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There was a young man I used to know who believed that Cardiff City would one day play in the Premier League.

He made the bold statement when Cardiff were in the third tier of the English football leagues and was laughed at by a few colleagues.

Even though I haven't been supporting City for the past few years, I never gave up that hope.

I was happy last night when the Bluebirds finally won their place in the Premier League.

You see, a few years ago when Cardiff missed out on promotion via the play-offs, my father said something that hit a nerve with me. He felt that that was the closest the team would get to the Premier League in his lifetime.

I felt really sorry for him and shared this feeling with one of my close friends.

Last year, they came knocking on the Premier League door yet again.

And failed.

I wanted them to do it. Not for them. Not for me. But for my dad.

Then last night happened.

As soon as it was confirmed that Cardiff had reached their destination, my phone went off and it was from my friend who had remembered that thing I had told her two years ago.

It's all good tight now.