If Billy Davies found his brow furrowed at Forest’s league position after the City triumph, he probably had the mystery solved by the end of this afternoon.
Charlton were mugged. For much of the first half Forest created as close to possible as nothing, while the hosts were afforded time and space to plot endless routes in behind an industrious but flappable defence.
Tyson’s goal arrived without warning. Seemingly seconds later Earnshaw’s cool lob essentially sealed the points.
The away supporters, a mass of severe glares and wrinkled foreheads, celebrated in disbelief.
Usually exuberant almost to the point of violence, I could celebrate the second goal with nothing more expressive than a gaping jaw.
We have been tipped that Davies is fond of smash and grabs, but for the first 30 minutes it hadn’t seemed possible.
Forest supporters are well-trained in expecting the worst, and despite the cushion I spent the second half gnashing furiously at my fingernails.
A 2-0 advantage at half-time is, frankly, as good as it gets. But the doomsayer does not see three points within grasp when he ponders any such half. He sees gruesome images of an early goal, a rallying home crowd and a dejected drive home.
Charlton capped an intriguingly camp half-time warm up with 15 minutes of solid pressure. Breckin’s automated clearance mechanism laid on a banquet of corners, but a combination of Paul Smith’s gloves and a series of reckless, sprawling blocks kept the score in Forest’s favour.
As the home side ventured optimistically forward, there was a mischievous yearning for Paul Anderson’s pace or Robert Earnshaw’s guile to settle matters with a third.
Anderson struck the corner flag for the second time with our only real chance of the half. But the job was already done.
With a reluctant sense of inevitability, Charlton heads dropped. Their supporters – probably planning next season’s trips to Stockport et al – flocked to the exits.
Not even the incentive of a bizarre five minutes of stoppage time could raise spirits in what simply wasn’t their day.
Of course, it is with complete dyspathy that I view their anguish. We have walked away dejected from unjust outcomes more than once this season.
However, like most Championship supporters I am astonished that Phil Parkinson, possibly one of the least successful caretakers on record, has landed the job.
His appointment seems an acceptance of fate on behalf of the club – perhaps an eye-opener for those who object to the arrival of Billy and his vast battalion at Forest.
And what of Billy Davies? His approach remains something of an enigma. It was a direct, dogged, generally quite unpleasant display.
But as players through themselves into challenges and broke with confidence on the wings there was a reassuring quality of workmanlike competence.
Certainly under Calderwood I would have backed us to ship two goals and walk away with a purgatorial sense of injustice.
Davies spent most of the time watching the game from the shadows.
His goons did much of the barking, the man himself scurried to the forefront to deliver one-to-one instructions during breaks in play.
At the end of the game he acknowledged the travelling support, which was gratefully received.
Walking toward the tunnel with fans chanting his name, I can almost hear him saying: “I knew they’d love me, but popularity doesn’t matter to Billy Davies…”
At the moment it’s only a hunch, but I think his attitude and his confidence might be exactly what we need.
