swansea form a rugby-style guard of honour as Bradford come down the steps, which every agrees is lovely, and then, suddenly, Swansea are walking up them. Walk and step, step and walk.
Swansea prepared to ascend. Twitter collapses in a hilarity of John Terry gags and memes.
Bradford have donned their commemorative tracky tops and shaking the various front-rowed hands.
I'd paraphrase the contents of the various interviews, but you just can't contemplate this stuff second-hand. Assume general happiness.
Michael Laudrup is pleased, we glean from his interview.
SWANSEA CITY WIN THE CAPITAL ONE CUP!
Just when Bradford thought they'd been spared, Swansea increase the pace. Michu thunders a shot that's beaten away, then Routledge unfurls a curler from the left side of the box that raps the bar, and then De Guzman slides in Rangel's cross. Dyer sticks yet another pin in a doll of De Guzman's pet rabbit, Jonathan de Guzman.
90 min Matt Duke is back on the bench, in his suit and with wet hair, looking pensive. But in retrospect, though, why not? There's little finer than a good trip, well-executed.
89 min Time is elapsing.
86 min Bradford win a corner, their first of the game. Prior to it, Phil Parkinson was bullish about the threat his team posed from them - but in the event, it's been irrelevant. The ball is his hard to the penalty spot area, and Ashley Williams gets his car-boot head to it first, glancing it away. More patronising of Bradford. it's just so...so cute, they cute way they've accepted this beating with tantrums and crying. A credit to their parents and their school. All are proud.
84 min Tiendali replaces Davies. Bradford are a little haggard and woebegone now; the squirrel’s granary is full, and the harvest’s done.
83 min The passing takes them into the box, Hernandez, Michu and Routledge combining. But they lost the thread and tempo, forced to go backwards.
82 min Swansea are doing more of that passing - they might just have retired now.
80 min Lesson to be learned: middling Premier League managers who don't play their first XI in cup competitions would benefit from the gift of a good hiding.
77 min Nathan Dyer goes off to deposit francium in Jonathan de Guzman's shoes.
76 min Stuart reckons that "Michu should say 'striking intellectual' on his Soulmates profile. Basically the good option of Marilyn and Einstein's child."
Marilyn as in the former Le Tissier squeeze? That would be quite a combination of genes.
74 min The patronising platitudes are in full spew. Football is the winner and in perspective, which is what what it would've wanted.
72 min Dyer, desperate for a hat-trick, lashes a hopeful shot over the bar as Hines replaces one of his team-mates. A desk of football writers is unable to know which. Lazy journalism; the acme of.
69 min Thirty seconds of Pablo Hernandez: first sending Darby left and right with wriggling hips, then seconds later diddling McHugh on the byline with further sidewinding activity, before running into trouble.
69 min The look on Phil Parkinson's coupon. It could turn milk that had already turned.
66 min "'It was inverted'? Did the tribes of Israel change their formation, perhaps inspired by architecture in Egypt?" (sorry) wonders Ryanne Dunne. "I thought Purim was the holiday where everyone had to get as bevvied as possible..........that's better than Lent!"
It's true, the Talmud says one should drink "until you don't know," which is a beautiful turn of phrase.
65 min Swansea are not slowing down, determined to collect as many humiliating goals as possible.
63 min Club captain Monk replaces Ki, and prior to the penalty, McLoughlin, the sub keeper, came on for Wells.
61 min Swansea are all over this, subliming straight back into the Bradford area, left side, where a ball fired to Dyer at a tricky height is touched off to Michu with a heel, like it's nothing, and he convulses into another clever effort, shooting immediately, and watching as is zips only just wide.
De Guzman approaches the ball slowly and curls one into the side-netting, dashing off blowing kisses to the crowd at the extent of this incredible show of epochal magnificence. He and poor, bedressed, hat-trickless Dyer share a hug and a kiss. Moving stuff.
Oh dear. Another speeding, swooping Swansea move, with Michu sliding a ball through to Routledge, who rounds Duke, sending him the wrong way. For reasons unlikely known even to himself - other than for fun - Duke tripped him with his legs, and was dismissed. Meanwhile, Dyer and De Guzman are ruckussing over who gets to take the penalty. De Guzman wins.
