January is gone, but its horrors live on. A beautifully crisp day in London, though dazzling enough to have me strolling along to Euston jauntily, was not capable of loosening the knot of dread watching Coventry has wound in my abdomen over the past month.
Five games, one win two defeats, two draws., 5 goals, 7 against, countless sitters, one departed club legend, another clutch of mystical loan signings from the fringes of footballing society, and the now biblical-sounding mantra that 3 wins will have us safe – when just a few games ago the playoffs seemed within reach.
Twas community day when all through the ground, fiendish hordes of new fans ambled round meekly, unaware of how to act. My associate and I took our pew in the space recently vacated by the scoreboard, giving us a spectacular view of the thousands of empty seats left vacant by those with free tickets who had presumably been put off by the glorious rays of February sunshine.
Still, 20-odd thousand were there to work out another free verse poem of a formation from Mark Robins. I was pleased to see Sterling back in the team, while we were also gifted a sighting of new signing David Meyler (of fighting-Pardew fame) on the pitch, with golden boy Chaplin finally taken out of the firing line – presumably to demonstrate that we have a wealth of strikers, all equally capable of getting screamed at for missing sitters.