DON'T go breaking our hearts, sang Sir Elton. Some hope. As the barnstorming opener, Benny and the Jets, boomed out over a balmy Kings Park, Svenny and the Dejects were packing their designer man-bags and preparing to face the music.

Ultimately, it was the music that took 18,000 minds off 40 years of hurt.

Come to think of it, young Reg Dwight was just about to burst on to the scene when England won the World Cup for the one and probably only time. Since then, of course, the Rocket Man has done rather well for himself. And, seeing the energy and effort he put in at Dean Court, it's no surprise he's still standing.

At times it seemed I was the only person in the entire stadium that didn't know all the words to all the songs, although I did manage a fair stab at the "la, la, la" bit during Crocodile Rock.

I must admit that I've never been a huge fan, and Sir Elton doesn't mean as much to me as he obviously did to many of the people here who'd forked out £40 for tickets, £20 for T-shirts and baseball caps and £4 for a Pimms. But, at the end of the day, as they say at football-related concerts like this, he won me over. You can see why he fills huge venues all over the world I doubt there's a stadium big enough for his personality.

So what has he got going for him? Well, there's a top-notch five-piece band for a start, made up of Guy Babylon (keyboards), John Mahon (percussion), Bob Birch (bass) and long-time sidekicks Davey Johnstone (guitar) and Nigel Olsson (drums).

There's a wealth of memorable songs, from flat-out rockers to smoochy ballads, and the man himself pounds the piano to good effect and still packs a mighty punch when he opens that often outspoken mouth of his (the only bum note, incidentally, was his use of industrial language more often associated with a docker than a knight of the realm.) The audience couldn't be persuaded that Germany were now the team to support, although they were chuffed to hear that Andy Murray had won at Wimbledon ... and one of the biggest cheers of the evening followed the uncompromising verdict (unprintable in a family paper) on Cristiano Ronaldo.

It wasn't so much a stream of hits as a raging torrent. Whatever your feelings about Sir Elton, he sure knows how to write a catchy tune from Philadelphia Freedom and Daniel through Sacrifice and Are You Ready For Love? to The Bitch is Back and Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting (which, thankfully, wasn't the case).

Personally, I preferred the slower numbers, and even found Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me, which, fortunately, coincided with dusk, to be one of those memorable spine-tingling moments in one's gig-going life.

This was the last in a series of summer spectaculars in this country Elt and the band are off to Las Vegas next week and the closing number, Your Song, was a thank-you to the fans who'd been there since its 1970 release.

The main man, aptly attired in garish red and black, wished Cherries good luck for the new season and walked off to be whisked away in his helicopter, as hordes of happy punters filed towards the congested car park.

For almost two and-a-half hours, the tame surrender at the AufSchalke Arena had been largely forgotten.

Gutted in Gelsenkirchen, gladdened at Fortress Fitness First. Sir Elton showed plenty of passion, tons of determination and knows more than a bit about football wonder what he's like at penalties?