55 min Here's a moral dilemma: given that the game's won and there's not even a goal difference issue, would the noble thing be for Swansea declare, or to carry on going?
54 min Irrelevant Rory McArdle trivia: the McNulty character in The Wire was originally called McArdle.
52 min There's still hope: today is the Jewish festival of Purim, whose motto is 'venahafokh hu', which translates as 'it was inverted'. In other words, lump on Bradford.
49 min I'm fairly sure I can't cope with where this is all going. "You get the newly-created Ray Hudson award," says David Farrelly. "You get this newly created award, for the use of " numinous," apparently in context. Despite its latin origins there seems to be no Spanish equivalent. Anyone?"
Certainly not me.
This is an absolutely hunksome, winsome piece of goal. Dyer, picking up possession wide on the right and not that far off halfway, dashed forward and raced a low ball into Michu, who pulled away and over it at the last second - nutmegging himself - and letting it run to Routledge. Now slightly left-of-centre, he drilled an instapass back right, right at Dyer, as Michu took evasive action and Dyer stepped inside Good, before roasting a curler high into the far corner.
Another splendid goal.
46 min Football is taking place once more. Bradford have brought Davies on for Good. He won't ever be taken off.
"At the risk of flogging the dead horse," excuses Matt Dony, "it's more a fascination with how things come across to others. Reciting gothic poetry seemed natural at the time, but when my wife asked what I was doing, I suddenly felt both stoopid and pretentious. Likewise, I'm sure Phil genuinely loves Debussy, but if his mates in the pub ask what he's been listening to, he's gonna get grief. It's a funny old world..."
Half-time aggravation housekeeping, with Phil Podolsky: "Christ, this is what I'm talking about: my rant about thickos that use 'pretentious' and 'hipster' indiscriminately is being construed as an attack on pretension (I'm writing a thesis on Joyce and my favourite music is Debussy and Prokofiev, for crying out loud)."
And announcing it. But your point could also be read as an attack on meaningless pretension, rather than pretension itself. Not no mo.
Bradford have actually made a decent fist of this - Swansea haven't peppered their goal, or even made that many chances. The problem is that every now and again, they've not shown the resources to cope with the additional class. Britton is pretty much deciding what happens in midfield, and the pace and movement of the three wingers is pulling defenders hither and thither, opening up the space in which Michu operates - and it's Michu who's been the principal difference between the teams. His dextrous snap-shot created the first goal and the one he scored himself was the work of a real striking intellectual.
"At half-time, it's Bradford City nil, Swansea City two, announces the stadium announcer, or put another way, he thinks the audience are thick.
45 min There shall be a solitary additional minute.
45 min Phew, for a minute there I lost myself - this football can be quite distracting sometimes, but here's James Womack righting us. "If we're doing Russian pop this afternoon, allow me to recommend this jaunty number, which contains good advice for Bradford fans."
A double-nutmeg special! This is a really scrumptious goal. If it was a cringeworthy extended metaphor, I'd guzzle it whole and ask for seconds. Britton, central and perhaps forty yards from goal, threaded a pass through Jones' legs from bare distance, finding Michu alone in the box on the left-hand side. Showing unreal composure, he assessed the scene, reclined, and flipped a low, left footed shot with impeccable geometry through a further set of legs - McArdle's I think - and past Duke into the far corner. He's a smart man.
38 min Good curls a ball into Wells, who turns his body and sticks it in front of Ki to accept possession, so Ki lumps into him and sends him spinning to the grass with an instruction to eat mat, earning a booking for his trouble.
35 min McArdle sells Duke short with a backpass, and he nips out to clunk is clear as Michu closes in. Inspired, Jones then does the same, and the same happens. It's been a while since Bradford have mustered any kind of threat - Swansea's hand is on their forehead and their arms are too short to land any shots.
33 min Steve Johnson emails in to let us know about his dad, BS, "who would have said 'telling stories is telling lies' - only write about the truth, what you know. As a Chelsea fan he would also have said 'sport is also about the truth - that pain and hopelessness exist here too...'"
What does BS stand for again? Anyway, a story is a lie that tells the truth, no?
31 min Swansea force a corner from the left, aimed at the near post, that's headed clear by McHugh. The ball drops to Britton, in numinous solitude on the edge of the box, and watching it onto his laces, he hits across a right-footed drive that spins high and wide.
