For Forest fans, games like today’s truly rewrite the rulebook – that is, the post-Millennium edition.
Triumphing as an underdog, and indeed performing well with a lot at stake, has not been part of the job description at the City Ground for some time.
Fearing a debasing rout, and with it the end of our away run, I would probably have settled for a narrow defeat before kick off. Certainly I would have snatched at a draw.
Fans have been steadily coached into believing that mediocre is the target, and the first 20 minutes did little to quell fears of a bruising.
Regardless of their erratic form, City have players of genuine quality – and for a short time it very nearly showed.
Hauling our defenders from their stations with simple, ruthless balls into the channels it was only woeful indecision at vital moments that kept the scores level.
But City’s frustration festered and multiplied as Forest consistently stubbed out their fizz. By the time Shaun Wright-Phillips was subbed passes were going wildly astray and gloved fingers were wagging across the pitch.
A Forest side as industrious as any I have ever seen flung themselves at the mercy of every shot, wrestled for every second ball and played with a vibrant pluck worthy of victory in any game.
Three wayward headers were the sum of Forest’s excitement on the break, but the signs were encouraging.
The travelling supporters, meanwhile, were in exceptional form. Three years in the third tier left many fans brain dead and – somewhat inevitably – there were plenty of people posing for Kodak Moments outside the stadium.
Inside though, they were on their best behaviour. Two hours of gleeful, caustic and fairly incessant singing can only have smeared salt into City’s wounds.
Tyson’s strike was greeted with special occasion celebrations. The kind where one is inclined to jump into the arms of bearded men that others usually cross streets to avoid.
The noise levels explode, fans scream until their lungs deflate and their heads pound, and the mass of bodies writhes and squirms from left to right.
For a precious second or two everything outside of the stadium becomes not only irrelevant but completely forgotten.
And why not? Nathan Tyson has his merits, but he doesn’t do that. Not ever.
By the time the celebrations finished it was goal number two. Chris Cohen lunged for possession as though his career depended on it and emerged victorious; his ball teed up Matt Thornhill’s strike which hammered kindly off Earnshaw into the net.
At this point a cunning suspicion that the game might be interesting after all became a hysterical recognition of the fact that we were probably going to win it.
The travelling fans sung throughout half time. The City crowd, previously awash with scornful faces and vulgar gestures, looked lustfully on.
With Stephen Ireland injured and Robinho seemingly excused by parental note it was only ever going to be Forest’s game.
The home side huffed and puffed, but Paul Smith – brushing aside fears about his confidence – was equal to everything.
He certainly wasn’t alone; Ian Breckin and Wes Morgan homed on attacks with magnetic precision, Wilson and Chambers stayed solid.
After 15 minutes of futile pressure the native’s grumblings began and blue shoulders slumped. The death knoll sounded when no City player volunteered to take a corner, cue further bickering.
Anderson and Tyson kept City pulses racing at the back, while McGugan and Cohen delivered performances of Premiership quality.
Dietmar Haman’s bizarre throw in teed up substitute Joe Garner to seal the victory in style.
The post game celebrations will not be forgotten in a hurry, and regardless of the unimportance of the FA Cup compared with survival there is no doubting the importance of the result for morale.
We have successfully dispatched one of the competition favourites with a performance hinged on nothing more than common sense and sheer graft.
Reproduced weekly, this level of effort would land us a play-off place.
I only hope Billy Davies has a working DVD player because he could do with knowing that isn’t always quite like that.
