A lot has happened since Tottenham away. So what have we learned?
So many things.
Let’s review, consolidate what we know, and speculate wildly about hypotheticals which we’ve can’t control.
Wembley.
We didn’t show up and only had one shot on target to cap off an underwhelming display.
Or, we rallied after a disastrous start, gave City a real headache for half the game and on another day – and with a smidge more luck – might be in an FA Cup Final.
One of these. Or neither. Or both.
We know that we got off to the worst start possible start, one we feared would drown us like helpless puppies in a rope bag. But we hung on with clipped fingernails and scrambled back to solid ground, solid enough to earn a huge group love-in as fans and team consoled themselves with mutual pats on the back. Put like this, it sounds cloyingly saccharine, but it wasn’t; it was hearteningly reassuring.
Brentford.
Must we?
We should. We really should. We must.
After five minutes, Morgan Gibbs-White misplaced a pass and Forest-World shook a little, nudged slightly out of its steady orbit.
Maybe we were all a bit casual. Just Brentford. Little Brentford with their silly little stadium and silly obsession with xG and their general silly silliness sprinkled with an outstanding front two and tactically nuanced manager, all of which has enabled this silly little club to consolidate in the Premier League and remain competitive each season.
Of course, we shouldn’t really be admitting any of this since we are supposed to have a dislike of such admirable achievements because a bloke on the internet said we should as Brentford once made a less than acceptable bid for Brennan Johnson or something.
So we all rocked up expecting to sweep silly little Brentford away, conveniently neglecting the difficultly Forest have of making inroads into teams that allow them to have the ball at home while they wait for a team not used to possession to falter, then do a Forest style lightning counter attack against them, or just hoof a long ball down the middle, either works. Either way, the vibes were extremely ‘midweek defeat to Preston in the Championship on a Tuesday night when a win would have lifted us to eighth place and a shout at a play-off place.’
Perhaps we all kind of forgot how monumentally difficult it is to win Premier League games. There was a time, not long ago, when we were acutely aware of the Herculean effort required to even get a point. Or more pertinently, we just weren’t very good on the night.
It happens. And when it does, it doesn’t mean all the players are not good enough anymore.
Thirty years ago, Forest finished third and qualified for Europe and if it wasn’t for a horribly inefficient November, would have been in with a shout of the title. But time erases the awful performances because it’s extremely good at sorting the bad from the good and sticking it in the bin. There were some stinkers even in that magnificent season, but such occasions do not mean everything is broken.
What this result did point towards was a squad that was just stumbling and starting to feel the pressure of expectation as much as anything. All deeply unsurprising when considered in context.
Even if it felt like it was, all was not lost.
Even if felt like our favourite toy was broken, a rest and a good old shake might inject some life into it yet.
Crystal Palace.
This felt different.
Although the pressure to win was significant after other results at the weekend, it felt like everyone accepted that a battling point would be highly satisfying, not unlike our first season after promotion. It was almost like a subtle recalibration had taken place, along the lines of, ‘Christ we could get a European place here with a point’, rather than ‘Christ we might lose out on a Champions League place if we don’t win.’
A defeat would have made the final three games seem daunting. But thanks to a resilient performance, and a bit of luck, those remaining games now look more what they are and always have been: games in which we will need to be very good in, and if we are, stand a good chance of winning, even if playing these games without Callum Hudson-Odoi and Murillo will make them harder.
It won’t get any easier. Jamie Vardy’s desire to score his 200th goal against us is equal to the force of the Death Star’s tractor beam.
All of which is to say that the last three games have confirmed what we always knew: we can achieve the top five finish but Christ, it’s going to be as difficult as it has been all season, perhaps more so with injuries, mental fatigue and an untried squad lacking experience of this type of thing. But we also know that this team has pulled off the unthinkable on numerous occasions so far and not just encouraged us, but made us dream.
It’s not the hope that kills you; it’s the hope that keeps you going.
One of my books, ‘The History Boys: Thirty Iconic Forest Goals’, has been reprinted in paperback, with a lovely review quote on the front cover. Click here if you fancy buying a copy.
I have almost completed the 92. Here are some observations from visiting lots of football grounds over the years.
If you don’t know me, I am the author of ‘Reds and Rams: The History of the East Midlands Derby’ and ‘The History Boys: Thirty Iconic Forest Goals’ (both available in the Forest club shop). I have written pieces for Mundial magazine, Football Weekends magazine, edited two award-nominated fanzines and was a columnist for the Nottingham Forest programme for eight years.
If you do know me, I’m truly sorry.
