I should be in bed, I should have drunk more water today, I should have rested my voice and I certainly should have listened to my colleagues when they suggested a permanent ‘voice rest’ sticker or better still, gaffer tape across my mouth this week ahead of a massive weekend.

I’ve been really concerned on a professional level for the last three months. I’ve been convinced Leicester City will win The Premier League but as the day has drawn closer, my anxiety about calling a goal which could crown my boyhood club the best team in the best league in the world, that’s been daunting, not anymore.

Some commentators script their goals, have  a line ready for when Danny Simpson breaks his 195 games without a goal but that doesn’t work for me. Claudio said this Friday in his press conference that he’s only nervous when he doesn’t feel the chemistry of his players and I’m the same during a game, I think I work best when I can smell the state of the encounter in front of me and can see and hear the action clearly (albeit with closed back headphone on, if ever you shout at us or try and talk to me with these beauties on, I’m not being rude in not responding, it’s that I can’t hear you, our effects mic, ‘Eric’ is our only real source of noise within the venue).

The possibility of The Foxes re-writing the history books and even bedtime stories here in Leicestershire is different. I had convinced myself I needed something ready, a line for Mahrez, one for Morgan etc etc but four phone calls this week convinced me otherwise.

1. Rob Nothman my commentary coach. Rob coaches 99% of the BBC’s football commentators and is a class act. He knows his stuff and he knows me and my style very well. “have you ever scripted anything before? No” “the most legendary piece of football commentary ever was simply a picture being painted by the Kenneth Wolstenholme in 1966, he saw some people on the pitch so he told his audience, he believed that they thought it was all over, so he called it, then brought home the most memorable goal in English football history, no script” Rob told me that my best goals had come from my boots, Vardy vs Liverpool this season (which is estimated to have been heard by 100m people around the world, thanks to exposure from other broadcasters and the viral nature of the internet) Dyer vs Bolton in the promotion season, simply called them as I saw them. Point made Rob, thank you
2. Simon Oxley, BBC Three Counties Radio. I called Simon this week to ask his advice. “paint the same picture as you would for any other game, don’t worry about the emotion getting in your way, your listeners know you’re a local lad, back yourself, I back you, let it rip” Exactly the pep talk I needed, thank you Simon.
3. Dad……………..oh Dad. Now then, my Dad recruited me as a City fan when I could barely walk. He thrust me into pen 4 of The Kop at Filbert Street where I’d sit on the lawnmover shed at the bottom so I could see Ally Mauchlen and Tony Spearing work their defensive magic. I remember the Tony James goal in 1991 so I was down there at 9 years old, on my own whilst Dad was singing with his Army mate Rogers at the back, I learnt some excellent new words every week in those days.  My Dad didn’t offer any professional advice, he just told me he loves everything I do and that I’d be fantastic and call the perfect goal. The sort of ignorance is bliss endorsement I was after. Cheers Dad.
4. Richard Gamble, former Leicester City Chaplin. Richard, The Rev, Gamble has been a very good friend for a while and is the best listening ear I could ever have had the privilege of having. He’s always instilled an approach which reflects trusting yourself to deal with whatever happens. A repeat of this message helped. Cheers Rev.

So it’s now about 1am on Sunday the 1st of May 2016 (it’s my birthday would you believe) and I’m really calm and relaxed. Yes this could be the day Leicester City are crowned Premier League Champions, maybe not, and my job isn’t all about calling the big moments, although that is a large part. Here’s the thing, I am confident ahead of what’s a massive day for me and many others who aren’t on the field but idolise those who are.

Backroom staff, media and operations staff, the coach driver, the kit man, those driving up the M6 with the pressure of having the tickets in their pocket.It’s a big day for more than the 11 heroes on the pitch.

Call the moment, say what you see, think about what it means to the fans there, at home, abroad and those who have sadly left us and encapsulate what that goal means (unless it’s before the 70th minute you’ll hear a lot of “that COULD be the goal….” nobody wants to call a winner in the 17th minute. You look a clown if it ends up 4-3 and you’ve no voice left).

This story means more within our city and county than any other big time club who have overspent on passengers. The kids playing on the streets I walked and played football on whilst living on Beaumont Leys Lane as a kid have new heroes, and that helps me when I see the faces of those celebrating whilst screaming them home.

I have one problem, my 9 year old son Owen. He and I are everything a father and son should be when it comes to football. I help with his sticker albums, different formations, why exploiting space is important and he asks me about Filbert Street.

He sleeps with posters of his heroes in blue and white watching over him whilst he sleeps. His favourite player is Jamie Vardy.

Owen can play a bit too, such that I’d be shocked if he wasn’t in the running for a few awards at his Ravenstone Football Club end of season awards bash soon (I would say that wouldn’t I), this makes his understanding of the game a delight to observe. The analysis during MOTD is his highlight. Owen doesn’t go to school in Leicester, he lives with his Mum in Buckinghamshire where I pick him up every Friday along with his sister, to come back to Leicester. He says path not parth, he has a bath not a barth, what a boy. He owns my heart that kid and when I think of him it makes my nose tickle. He’s my boy.

His school is full of Arsenal, Chelsea and Manchester City fans. Owen goes to school with a Leicester City rucksack and is proud of it. He’s my weakness for so many different reasons. If I think of my boy, jumping around and screaming the goals in amongst all his friends with his City shirt on and his love for the club he’s been teased about, pouring out onto the streets as he shouts “we’ve won the league, we’ve done it” – well, that’s me gone. Deduct my pay boss because I’m unlikely to contribute after that due to the rivers of tears.

Owen, enjoy it son, this doesn’t happen every season but be the envy of your friends at school and fill your heart with blue dreams tonight. I know the job isn’t done yet but the story so far is better than any of our dreams let’s be right.

I’ll do my best.

I’ve never said “we” when referring to Leicester City on the air, we have a joke about it in the studio, it’s not allowed really. I hate it and think it’s a step too far over the impartiality line. I’ve never cried on the air and I’ve never kissed anybody on the air (pucker up Jason) but for this trip to Old Trafford, and potentially the next two games, all bets are off with no apologies if it goes City’s way.

Leicester City may not be crowned champions at Old Trafford but I have to be prepared for them to be and I’m ready for that, I hope you are.

For the record, if it can be a one on one to allow me 2 seconds to call the build up and scream the goal home then all the better, I won’t pray for this though, I will however ask The Lord to give me the strength I need to deal with whatever happens.

Up the City.