30 min Calling Mrs Dony! Calling Mrs Dony! Michael Bertin is grassing you right up: "Re Matt Dony," he begins. "I think you've got other problems besides pretension when you are reading a poem to your infant son that was possibly based on the marriage to a 13-year-old first cousin."
His son is a Foucauldian, it's fine.
27 min Swansea knock the ball around, backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards. What they're doing really well, though, in injecting sudden bursts of pace, and it's that which is troubling Bradford, who are fairly composed otherwise.
25 min Leon Britton accepts possession and pirouettes beautifully in the middle of the pitch to start another attack. He seems a much better player than Joe Allen, except that Brendan knows.
22 min Here's the thing with Bradford. They've responded well to going behind, as they started well - but it's seems inconceivable that Swansea won't locate the extra kwalitee here and there to score again. And they nearly do, Rangel scooting down the right and propping up a cross that forces a corner.
22 min Gabriel Piller has some natantbantz: "The Soviet National anthem: hands-down the BEST national anthem. EVER. Period. Of course, being Canadian, pretty much anything is better than "O Canada" so maybe my somewhat boisterous opinion should be taken with a grain of salt. I have a soft spot for Paul Robeson's version too".
19 min "I'm not great with stories," laments Matt Dony. "The other day, my wife (yes, I have got a wife!) walked in to find me reciting Annabel Lee by Poe to our 14 month old son. Is that pretentious, Phil?
More so than emailing in? We await the judgment of the Podolsky jury.
Bradford get excited, throwing a few men forward and when they lose it, Swansea break, Wayne 'the machzor' Rotledge tearing through centrefield and finding Michu on the left of the area. He fires across the ball and across Duke, a low shot that's well-directed enough to force a desperate dive, Duke pushing wide, but Dyer is following up and rolls into the empty net, before exposing happiness.
14 min As Swansea pass the ball to each other, Pablo quickens it up, firing a low, hard ball into Michu who deflects it back to him, but too firmly for him to control. Eventually, the ball finds its way to Rangel on the right, and from maybe 40 yards out, he outswings a looping cross towards the back post, where Davies runs at it and heads wide from fifteen or so yards.
12 min Just as Michu fails to control a hopeful ball aimed at him by Pablo, Simon McMahon is off out, and wants YOU to know. "Off out to watch Dundee United play Hibs. Half 4 on a Sunday. Well done to whoever scheduled that one."
But you do get to enjoy perhaps the finest football jerseys in the UK. Green and orange, that's almost a traffic light party.
10 min Bradford will be happy with how things have begun here. Swansea have managed a couple of crosses, but otherwise Bradford remain unracked, and certainly aren't frightened.
9 min Ryanne Dunne isnae having Seamus' story. "Jet pack?! Escape?! Come on, Darth Vader could beat Captain Hook, who just has a hook and a wig, nae bother! Seamus ought to introduce more realism into his childhood stories. Hulk vs Superman, say, is a fairly-matched contest."
That's just a fight, though - Hook is about cunning and improvisation.
7 min Routledge appears to be playing centrally, with Pablo on the left and Dyer on the right. It's an interested wrinkle, this - three wingers - and surprising that no one's tried it much before, because it can't be easy to mark.
6 min Bradford mustered a small possession flurry, but we're now back to tiki-taffa.
4 min Swansea turn the Bradford left flank again, Rangel seeking Michu in the middle - he'd pulled back and off his marker, fnarr, fnarr etcetera - but overhits it by quite some amount, and the crowd chortle into their liquid platinum Bovrils.
3 min As a father myself dept: here's Seamus Devlin. "Re stories...my early morning story to my 3 year old finished with Darth Vader putting on a jet pack to escape Captain Hook. Not sure if that's a happy ending or not."
It depends where he ended up, I'd say.
1 min Swansea are stroking it around, Bradford sitting off them in their own half and providing as much clutter as possible in their own. Rangel and Dyer work the ball at quite some speed down the right flank, and the latter's attempted cross is deflected behind for a corner that come to nowt.
1 min We've started!
