Some of the reaction to Lincoln City’s recent results has reminded me that, whatever division we’re in and whoever is in charge, somebody will always be convinced we’re doomed.
That’s their prerogative; this isn’t opinion policing. However, the skill to handle other people’s opinions is something the modern world of social media and connectivity has thrust upon us to acquire. It’s been a journey, from arguing and debating, to a point of accepting we all think differently, and an opinion doesn’t define us, or people who disagree with you.
How you handle such differences is what maketh the man. Or woman.
Our head coaches, Chris Cohen and Tom Shaw, are the latest to find themselves being questioned, which feels harsh. There are perfectly reasonable discussions to have about performances. What gets me down is the eagerness in some quarters to declare everything a disaster, almost before the final whistle has gone.
We’ve heard it all before, right back in the National League. I remember criticism around the Burnley game because we were letting the league slip. The FA Cup was going to ruin our return to the league. We’d just experienced something extraordinary, yet some people were already looking ahead to how it would all go wrong.
There was criticism around the cup final against Shrewsbury Town because we were going to blow a play-off spot. I recall we drew 0-0 with Morecambe and all hell broke loose as people clamoured to condemn our chances. Then there was booing when Colchester United beat us 3-0 on the day we lifted the title a year later. Apparently, even having the trophy there wasn’t quite enough reassurance.
When Danny Cowley left, relegation predictions followed. After 2020/21, we were told we’d never have a better chance of promotion. I remember that hot take well: we blew the one chance, and 2021 was our 1982, an era-defining moment we’d never recover from. Only we did, didn’t we?
There were claims that we were sleepwalking into relegation under Michael Appleton, then more of the same under Mark Kennedy. Last season, Michael Skubala was getting calls for the sack after we lost 3-0 at Rotherham United, the penultimate defeat of the season. I read comments like ‘the crowd is turning’ as if that signalled some need for a change.
Now it’s Chris and Tom; I’m told sections of the fans are turning on. The names change, the division changes, but you can almost fill in the comments before opening your phone. In some instances, I could match the comments to the person- same people, every year. Only, the prophecies of doom are never fulfilled; we achieve the opposite of their doommongering, and they’re back next year trying again.
I find that exhausting, and I know I’m far from alone. You can come away disappointed with a result, already frustrated about something you’ve watched, then spend an hour making yourself feel worse by reading people who appear desperate to tell you how terrible everything is. I’ve developed a routine now that keeps me away from people’s opinions that I have no interest in. We have the Patreon Discord where we can debate, and often those opinions are built on evidence, and like any good opinion, open to change. It’s the evolution of football interaction, and it’s one way to remain sane.
Why do I need that? Because I get sucked into wild comments, sometimes comments from places of complete ignorance. I got drawn in last night to a post asking why we picked Draper over Ladefoged. That was one of the wildest, but I can’t help myself. I know I have to. I’ll read something, decide it’s ridiculous, and suddenly I’m composing a response to somebody whose mind I’m unlikely to change. Meanwhile, the dog still needs walking, and I’ve given another chunk of my day to an argument nobody is winning.
There’s always room for criticism, critique, concern and disagreement, but in moderation and with reason and balance. We should be able to discuss selection, tactics and mistakes without anyone questioning our loyalty. I should be able to look for positives without being labelled a club stooge: that hasn’t happened yet, but I guarantee it’s in the post (hopefully, it’s Evri and not Royal Mail tasked with delivery). Equally, we should recognise that the loudest, bleakest view on social media doesn’t have to become the thing that defines our own experience of following Lincoln.
The history above ought to help us with that. People found reasons to predict disaster during some of the best times we’ve had, during all of the best times we have had, so waiting for a point when everybody is happy seems a fairly hopeless strategy. You can please some of the people some of the time, but never all of the people all of the time. Another win might quieten things briefly, but it won’t end the pattern.
I need to remember this as much as anyone. Read less, scroll past, mute if necessary, and save the discussion for people who actually want one. Those determined to be negative will carry on; the useful change is in how you and I respond to them the next time we log on.
One of our posters on Patreon put it far more eloquently than I did when discussing the current round of cutting-edge observation, and I’ll leave you with this.
“Everyone understands this season is a struggle and a fight against relegation. Right up until the point the season actually is a struggle and a fight against relegation, then they’re asking why.”
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