Elementary, My Dear Watson

Finally, redemption for a Wigan hero who battled against the odds to recover from a broken leg and watch with tears in his eyes as the plucky little club from Nowheresville lifted the FA Cup. Good on you, Ben Watson.

His majestic glancing header was a blow for oppressed ginger-haired people everywhere and provided a big reality slap for Manchester City and outgoing gaffer Roberto Mancini.

Listening to any range of pundits, bookies and managers, one team were merely turning up to enjoy the day, take a few snaps of Wembley and hopefully get to keep their suits.

Turns out that was City. This was a cup final display as limp as a sodden cheese straw and as disinterested as any I can remember, with the usual silk of David Silva and drive of Yaya Toure blunted by the might of Roger Espinoza and Antolin Alcaraz. Oh, the shame, and oh, the hilarity.

As for Roberto's opposite Roberto, this is the crowning glory in what has been a four-year audition for a top job. But with the cup final out of the way, it is now onto the real cup final - a must-win clash with Arsenal. But that is for Tuesday.

For now, let us bask in the euphoria of their achievement and allow the final word to go to man of the match Callum McManaman, who summed it up thus: Interviewer: "Did you believe you could win when you stepped out onto the pitch?" McManaman: "Yes." Interviewer: "So, how does it feel now?" McManaman: "I can't believe it."

Tricky Vicky

Wigan's wizardry was also, it seems, the final act of an eventful three years in charge at Manchester City for your friend and mine, the permanently-scarfed Roberto Mancini.

Eminently more talented, City's collective failure boiled down to a lack of motivation among their players, summed up by Mancini's indifferent attempt at lambasting their shamefulness. "They did not run a lot," was all he could muster to explain the inexplicable.

By the time he'd sloped into his post-match press conference, though, he was ready to roll, but the focus of his ire was City's happy-go-lucky press officer Vicky Kloss, who shifted uncomfortably in the same room as Roberto blamed her for not shutting down the sack stories, as if she could physically reach into the editorial offices of AS, and wipe their "Pellegrini to City", exclusive off the face of the earth. Not once, it appears, did Roberto consider that the stories are everywhere because they might be true.

But before any overblown sympathy starts to pour forth, let us not forget that he climbed into bed with City knowing exactly their penchant for ruthlessness. After all, he sat happily in the stands to witness Mark Hughes' final game in charge, knowing he would soon have the keys to Sheikh Mansour's pot of gold. This is football, after all, and what goes around usually tends to come around.