I can’t resist the feeling that some of us are getting a little carried away.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m itching to join the dumbstruck masses in the queue for ‘Camp – 1’ England shirts. But looming beyond the horizon of every weekend’s triumph is an ominous mountain.
I can almost see it sneering from behind the Trent End.
January, February, March, April and May will spill through each of our fingers like water from a tap. We’ll do our photocopying, send our emails, make our calls, drink our beer, and live our lives as ephemerally as ever.
Except when it comes to football.
In Championship terms, January through May is effectively a decade.
Steady performers will buckle, high-fliers will swoon, doomed souls will be absolved, and one side will – as always – put together an endless, snarling, fist-clenching assault on the top six.
Our own assault has left many a nose bloodied, but do we have the mettle to survive another twenty attempted slaughters?
One thing that will certainly help is full-throttle ecstasy from the stands, but already I can feel our love-drunk worship eroding beneath the uncomfortable twitch of expectation.
That said, this afternoon’s shift was an exceptional response to the midweek setback.
The first half was painfully straightforward. Reading huffed, harried and hustled but we bossed possession without breaking sweat and surged into the final third seemingly at will.
It is indeed the ease with which we strolled into a 2-0 lead that contributed to our second half wake-up call.
But even in top gear and rallying against a Forest side with one foot in the bath, they didn’t have enough. Not by a long shot.
Lee Camp’s heroics did no harm, his shameless and emphatic milking of the glory were the highlight of the afternoon.
Chest out, arms in the air, furious scowl, balls the size of coconuts. This is the breed of man that will carry us to greater things.
And the longer our ludicrous league run continues, the closer I get to that queue.
Ratings:
Camp – 9 – the fact that he was interviewed about a possible World Cup appearance is insane, but it is also a tribute to his exquisite form. He’s capable of the remarkable, but at the same time he organises, he commands, he claims, and he is confident enough to exude confidence to others.
Gunter – 7 – typical dogged Gunter, tidying up and roving forward with unbridled rigour.
Morgan – 7- another job well done.
Wilson – 7.5 – the born-again hero.
Shorey – 6 – I didn’t like his pre-match assessment and the challenge that prompted his sending off was hopelessly clumsy. He is a cut above most players in the Championship, but at £25,000-per-week I expect him to stay a cut above for a while yet.
Cohen – 7 – kept a cool head in picking out Anderson for the opener.
McKenna – 7 – less on his plate than usual, particularly as we controlled proceedings early on, but a characteristically solid performance.
Majewski – 7.5 – faded in the second half, as he often does, but his jaw-dropping comfort on the ball was a major factor in our stunning first half.
Anderson – 7.5 – cool finish and tireless display. Increasingly he’s one of the players I’d trust in the promised land, should the unthinkable happen.
Earnshaw – 7 – another game, another goal.
Blackstock – 7 – should have passed to Earnshaw late in the first half and it would have been a different game thereafter. But would Earnie have passed it? Don’t be stupid.
Subs:
Perch – 7
Chambers – 6.5
Tyson – 6.5
