I’ve always found it a bit strange how I could be stood in a downpour, at the back of a crowd of bodies, on an uncovered terrace, 3-1 down away at Bristol Rovers, and singing the names of Tottenham, Chelsea, United et al. and boast that they won’t defeat us. Here we are, in the doldrums, singing songs about the teams we used to spar with. Maybe it came across as delusional – pitiful maybe – but it was certainly easier to hang on to the past than have to continually update an entire fanbases’ repertoire to match our rivals per season.
Morecambe, or Fleetwood,
Forest Green or anyone (ANYONE!)
It just doesn’t have the same appeal, really.
Eight Years Later
I need not ponder such surrealism now.
Every year, for a quarter of a century, this fanbase would expect the good times to come back. Expectation quickly receded into hope. Then, hope dissipated into nihilism. Why bother putting the energy into thinking that we’ll come good? We never come good. It never happens to people like us.
You know, nothing ever happens on its own. As the doldrums era came to an end with the bittersweet relegation that was eased slightly with a League Trophy win at Wembley, and the return of Mark Robins, we didn’t know that we would climb all the way back to the upper echelon of league football. Thanks to the efforts of Robins, Adi Viveash, and the players; in spite of the dead man’s hands constantly dealt by SISU, this football club turned about-face, and started to march the long and winding road that leads to the door of glory, guided for those vital last steps by Frank Lampard. The rest is well-covered history.
We are Premier League. This is the surreality I now face.
Truth is, it hasn’t all sunk in. I don’t think it will until this season finally concludes, and we get the new fixtures, and that Premier League table with our name somewhere in the top half on alphabetical order.
This past season has been so bewildering in how we’ve twice commanded a large lead at the top of the table and yet constantly been checking over our shoulders. Even now, with three games to go, we haven’t wrapped the title up. We’ve scored goals for fun in spells, and in other spells really struggled in front of goal. We’ve set a club record at the back, yet looked shaky defensively. We’ve played attractive passing football, and also relied on hitting it long. We’ve had a smorgasboard of a fan experience watching this team, and we’ve enjoyed almost all of it. It’s been breathless and breathtaking in equal measure.
Now What?
We’ll go to the Etihad, the Emirates, Anfield, and all the rest. We’ll likely be brought back down to earth. We’ll be punching above our weight and try to prove the doubters wrong at every turn. We’ll have to deal with the nuisances of VAR, Monday nights & Sunday lunchtimes, and all the other silly little foibles that come with being under the biggest spotlight in the World’s biggest theatre. But most of all, we’ll enjoy it.
Who knows? Maybe another eight years from now, we’ll be in Europe. I hear Bratislava’s nice.
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