At full time, 3,500 gave a defiant chorus of ‘Forest til I die’. It was a valiant and heartfelt gesture, but it felt almost like a cue for the death knoll.
This could be the point that saves Forest, but it could just as easily be the missing two that cost the club its place in the Championship.
I think Forest deserved a win, and if this game proves pivotal it will be galling for reasons far beyond our misfortune. I have never been so convinced that a referee was making decisions on the basis of a grudge.
Sometimes referees make dubious calls and their competence is questioned, but some of the decisions this afternoon were not incompetent – they were frankly inexplicable.
Any 50-50 decisions that could have gone Barnsley’s way did so without consideration, and the referee turned a blind eye to some outrageous cynicism.
At one stage Osbourne was hauled down with the graceless indecency of a rugby tackle, not more than 5 yards from the referee. He didn’t spot it.
He awarded a corner for a shot that evaded Turner’s sprawling palm by two yards. His eyes glazed over as five or six horribly late challenges left Forest men in an anguished heap. He remarkably ignored the moment when a Barnsley man kicked Cohen in the shins, studs blazing. The assistant, idling less than a metre away, buckled to stage fright too.
It wasn’t our day. Every spare ball, every rebound, and every ricochet seemed to squirm into the path of a Barnsley player. But this was a spirited and workmanlike display from Forest and we were never too far away from the finished product.
The first half was played out in Barnsley’s half. Their breakaways were a problem because our defence, as ever, was frenzied. But until the last 5 minutes it was a comfortable half for us, we were steadily but surely working toward a lead.
When Barnsley imposed themselves at the end of the half our defending was panic-stricken and timorous. There was too much apprehension about the consequences of falling behind, and it’s something that could cost us in the remaining games.
Barnsley’s goal was revolting. My view was poor but it seemed to be a clash of poor defending and questionable goalkeeping. It was characterised by the goading, slurring, snarling Yorkshiremen bursting blood vessels to rub salt into Forest wounds.
It’s always the same in Yorkshire. The natives are more concerned about the visitors’ having a miserable time than they are about their own club's success.
Most of them had only bothered limping down from their back-to-backs because of the discounted ticket prices. Their typically obnoxious celebrations made the subsequent penalty miss and equaliser a lot more satisfying.
The mood lifted tremendously after Turner’s save from an atrocious penalty. After that I was certain of an equaliser, even after Earnshaw thumped the crossbar. The travelling supporters were almost sucking the ball into the net.
Sadly we ran out of breath. Barnsley had a host of opportunities as we surged forward, and for a time it was end-to-end. It was physically exhausting to watch.
The closest we came was a ball from Garath McCleary which rolled across the goal-line with the keeper beaten. Cohen retrieved the ball, lying unattended at the corner flag, and he probably should have done better with the eventual shot.
It’s not a disaster, but we’re facing serious peril now. This is a point that keeps hopes alive, but leaves us in purgatory.
We may well need three wins from five games. I’m not sure where they will come from.
It has been refreshing to watch a Forest side with some genuinely good players in it, but I fear we may well be returning to the abyss. The likes of Earnshaw and Blackstock are unlikely to come along with us.
