Sour medicine to swallow.
The club is in an appalling state. It is clearer this evening than it has ever been before.
We were promoted by default with a fairly poor side, and Calderwood lead us into the Championship with a skeletal squad and barely enough paper to hide the cracks.
Now we are in freefall. The manager is trapped somewhere between his pride and his reason, his threadbare side goes weak at the knees whenever pressure comes knocking. And, in sum, they are simply not good enough.
It is a sickly weak side of pallid skeletons and fluttering stomachs. The more experienced professionals in the team, including Smith, Breckin, Wilson and Chambers, are a division above their standard. The youngsters have been thrown overboard without their floats.
And if Nottingham Forest are sinking like the Titanic, today could well have been the iceberg.
Only an ailing Forest side can destroy the pageant of a derby day with this level of barbarism.
The stage was set to perfection. The sun illuminated the ground as though it was the first day of summer, and with the tannoy silenced the atmosphere bubbled to a searing crescendo. But from the first whistle it would only get progressively worse.
An average but industrious Derby side with simple ideas and basic efficiency left Forest reeling.
We were physically bullied and tactically outclassed. Derby have learned from each of their meetings with Forest and have improved every single time.
Today they sat deep and absorbed Nathan Tyson’s runs, they closed down our mechanical 10-yard passes and squeezed tight on our tottering defenders.
Forest meanwhile, had taken nothing from a humiliating defeat and two scrappy draws against the very same side. Hulse and Commons again looked twice the quality they actually are. Their defence will scarcely have an easier game all season.
Despite a sensible and ordered performance, Derby did not make it easy for themselves today. That job was Forest’s.
The only thing missing was a red carpet for their sauntering midfielders to glide across.
Davies defended the effort of the players in his irritable post match thoughts but I cannot agree with him.
There is no way Forest played in a manner that reflected the scorching desires of supporters. If anything they paraded a barefaced disregard.
In my short years I have seen Forest plummet from Premier League comfort to third tier mediocrity. But I don’t think I have ever been as disgusted or as disillusioned by a Forest side as I was today.
With 20 minutes to go I could easily have left. Only a perverse self-deprecation, and a bit of morbid curiosity, kept me in my seat.
And I certainly was kept in my seat. Despite half of the stadium standing up, the stewards and police made it clear from an early stage that myself and neighbours were to be seated and silenced.
The orange-coated chief called twice for police reinforcements to repeat his instructions. His wry smile rather sums up the day.
What happens from here I do not know. This is the sort of day that should see blood spilled and heads rolling in consequence.
But the manager has barely had time to tidy his desk, the acquisition panel lives on, the country’s premier bigot continues to run the club in the chairman’s absence. And the chairman’s chequebook continues to gather dust.
If today’s tipple is stiffened by a return to League One, the hangover could last a generation.
