It's very difficult to get excited about these pergatorial pre-playoff bouts. Conversely, it's very easy to be riled by them.
Having made the laborious and fairly wet journey alone I was feeling markedly uninspired in the build-up to kick-off.
Alas, within seconds of the game starting, I was alive with the spirit of rage.
The sodden pitch, the black skies, the slurring natives. Forest didn't fancy this. Three blinks after the first whistle we fell behind. Another blink later we ballooned possession into the stands from the re-start.
The travelling faithful were silent, glum. Billy was nesting in the back of his dugout. Guy Moussi was literally hopping with fury as aimless balls whisped gaily and relentlessly over his head.
It looked like a long afternoon, and for the first half an hour I saw no way into the game.
The hosts looked disturbingly but unequivocally stronger. That trip to Wembley seemed a long way off.
But Bristol City have been noted for their sluggishness all season. The urgency drained, the natives receeded, the legs wearied.
I'll stop a fair bit short of saying the difference in quality started to show, but Moussi's inexplicable and brilliant equaliser swung them game in Forest's favour.
Without ever fitting into the shadow cast by the great Forest side of late 2009 we took charge of proceedings.
In the second half we increasingly bossed possession and carved open the wings. Joe Garner, in a rare appearance as a - hold on to your seats - centre forward, could and should have won it from three yards out.
And of course the game couldn't finish without an invitation for a little more scarlet-faced fury.
The City goalkeeper fled his goal like a reeling whippet and lunged into a 50-50 tackle with Nathan Tyson.
He came off badly in a challenge that could just as easily have shattered Tyson's glass legs.
But the referee brandished a yellow card, awarded the hosts a free-kick, and spent the eight minutes of stoppage time awarding sympathy free-kicks to protect the centre forward dinosaur who deputised between the posts.
If I may be churlish for a moment - he bottled it.
In fear of the flammable home crowd he began to question his decision to 'only' book Tyson and couldn't face a late winner.
Although it's probably just as well we didn't grab one. Given the sneering repugnance of the home supporters I fear I may have exploded with happiness if we'd won.
Strange things, these pre-playoff bouts.
Ratings:
Camp - 7
Chambers - 6
Wilson - 7
Morgan - 7
Gunter - 7
Boyd - 6.5
Moussi - 8
Perch - 7
Cohen - 6.5
McGoldrick - 6
Adebola - 6
Now for drinks.
