Just Like Buses

It's been a depressing 635 minutes since Marcus Tudgay's last gasp goal against Ipswich on November 19th 2011. The optimism that had grown since Cotterill's arrival has been destroyed and replaced by nightmares of an imminent return to the hell of League One. The manager, to some extent, has been right with his post-match summary of the games but his claims of misfortune could only really last so long. In truth, we didn't deserve to win six of those seven games because of an inability to create any damn chances. Only Brighton was an example of real injustice but, even then, we hardly tested the opposition 'keeper.

It, of course, would have been easier to stay in bed and enjoy the Bank Holiday but 800 Reds made the effort to find their way to Portman Road, including PL and I. It was hard to be too positive as the train departed Nottingham at 08:34. Seven games without a goal speaks for itself and the journey was done purely on hope rather than belief. Some, however, was on its way...

I say it every year but, as away trips go, Ipswich is about as reliable as they come. It's a luxury these days to step off a train and be five minutes from the ground and the town centre which is full of decent pubs. We had time for a couple so headed to familiar haunts in the shape of Wetherspoons and The Rep. Team news was anticipated more than usual with expected changes and the possible return of our old mate, Marlon. The formation and the inclusion of Boateng were maybe a surprise but our conversation pre-match had centred around the need to change things around; something that Cotterill has been reluctant to do of late.

As I reached the top of the steps into the stand the very first person I saw in front of me was Harewood. He is still an odd looking creature but it was good to see him back in the Garibaldi, even if it was only for fitness purposes for the time being. What was quite remarkable was the lift that it gave us. Marlon was the last to leave the pitch and his farewell salute geed up the crowd to the extent that I convinced myself we would score. Quite what the logic behind that was I do not know but this suddenly felt like the day. Something I certainly hadn't felt half an hour earlier.

When a game is important, there is always something I pick up on. It's doesn't necessarily have to be a massive 'do or die' encounter for this to happen but I feel it occurs when it's needed most. It's the sound of 'Come on You Reds' moments before kick-off. In my head, hearing that is the signal that this one isn't just another game. At Portman Road, it blasted out of the upper tier of the Cobbold Road Stand and I, for reasons I am never too sure of, grew a few feet taller and prepared for battle. I genuinely think I need help but something just gets hold of me. Weeks of increasing apathy evaporated and I remembered NFFC are the greatest football club in all the world. 'Come on You Reds'.

The mood of the away support was buoyed further by an impressive start from the boys in Red. We were having chances but we have been here before I told myself. And then... it happened...

Where were you when JFK was shot?

Where were you at the fall of the Berlin Wall?

Where were you on 9/11?

And where were you when Marcus Tudgay scored at Portman Road after seven minutes?

Add it to the list and, for once, I was there. The scenes were hilarious, people were screaming in a combination of delight and relief that we had yanked the monkey from our back and shot the fucker in the face. I didn't, as expected, die of shock but joined in with the general craziness of 800 people remembering how to celebrate a goal!

And it wasn't long before we got another!

The rust had gone and this was full pelt as we danced and sang. 'Just like fucking buses, just like fucking buses' I kept shouting like an absolute lunatic! Quite why I felt the need to shout this out rather than just keep it to myself is beyond me but this was a rather jovial moment of mine, you understand. The drug was back.

'Who scored' I asked?............... 'Garath McCleary' came the reply and I died of shock*.

When I came round a moment later, PL was in tears. I surveyed the scene and thought to myself that I should probably try and not get carried away, there was a long way to go but the relief was immense. It's ridiculous what a game of football can do. This was, after all, Forest winning at Ipswich; hardly the stuff of legends but the smiles restored on the faces of fans and players was a sight to behold. If we lose the next ten I might just cling to moments like this one.

Inevitably, we had to make it a little hard for ourselves. The penalty was especially cruel in how it hit both posts and then returned to the original upright which sent it spinning into the net. The home crowd smelt the blood of a renowned feeble Forest team but they held firm and, remarkably, decided to go and score another. The damn cheek! Three!

It was enough to shatter the oppositions assault and hand the points to Forest. 'We're Nottingham Forest, we'll score when we want' we sang followed by the humorous 'We only beat Ipswich' as time ticked towards a very, very precious victory. Quite possibly a vital one. We now have achieved the rather odd record of having scored 29% of all our goals this season against Ipswich in addition to scoring six goals in our last nine games - all against them!

Despite the delight at the win, the big question is how we will react. The party line has been that one goal will sort us out and signs were encouraging in the immediate aftermath of that one goal but consistency is certainly needed otherwise this victory will be consigned to a lonely high point. 800 of us have seen they can do it, now its time to show the rest.

Don't let us down.

*This is, of course, a poor attempt at humour that subscribes to the totally incorrect notion that Garath McCleary is a bit useless. Anybody at Portman Road will tell you that he is actually a footballing God and makes Messi look like Chris Allen. And I didn't die of shock, I just feinted.**

**For anyone that's taking that a bit too literally, I didn't feint at all... PL did though.