"We may not have deserved to win, but the reality is, we won." And there you have it, straight from McCarthorse's mouth. The difference between the two sides, as Uncle Boff would have put it, was no greater than the width of a gnat's widger. The only difference was a grotesque fluke of a goal, as Sears saw his poked effort loop off Mancienne's legs past a mesmerized Darlo.
Dipswitch played okay in parts, but so did Forest (there were times in the second half, in fact, when Forset looked like the home side). But it wasn't to be, for a variety of reasons which have by now become fairly obvious. San Antonio was way below his best and couldn't produce his usual Miracles. Akpom, occasionally clever as he was, looked ominously like one of those strikers who never actually strike. And although there was enough energy from Forest to suggest the match mattered, there wasn't that focused energy which leads to an overwhelming desire to win at all costs. If you don't know what we're talking about, imagine that we were hanging on to a play off place like Dipswitch, and concede that this would have given us that extra ten per cent of essential drive, or maybe even that extra ten per cent of luck.
So we would say, in the end, that it's unfair to judge players or manager in these end of season games, partly because they haven't mattered for a while now, partly because they seem to be influenced by some perverse version of Chaos Theory, but mostly because we've no idea what next season's Forest will look like.
Anyway, pfft to yet another season which promised so much and dribbled away down the plughole of ordinariness. But, safe in our position of mid-table mediocrity, we can now keep an amused eye on more important matters such as the play-offs, and which media corporation will win the general election.
Forgive us, we have whisky to drink.