To the eternal optimist our blood-and-balls slog against Sheffield United and Middlesbrough was the mark of a side grinding through adversity - as the triumphant invariably do.
To the discerning eye it was the paltry offerings of a spent force.
The reality is probably somewhere in between, and in any case we are far from crisis. But increasingly our fate seems mapped.
A run-in of false dawns, misplaced excitement, an exasperating stammer on our travels, and ultimately a ‘play-off lottery’ come six months late. Inevitably a summer of mourning our squandered January.
It all seems to make a lot more sense than the possibility of us surging into second place, and after a performance like today’s second half it’s a fait accompli that almost seems inviting.
I can’t put my finger on what went wrong. It just stopped. The second half display was not especially dreadful, it was just non-existent.
Leicester were fairly poor, an average side delivering a passable impression of a contender. It’s how they’ve thrived all season in a poor league.
But for at least 65 minutes of today’s game they had the upper hand simply by being on the pitch.
Forest started as though slowly waking from a long afternoon snooze, but by the end of the half the class was beginning to show. Cohen was beginning to burst through the centre, Blackstock had the measure of his hefty opponents and - as the bar rattled - we seemed to be on the cusp of glory.
Then came half-time. Effectively the end of the match.
At 0-1 our players did not relish the guts needed for a fightback, at 0-2 they couldn’t wait to get off the pitch, at 0-3 they sulked. And so did I.
The fact that it’s Leicester shouldn’t mean too much to a Forest fan. We’re the illustrious and apathetic statesmen, after all.
But it is impossible not to be shaken by the sight of so many revelling cross-breeds who, prior to the 70th minute, were among the most forlorn supporters we have seen in decades.
Never before has “you only sing when you’re winning” been more accurate.
And after the Forest fans respectfully and enthusiastically joined the minute’s applause for a man few of us have even heard of, it was somewhat galling to hear “where’s your Cloughie gone”, “Brian Clough, what a wanker” etc.
They're a bitter sort, Leicester fans. At the moment, so am I.
Ratings
Camp – 7 – quick off his line all game and not to blame for our meltdown. I didn’t see much of the free-kick but it beat him all ends up.
Gunter – 6.5 – caught short at the back a few times but did well on the overlap.
Wilson – 7 – a fairly solid performance, overall.
Morgan – 7 – reliable as ever, including a pitch-length dribble while his colleagues sulked.
Perch – 5 – not his worst performance, but he is a weakness and there is no way around it.
Anderson -5 – dismal, failed innumerable attempts to go past players and couldn’t get the ball under control.
McKenna – 5 – too many aimless balls and incomplete passes. If dropping him for a fortnight will bring him back to life then I’m all for it, not that we have much of an alternative.
Majewski – 6 – it didn’t really drop for him all afternoon.
Cohen – 6 – dreadful passing, but he covered a lot of ground and made some good runs in the first half.
Blackstock – 7 – an afternoon of doing his best with almost nothing.
Earnshaw – 5.5 – didn’t offer much.
Subs:
Tyson – 4.5 – didn’t offer anything.
McGoldrick – 5 – the usual.
Referee Lee Probert – 4 – a lot of referees are pedantic, but few are as smug about it. A catalogue of seemingly imaginary incidents.
