Saturday, May 7, 2016 was one of the most important days of my life. You might remember it. Against all the odds, I’d captained my team to the Premier League title. As I stepped forward to lift the trophy and celebrate the greatest success in Leicester City’s history, I was the happiest man in the world. It was a miracle for me and the club. No one would ever have predicted it. Even now, I have to pinch myself. Seven years on, it still feels like a dream. I’m not sure that will ever change.
Leicester felt like the centre of the football universe that day. Travelling in and seeing all the fans, it was pandemonium. Everyone had come out early to make the most of such a special occasion. I was pulled from pillar to post, being talked through timings and how the whole day was mapped out. It was difficult to concentrate on the game with everything else going on, but we got the job done, beating Everton 3-1.
It was like a fairytale. Leicester had looked destined for relegation the previous season. Now, we were champions of England. The 5000-1 outsiders who shocked everyone, including ourselves. There was so much to take in – we were trying to make sense of such an incredible achievement. That’s why, if you watch the presentation ceremony, you can see me close my eyes for a split second just before I collect the trophy. I needed to savour that moment and what it meant to me. To truly understand how I felt that day, you have to know where I came from and what it took to get there.
Considering where my career began, I had no right
