I WAS there . . . so was folk hero Max Boyce. And the voice of the Valleys, Tom Jones. And, it seems, the entire principality.

In the normal way of things, to say you were there is all that matters, soaking up the atmosphere, making friends with complete strangers and joining in the singing.

But to be there when Wales beat the old enemy is something so much sweeter.

There can be little more joy in sport than to savour victory as I did on Sunday.

I was fortunate to have a seat behind the goal-line at Wembley where all the tries were scored, with a view from behind the kicks of Neil Jenkins which kept Wales in contention in the first half when, perhaps, they should have been a long way in arrears.

England missed their opportunities to bury Wales, and they learned, in the cruellest way, that there's nothing more dangerous than a wounded dragon.

Inspired by Jenkins' glorious footwork and spiritually lifted by the thousands of Welsh voices reverberating across the backcloth of the patterned terraces of red, green and white, they couldn't fail to respond.

First, an early second-half try from full back Shane Howarth.

Then, with the Wembley clock stuck on 80 minutes and play stuttering into injury time, the stroke of luck Wales needed.

A harsh penalty against Tim Rodber was followed by a 60-metre kick by Jenkins, a line-out won by Chris Wyatt, an intervention by Craig Quinnell, and a battering, swerving, joyous run from Scott Gibbs which put Wales just a point behind.

Re-enter Jenkins to do what he had done so superbly all afternoon - kick the winning score and seal a victory which left we Welsh delirious.

I found people I had never met before kick-off were including me in their random bouts of hugs and embraces.

I didn't mind; it was that sort of occasion - but being squeezed by a Welsh fan fashioned from the mould of a Quinnell certainly leaves a mark on both the mind and the body!

Then it was home . . . listening to the train-ride inquests: of how everything in Welsh rugby is now just 'fabulous'; of how England were 'a disgrace' to allow such a result; of how an English side containing Mike Catt will 'never be any good'; and of how the Scots (who took the Five Nations championship because of this result) want to claim Jenkins as one of their own.

But hands off! The Welsh have finally made their minds up about Jenkins - and we now rapturously agree he's the best in the world.

WHILE Wales and Wembley were the pinnacles of a marvellous sporting weekend for me, many of you will have found joy and despair elsewhere, at one or more of the weekend's great sporting occasions - the FA Cup semi-finals; Mika Hakkinen's Brazilian Grand Prix triumph; Scotland's rugby victory in Paris; Jose Maria Olazabal's tearful Masters victory in Augusta; or the Bobby-dazzler of a Grand National.

My favoured nags are still running, but although it was a weekend when I lost my shirt, it was also a day when I regained my pride.

Story date: Wednesday 14 April

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.