And here it is. The potted recent history of Manchester City encapsulated in 90 minutes of football, at Wembley.

Start off with a metaphor for the years of embarrassment. A goal down to Sunderland in a major final, less than a year after losing in similar circumstances to Wigan Athletic. Oh the shame.

Here we go again. Laughing stock club. Spent all that money, won nothing. And then, in what seems like an instant, see the narrative change beyond recognition.

Two goals in as many minutes, equating to the elation felt as one of the wealthiest men in the world buys the club, offering hope, then triumph, and making dreams come true. The third goal? Well, that represents the future. Emphatic victory, supremacy, the growing divide.

City have a home FA Cup quarter-final against a Championship team – Wigan again – to play on Sunday, and two games in hand that could see them top the Premier League table at a later date.

This could merely be stage one of a unique treble. It is also the first trophy of significance in Europe for Manuel Pellegrini, the manager. Mighty oaks from little acorns and all that.

It does help, when visiting Wembley as a fan, to have an I-was-there moment to retell through generations and Yaya Toure kindly provided one, with the goal that levelled the scores after 55 minutes. It was, he said, his finest, and there is fair competition in that category.

Suffice to say Toure’s equaliser was one of those long-range shots that curled so precisely and exquisitely into the top corner that, at first, some thought it was an over-hit cross that got lucky. Surely no player could be that audacious, or cool under pressure. Well, yes, some players could.

Great players. Great players see every minute as an opportunity to alter destiny. Great players do not take a poor first-half out with them again after half-time. Toure is a great player.

After 45 minutes he was the problem; ten minutes later he was the solution.

He really did have a tough time of it early on. Gus Poyet, the Sunderland manager, had identified Toure’s axis with Fernandinho as the key to City’s strength and set about closing them down as swiftly as possible. For half of the game, it worked. Toure in particular, appeared ill at ease with the physical confrontation Sunderland brought and the underdogs were well worth their single goal lead.

It came after ten minutes when Fernandinho was dispossessed by Lee Cattermole, who quickly fed Adam Johnson. He hit a quite superb long pass from deep that drew round like a fine tee shot into the path of Fabio Borini, who bustled Vincent Kompany out of the way.

Left with only understudy goalkeeper Costel Pantilimon to beat the young man kept his nerve, and finished smartly at an angle.

It was early, but Sunderland were rightly buoyed by this. They created good chances from there; a Wes Brown header from Seb Larsson’s corner, a by-line cut-back from Johnson that was cut out by Kompany with Sunderland men queuing up; and a Larsson touch that set Borini up, dashing clear of City’s defence and only caught by Kompany close to the six-yard box, on the verge of forging a two-goal lead.

So it is to the immense credit of City, Pellegrini, and Toure specifically, that they should emerge so energised for the second-half.

Yes, they were still open at the back on occasions, and it helped that Sunderland dropped deeper almost from the restart, but they were a very different team once the coach had the opportunity to review and regroup.

City dominated second-half possession and a long range shot from Ki Sung-Yueng aside, had scored twice before Sunderland were given the chance to respond.

The equalising goal was coming. Pablo Zabaleta hit a chip – which probably was intended as a cross – that caught Sunderland goalkeeper Vito Mannone a little off his line and maybe it gave Toure ideas. Soon after, Samir Nasri found David Silva whose low shot was saved. And then it was Yaya time.

He exchanged passes with Zabaleta in the build-up. Not greatly meaningful ones. The type of passes players make when all they see ahead are massed banks of red and white shirts, and no way through.

Zabaleta to Toure, trying to change the angle, Toure to Zabaleta, looking for an opening wide, Zabaleta to Toure, to see if he had any better ideas and then: bang. He was 30 yards out, with plenty of traffic ahead, so took a short cut. The ball lifted over all obstacles, including Mannone, and curled right to left into the very top corner. It was, quite simply, one of the finest goals scored at this stadium, old or new.

Sunderland were still digesting it when Samir Nasri claimed the second.

It was another example of the match-defining excellence that Sheikh Mansour’s money has bought.

Aleksander Kolarov broke down the left and hit a cross, which was deflected just off line by a Sunderland boot. Unfortunately, it was directed only into the path of the late-arriving Nasri whose finish, first time, brooked no argument.

Even with 34 minutes remaining Sunderland looked beaten. They had chances after that but never the same command they enjoyed in the first-half. Pantilimon saved a free-kick from Marcos Alonso on the right, while substitute Steven Fletcher should have done better from a chance set up by Jack Colback.

When the striker mis-controlled a golden opportunity at the far post late in the game, Sunderland’s race was run. By now they were throwing everything at City, with predictable results.

The break that led to the third goal came directly from Sunderland pressure. The move broke down around City’s area and Toure was quickest away, finding Jesus Navas on the right, scooting directly at Mannone with Sunderland’s defences in disarray.

His finish allowed the party at the blue end to begin in earnest, and it continued long after the final whistle, heralded by the playing of Supersonic by Oasis. ‘I’m feeling Supersonic, give me gin and tonic,’ rang out around the stadium as Noel Gallagher looked on.

It must be nice to be Noel. When your team wins they play all your favourite songs. Although he will be hoping to be heartily sick of them by the time the season ends.

—Daily Mail