So much for calculations, so much for standing tall

Another long trip down south, another soul-crushingly disappointing performance. It just doesn’t feel like a promotion push, does it? We’re on course for our highest league finish (in terms of where we are in the division, not in the whole league, obv) in years, we could be three games away from Wembley, and none of us are looking forward to the next game, and no one seriously thinks we’ve got any chance of going up. It’s shite.

Fondop was up front on his own, again, because that’s worked so well all season. Once again, he got fouled all game and nothing was given. The hilariously shit commentators on Radio Gloucestershire decided this meant he was cheating (God’s number 9 cheating! On the day that His Holiness was being laid to rest!), and that he was the ‘pantomime villain’. It didn’t help matters when Harries was subbed off with a head wound after an accidental clash with Mikey.

Seriously, I never want to hear any of you slag Roy off ever again. I’d expect BBC commentators to have done a tiny bit of research and know that we’d already secured a play-off place, but they repeatedly said we needed a result at the (oh God) New Lawn to be sure. At one point, Fondop raised a hand in apology and acknowledgement after he failed to bring a long ball under control, and they thought he was appealing for a corner and accused him of ‘blatant cheating’. Had they ever watched a game of association football before?

None of which should distract us from the fact that we were shite, created very little despite the best efforts of Yoganathan (who the Bollock Brothers on Radio Gloucestershire kept mistaking for Uchegbulam – I mean, they’re not VERY alike, are they?), Forest Green created pretty much all the chances, and it was no surprise when we yet again conceded just before half-time through an admittedly very good shot by McCann.

Mellon said in his post-match presser that we were “OK” first half. I respectfully disagree. It sure as shit didn’t get any better in the second half. Was Pett’s free kick, that their keeper palmed away, the closest we had to a shot on goal?

Just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse in this run-in, Fondop, having had the shit kicked out of him all afternoon, had to go off injured 56 minutes in. Maybe he wasn’t “going down softly”, eh, Radio fucking Gloucestershire? He was replaced by Garner. Up front, on his own, at the age of 47, having hardly played all season. He was his usual self, and somehow made it to the 89th minute until he got booked for being a gobby little shit.

The only positive of the day was the return of Reagan Ogle, who came on for Sutton and immediately did one of those long throws that everyone loves so much. It was worth a go.

Oh well. I hope Mellon enjoyed watching Celtic winning the league earlier in the day.

To compound our misery, Rochdale have found their form at exactly the wrong time and are guaranteed to finish fourth. So, we’re now clinging on to fifth. Ugh.

It’s just all really disheartening, isn’t it? I’m surprised you’ve made it this far reading about it. Well done.

If my dad had been a more responsible parent and taken me to Anfield when I was little, I could have been on the Kop on Sunday, watching Liverpool cruise to their 20th league title. Instead, I was watching the game in the pub and looking on Google Maps to see if it’s feasible to get to Truro City on public transport. (Reader, it is not.)

No match to ruin our Saturday today, thank fuck. We’re off to see the Manics, which will be far more entertaining than watching Latics. Do you think they’ll do Of Walking Abortion? I hope they do Of Walking Abortion. Actually, I really hope James does the Grandstand theme.

Enjoy your football-free weekend. If you can bring yourself to go the game on Monday, get there in good time, as there’s going to be a period of silence to remember the members of the Latics family we’ve lost this season. We HAVE to beat Ebbsfleet, don’t we? DON’T WE? Who knows, maybe we’ll see the return of Monthe and Norwood, get something approaching a strong squad together, and hit the ground running in time for the play-offs. Maybe. We can but dream. KTMFF.

Written by Arlene Finnigan