View From The Dolan: A Missed Opportunity

01/18/2025 03:02 PM

Ben's thoughts on a 3-1 home defeat to Stockport County, with the Royals missing the chance to bolster their playoff place.

Still January then. It feels like there should have been more games by this point, I have to say. It's not that I mind necessarily - I guess I've got used to the Tuesday/Saturday model, and having a few weeks when we have to wait seven days for a game feels as natural as a Trump inauguration.

It was another bitterly cold morning in Tilehurst and, despite that, the prospect of playing the seventh-placed team with us in sixth was as mouth-watering as a Black Forest Gateau (ie, very).

I'd left a lot later than planned, partly because I'd forgotten to kiss the cat goodbye so had to run up the stairs before leaving, but also because I was just faffing about. No rhyme, no reason, just pure faffing. Staying warm for longer proved to be a bad choice as the winter air hit me like an unexpected service charge at a mid-range family restaurant.

As I bobbed along the M4 (regular readers will know I switch between the west/south Reading route and the M4 to get to games), I wondered how we would cope against a team that really messed us up earlier in the season.

Would we have learnt our lessons? Could we concede fewer this time? If Joel Pereira were a fish, what fish would he be? (Probs a tiger shark). These questions stuck in my mind like winter dirt on the side of a white SUV (of which there were plenty, let me tell you!).

Despite this being the largest game of the season, the crowd seemed small still. Maybe the weather, the cost or the overall indifference towards the club meant people stayed away. I don't know, but it didn't feel like the big fight atmosphere I created in my head pre-game. Things were no better in the seated bowl before, at or after kick-off. I wasn't expecting literal fireworks or anything, but the atmosphere was very subdued, weary even, and it didn't feel like the energy was there at all.

With five minutes passed, any of the positive vibe that was in the arena fell away after the visitors netted. Six minutes later and it had definitely been taken out back for its last meal and cleanly and humanely destroyed. We were a complete mess.

I'd suggest we were shell-shocked but that would be an insult to shells, quite frankly. Physically basic defending had been replaced by a "just let them do what they want" attitude. We had no answer to them, in any area, and the game had gone from us less than a third into the first half.

Some youths near me found their voice and them working through their repertoire of swear words and anger was a sight to behold/hear. Of course, football in previous times has wound me up, but I can't imagine getting so irate that I'm close to permanently changing the colour of my face over it.

Have I changed? Has the game changed? Have I finally realised that, having done my research on ancient civilisations such as the Mayans, we don't really matter? Maybe. Or perhaps I was just too cold to care.

I was so cold at half-time that I went down to the concourse to scavenge the last of any pastries or pies lurking in their heated caves. All the hot dogs had gone, but cheese and onion pasties, balti pies and sausage rolls remained. I went for the CO pasty, largely because I'm dubious about where meat comes from these days.

I didn't know whether to eat it or put it down my shirt to warm me up, such was the rancid level of temperature. I settled on eating it and, surprisingly, it was OK. You know those cheese and onion sandwiches you get from places such as the Co-op, Morrisons and One Stop? It was like that, but hot and in pastry. A solid 6/10 for me - would recommend at least once.

Sam Smith was doing his level best to single=handely pull the whole team up and, on 61 minutes, he netted from some poor defending from the visitors. In truth, I didn't feel anything would come of it, but I summoned up my inner 'running group' persona and tried to be relentlessly positive (you know the type - the exercise equivalent of happy clappers at football).

Sadly and wholly expectedly, this positive feeling was extinguished like a cheap brand scented candle on second lighting as Jack Diamond converted on 68 to stretch the score to 3-1.

It was game, set and contest at that point and, as the clocked ticked towards the end of the regular 90, time to take my frozen knees and aching ears towards the car, never to speak of this game ever again (except in this very column… and on the pod on Monday... and if I can be arsed, a season review column/pod).

An opportunity to see how good we are was missed then, with County leap-toading us into sixth place at our expense. Another week on the training pitch awaits us before we travel east to the Orient (I'll need to check Leyton Orient is in an easterly direction to us) for another big fat challenge in this league. With 2 losses in the bounce in all competitions, the brief for that one needs to be "must not lose". It's still early, but the play offs could yet be step too far for us this season.

Until next time.

(Leyton Orient is indeed east of the Royal county, so what I said in the paragraph above does make sense and should be left in to the final published piece of this column).