Some stern thoughts from Phil Podolsky, who is stern and thoughtful. "Is today's game one for football hipsters?" he pretends to ask, before, garrycooking an answer of sorts."A tedious coinage this, the sole raison d'être of which is offering nuance-averse football folk a noun for 'pretentious' of more than four letters. Though of less letters than such 'pretentious' word as aesthete, which is what they really have in mind. The key features of hipsterdom (fashion, gadgets, consumerism etc) are completely irrelevant in this context, not to mention the basic incompatibility of irony with tribal allegiances."\
I'll leave that one with you.
And here in marvellous reggae, talking of which, why are national anthems not in the style of national music - reggae for Jamaica, kwaito for South Africa, hi-life for Ghana and so on?
In the absence of the national anthem
I've written my own tributehere's a different one, which also doubles as the finest pop song of all-time.
The trophy appears into the ground, on the wings of wingless minotaurs made from lawnmower parts that are also extracts of Robin Cousins' spleen. Now we know there's a game going on.
Science and mathematics with Russell Benson: "2 years ago.. I was at Wembley for Birmingham's glorious victory as huge underdogs! We beat Villa en route to the final (hehe) and another team in claret and blue in the semi-final (West Ham!). Our initials are also BCFC. Might as well give Bradford the cup now!
I'll take that - I'm off home.
Eyebrows. Bradford's Joe Johnson, with possibly the masters of the genre.
Things that do not receive the adulation they deserve: Well,
me, obviously Bradford's Tamsin Archer, responsible for my pop sound of the 90s.
First email of the afternoon, and it's only Bobby Gardiner! "Thoughts on Ki at centre back? I've bought a noose."
Ki 'Ki', you mean. It's a significant heel to the solar plexus for Bartley and Monk isn't it? I think Laudrup's after someone to bring the ball forward and start attacks, but it's still a surprising call.
"Wembley is a big pitch," notes insight's Chris Coleman. "And smaller than both the Liberty Stadium and Valley Parade", he does not continue.
If you do only one thing today, caress your soul by reading Garry Monk's guide to his team-mates. Itay 'Itay' Shechter's nickname is Itay.
And here's Matt Duke's guide to the Bradford boyz.
And for those unfamiliar with pointed nickname:
Swansea: Tremmel, Rangel, Ki, Williams (c), Davies, Britton, de Guzman, Routledge, Dyer, Hernandez, Michu.
Subs: Vorm, Monk, Tiendalli, Shechter, Agustien, Lamah, Moore.
Bradford: Duke, Darby, McArdle, McHugh, Good, Thompson, Doyle, Jones (c), Atkinson, Hanson, Wells.
Subs: Reid, McLaughlin, Ravenhill, Connell, Hines, Turgott, Davies.
Let's have some teams:
Swansea: Brother; Barry Chuckle, Ki, Car-boot head, Ben; Mickey Pearce off Only Fools and Horses, Jonno; Weezy, Chris Rock, Pabs; Shaggy off Scooby Doo.
Subs: Vorm, Bradley off EastEnders, Tiendalli, Itay, Mr T, Lamah, Mr Chill.
Bradford: Duke; Ken Barlow, The busiest man in football, McHugh, Good; Thompson, Doyley, Jones, Atkinson; Wells; Big Unit.
Subs: Reid, McLaughlin, Ravenhill, Connell, Chris Rock, Turgott, Davies.
So, the headline news is that though he's breaking a record in being the first man to simultaneously represent both sides in the same game, Chris Rock starts for Swansea but only makes the Bradford bench. A man is only as faithful as his options, and all that.
Preamble Humans have an innate psychological craving for stories; telling them, hearing them, watching them, thinking about them, talking about them and being in them. The problem, though, is that all the true ones involving real people - us - are tragedies. There's no such thing as life with a happy ending. Instead, we reluctantly become ex-people, hurled into the abyss of nothingness with everything else that doesn't exist.
Sport, on the other hand, is compelling, pretend, and infinite, everything life isn't that we wish it was, which is why we love it so much. There's no personality profile of the archetypal sports obsessive because sport crystallises the stuff everyone has in common - which does exist, much as it's comforting to pretend otherwise.
And what's about to happen here between Bradford and Swansea is the very zenith of this sport thing. Even if nothing really happens at all, it'll be better than most other things. Selah!