Scouting for Pigeons

I still vividly remember the last time Forest played Queens Park Rangers. It was, of course, the day of our inevitable relegation.

I can still see the Chelsea fans, drinking in a bar near Wembley and making ‘down’ gestures with contemptible grins as the coaches rolled by.

I can still see the banner that two Derby fans unfurled over a motorway bridge, it read: “Bye Bye Red Dogs, Get Down, Stay Down”.

It was same day some supporters turned their back on Nottingham Forest, while others wept into the night and knew they would be coming back in spite of their better judgement.

It was the day that three miserable years of third tier football began; bringing volumes of frustration so enormous that they tested the commitment of even the most ardent supporters.

And today many of us are fearing that we will soon be re-entering the nightmare.

It wasn’t a bad performance by any means, but at the moment it never seems to be. The results just aren’t coming and we are very quickly beginning to look very much at home in the relegation zone.

For 45 minutes we pressed QPR, sustaining enough pressure to draw eager chants of “You’re Rich, but You’re F****** S***”.

But clear chances were few and far between and it would have taken a deluded optimist to bet on us actually netting one of them.

Tyson and Cole were isolated from a midfield that sat deep.

The occasional runs of McCleary and Anderson caused clear problems, but when their balls reached the penalty area it was always too slow for Tyson, and too quick for Cole.

At half-time the players were applauded warmly and there was little doubting that a comparable second half would bring a win.

But the second half was by no means comparable. QPR scored against the run of play, confidence drained to empty, and the second goal sealed the points well in advance of the final whistle.

Lewis McGugan’s free-kick sparked flickers of hope but, in reality, we were going nowhere.

It was an exasperating afternoon, made infinitely worse by the fact that there is no clear light at the end of the tunnel.

To remove Calderwood would be exceptionally harsh if only his side’s performances are measured.

But one win in eleven paints a more telling picture, especially when set alongside a record of six straight away defeats – a monkey that will now adorn our backs for the remainder of the season.

Travelling supporters as numerous and as vocal as Forest’s deserve considerably more, but it’s a familiar feeling by now.

And on top of everything else I spent the afternoon flanked by a number of Forest’s most irritating Southern supporters.

We should be immensely proud of our fan base in the nether regions, but some of them simply shouldn’t be allowed outside – never mind into football grounds.

Highlights include the trendy chaps dressed like Scouting for Pigeons, or something, with their Topshop girlfriends in tow.

And a special mention for the heavy-set gentleman who screamed impetuous praise for Andy Cole throughout, whilst roaring: “KERR-MON SMIRF-EEEE” every time our number one received the ball.

What happens next? No idea. Calderwood simply cannot be more than 90 minutes from losing his job. Can he?