"So it is quite clear that when a team in first place rocks up at your home, you are pretty unlikely to get anything. Simple logic will tell you that. The manner of this latest defeat however was utterly painful. A contrast was not only played out in terms of footballing ability, but everything that could be possibly be highlighted as polar opposites was done so excruciatingly at Underhill tonight.
As was so familiar, I stepped from the bar moments before kick off to be greeted by a paltry crowd boosted by a vociferous and numerous travelling band. As Swindon's supporters belted out song after song to be met by near pitch perfect silence from the locals, a close friend of mine noted, ""there is only one winner here"". We all knew that this would be the case.
Is it not disappointing that we have become accustomed to routine defeats and inevitability? Belief has once again been slowly sapped from the Barnet supporters in a manner so absolute that no one aside from the merest handful in the South Stand can rouse a positive voice. I could literally hear birds singing, once the cacophany from the away end had briefly ceased.
It is to a level of despair now. We have fans who as much as they would love to, just cannot bring themselves to back a team who give the impression that simply, they would rather be anywhere else than at Underhill. Half of them are here on loan, and will go back to their parent clubs lamenting the experience that they have gained here. Look at Michael Hector, an outstanding footballer for the purist, who has had all of that skill he possesses put to one side in favour of kicking the ball as high and as hard as he can. It's not his fault. In fact it is not even worth discussing the football, as it was such a tremendous non-event. Swindon scored two of the most basic, playground goals you are ever likely to see in the so-called professional environment and had little to worry about elsewhere. They could not have been more at ease. Quite comfortably the best team in the league, they did not even need to flex any muscles they possess in order to swat us to one side. First gear would have been generous, they were almost in reverse it was so simple.
I am sick to the back teeth of writing this drivel. You may convincingly argue that it was easy for the Swindon supporters to be louder because they are top, or that we were never going to get anything out of the game anyway. Should we really be lying back and accepting that so readily? I at the very least expect to see some sort of belief or fight, but tonight I saw absolutely nothing. Do we look like a club who is ready to take on the fight against relegation? Do me a favour. On nights like this, we are completely doomed.
Compare this to last season where almost all hope had been abandoned. We were miles adrift of safety and going nowhere. Something changed in one fell swoop to completely turn that tide into a wave of positivity. That was Martin Allen. All he needed to do was say a few words, get people on side, and suddenly, everyone had that belief again. Lawrie Sanchez is not the man to do this. I beg of the people in charge to take action sooner rather than later. It does not need me to list the faults, this entire situation is evidence enough that in no way, shape or form, is this working. Tonight could barely be described as a football match, more a statement that action absolutely must be taken.
Swindon will deservedly go on to League One and good luck to them. They have a man with passion on the bench, who has a bit of character and whips up a bit of interest in the team and the club. Hurrah for Swindon. We on the other hand must contemplate a very testing few weeks. They could slither into disappointment or turn into survival. The thing is, either way, I cannot bring myself to be overly concerned. Last year was an unbelievable experience, a pure rollercoaster of emotion that made you realise why you pick football as a hobby.
This doesn't do any of that. The consequences for this club should we get relegated are undoubtedly and unequivocally abject, but should we stay up, I can't see myself hurled into a sudden fit of celebration. It will be anything but that, a mere shrug of the shoulders and a sigh of relief that our journeys will not consist of the wonders of Braintree or Barrow. There will be none of the pure ecstasy that was the last day of the season, merely the most brief of celebrations and the knowledge that in twelve months time, we'll be doing this all over again. It is that unbreakable habit that is so hard to shake off.
We play at Cheltenham on Friday, and despite all of this, I'll be there. Why?"
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