In the end Harry Redknapp was enveloped in the obligatory hugs and kisses.

Then the Portsmouth manager turned to the Wembley stand and waved to his family and the Pompey chimes rang around Wembley after an FA Cup final which deserves to go down in history as the People's Final. All 89,874 of them.

It was never a classic, not blessed with great drama or spectacular quality. But a warm and engaging occasion after which, following a career of endless optimism but no tangible reward, Redknapp had the medal and the trophy he craved.

And surely no-one could deny him that, especially after a year of unrelenting private trauma?

The 1-0 triumph, he said, was for his wife Sandra, whose twin sister Pat Lampard had died a fortnight before.

What with that and dawn police raids on his home and offers from Newcastle and ambitions of managing England, at times you wondered how he had kept his mind on the job in hand.

But that is the knack of Redknapp, a manager who conveys a cheekie-chappy, light-hearted persona but whose talents and emotions run so much deeper.

It takes an astute mind to build what Redknapp has done in such a short time at Portsmouth. "Sheer genius" is how Portsmouth owner Alexandre Gaydamak describes it.

More than £50million also helps. And if the gulf between the sides did not always reflect that then the quality on show invariably was wearing the blue of Portsmouth. In the midfield creativity of Lassana Diarra and Niko Kranjcar, the defensive solidity of Sol Campbell and the deft touch of goal-scorer Kanu.

It had been billed as the final to put the romance back into the FA Cup.

Quite a burden that and hardly fair on an unfashionable Premier League side and a mid-table Championship club £24million in debt and for whom every player is potentially up for sale.

But the afternoon had the feel of a throwback, a return to times when the FA Cup coursed through the veins of every football lover in the home nations.

Much of that had to do with the stirring rendition of 'Men of Harlech' and of course 'Abide With Me', even if it was spoiled somewhat when the microphone of Katherine Jenkins decided to turn mute.

True, we could have done without the boos which greeted the Welsh national anthem and which suggested the FA's respect campaign still has a long way to travel.

But in the main there was a feeling that the cup was back at grassroots and not on some planet dominated by football's foreign billionaires.

Back to echoes of an era with which guest of honour, Sir Bobby Robson, would have been so familiar.

And if the Welsh fans' chants informed us that Cardiff were 'By far the greatest team in football the world has ever seen' then we could forgive them their little delusion.

Of course, they are far from that but what they lack in guile they make up for in graft.

They might have taken the lead in the 13th minute when semi-final goalscorer Joe Ledley fed Paul Parry, whose left-footed shot was smothered by the alert David James.

They might have gone behind when Kanu spun past defender Glenn Loovens, glided beyond goalkeeper Peter Enckelman and then contrived to slide the ball against a post with the goal gaping.

It was that sort of game. Much more open. Far more action than last year's masterpiece in dullness between Chelsea and Manchester United.

The pity was that when the opening goal arrived it came via a goalkeeping blunder from Enckelman. Those steeped in those DVDs of sporting bloopers will recall Enckelman's 'air shot' while playing for Aston Villa which once gifted Birmingham a Premier League goal.

This was not in the same class but John Utaka's cross should have been cleared easily, rather than being parried into the path of Kanu who tapped home gratefully.

Kanu's jig of celebration in the Cardiff six-yard area only compounded Enckelman's humiliation.

Yet there was no sense the Premier League side would run away with it. No chance of Cardiff giving up on their big day and Loovens had the ball in the Portsmouth net just before half-time but was adjudged to have handled the ball in the build-up.

The second half saw Portsmouth sit on their lead, a natural cautiousness invading their performance while Cardiff huffed and puffed and brought on their so-called wonder kid, 17-year-old Aaron Ramsey.

In short, however, the Welsh side simply ran out of ideas.

That is something you could never say about Redknapp's career. Stormy. Controversial. Touched with brilliance.

And now finally, deservedly, garnished with silver.