In the blame of the father
10/02/06 | by Nick Miller

In the sad tale of the demise of Nottingham Forest there have been plenty of fall guys, scapegoats, hate figures, totems for blame and targets for ire. Most people have a different idea of who is responsible for the state of our football club: Joe Kinnear, Paul Hart, Nigel Doughty, Nigel Wray, Irving Scholar, Gary Megson, David Platt – I could go on. However, my Dad has his own theory, ignoring all of those who have managed the club in some capacity in the last few years, and firmly placing the blame square at the feet of one Mike Riley, Premiership referee and Manchester United fan extraordinaire.

I’ll explain. In the 1998/99 season, I’m sure you’ll all remember, Forest were rock bottom of the Premiership, having sold two of the previous season’s key players for buttons, causing another key player to get the ’ump and take his bat and ball home…. whilst still demanding a ‘loyalty’ bonus. It’s good that we can laugh about it now.

On the great buck-toothed sulker’s return, Forest took a trip to Filbert Street to try and end a winless run of 13 games, and all seemed to be going well after a young colt named Harewood crossed for van Hooijdonk to put us 1-0 up. However, this is when it all went – for want of a better phrase – tits up. Leicester equalised from a penalty, inexplicably awarded by Riley after a shot was slammed into Andy Johnson’s hands from two yards away. The referee then excelled himself further by sending off van Hooijdonk for wafting his foot in the general direction of Steve Walsh, who reacted the way one would after treading on a landmine.

Inevitably, Leicester went on to win 3-1, and Forest didn’t win for another seven games, sealing their relegation fate and of course acquiring the chronically embarrassing services of Ron Atkinson in the process. This, I was assured by Dad, would have been the turning point of our season if we’d won. Therefore, he always claims that our current plight is the fault of Mr Michael Riley.

You should be in the room when Riley comes on TV. We’re inevitably treated to the “He’s the reason we were relegated” speech, shortly followed by the sort of expletives that would make a pimp blush. Of course, my Dad is a sensible, intelligent man, and doesn’t actually believe that Forest are in the Third Division, haplessly bumbling their way around the toilets of the Football League, because of 90 minutes of chronic refereeing.

However, blaming Riley is just about as sensible as blaming anyone else. What, may I ask you, is the point? You can rant and rave about who is responsible, but what good is it going to do? You’ll just have wasted five minutes that could have been spent doing something constructive. 

It all boils down to the point that I, several members of the LTLF forum and the excellent Elliott Stanley have raised in the past – support the team, rather than wasting your energy on things that will do no good. However bad you think the situation is at the City Ground, I’m afraid you’re stuck with it. Face up to the fact that you support Nottingham Forest, and get behind the team.

Having followed Forest since I was seven, few things surprise me anymore.

However, when half time came at the Blackpool match, the score was 1-1, and although we were reasonably poor, I’d certainly seen worse Forest performances.

A group of blokes sat in front of us, who in truth hadn’t paid too much attention to the game thus far, decided that it wasn’t worth staying for the second half, and instead they would go to the pub and watch the rugby.

On what sphere of logic does it make sense to travel halfway across the country, spend £20 on a ticket, only to bugger off at the mid-point of proceedings? Idiots.