The Beauty Of Low Expectations

Expectations are massive. In life.  As a thing.  I’ve talked about it before but when you go out for a massive night that you’ve been looking forward to for months, you can sometimes end up a bit deflated when it isn’t as good as you’d hoped.

Other times, you go out for a pint, and come home 8 hours later having had a cracking night.

And right now, I have low expectations.  I suspect that I am not the only one.

The disappointment of failing to achieve promotion when it once looked pretty likely is over.  There was even a point when I thought that I thought we might collapse totally and finish seventh.  Beating the mighty Rotherham 5-1 even gives that slight touch of hope.

Obviously (I despise that word) the rumblings of discontent off-field go on and it would be amiss not to acknowledge that.

If we lose today – especially if we get hammered and have no chance in the return leg on Tuesday, I don’t think the disappointment is going to be particularly overwhelming.  A shrug of the shoulders, we’ll dust ourselves down (sorry) and get on and enjoy the summer.

I’d rather be in our position of having not beaten Derby this year and being the underdogs.

I don’t have any burning desire to go back into the Premiserable League or to go back to Wembley.  Interesting that Sheffield Wednesday won 2-0 last night – the team I picked back in January to go up with us.  Hmmm.  Whatever will be, will be.

But you know what.  I just have a feeling that we might sneak a draw here, even a 1-0 victory.

Wembley weekend is my only free weekend until August.

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