It all comes down to this. If we don’t get a win tonight, our season is over.
That’s dramatic, of course it is, especially as we have three games to go. Usually, when Lincoln City still have something to play for with three games to go, you’re looking down, not up. That’s how it was for a few years between 2007 and 2015. We looked down, not up. We feared others: we were never feared.
Since Danny Cowley left, we’ve probably spent more time looking down than up. Michael Appleton’s first season was outstanding, but we only avoided the drop in his second season with a few games to spare. 11th last season was a great achievement, but it flattered us, given how we were nervously glancing over our shoulders in February.
This season, it looked like it might be a third campaign where the business at the top end of the table was something we only paid passing interest in. Nobody gave us a prayer of taking our season beyond March unless it was staving off the drop. I aspired to be like Northampton, Bristol Rovers and Wigan, marooned in midtable with nothing to play for but pride as the season wound down.
I booked a holiday. I booked a gig for the last away day of the season. I feared apathy; I feared indifference. Those are the scourge of a football fan because whilst midtable safety is an achievement, it can leave you wondering where your team is going. It’s dangerous, consolidating because fans don’t see it as progress. It could be argued staying up on the last day of the season feels better, for a supporter, than finishing 12th and being safe in March. Of course, I’d rather be nothing in March than fighting the drop in April, but at least when you’re fighting it, there is some emotion. What is football if it does not fire the emotions?
The last 17 games have certainly done that. From a resignation of nothing on January 2nd to outright belief we were going up, the last 17 matches have given us a journey that some don’t get in a season, or even two or three. We’ve seen huge wins, battling points, and finally, a soul-crushing defeat at the wave of a lino’s flag. I felt so low on Saturday, and I still feel anger at the officials, more so having seen replays.
All of that aside, here we are, just 12 days from the end of the season with something still to play for. There’s a belief among some, perhaps an acceptance among others that it’s just a hill too far. The truth is, nobody knows. Some will be pessimistic and feel we’ll go to Oxford and become another stat on their remarkable mini-run. Others will feel we can go and get the win that just keeps things alive for a few more days.
We’re beyond Easter and we’re still feeling something. Very few clubs have that luxury, certainly not at the top end of the table, and that’s a credit to everyone who has been a part of this outstanding run. It bodes well for the future, and whatever happens tonight, this season will have been a success.
I don’t know what will happen tonight. I don’t know if our patchwork midfield will be able to combat Oxford’s quality or if our sturdy defence can pull a clean sheet out of the bag and give us hope. I don’t know if we’ll fight or if things will peter out, having missed our chance to keep the pressure on at the weekend. That’s the beauty of this Lincoln City side. We never know what is about to happen, the predictable approach from the last two men in the dugout has gone, and we’re left with something entertaining, something exciting and the early foundations of something successful.
Whatever the score tonight, whatever happens over the next week and a half, it is important to remember that. The season might be done and dusted in a few hours, but it is merely a battle in a longer war that I think we’re beginning to get the upper hand in.
Up the Imps.
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