As Bournemouth’s Marc Pugh rolled in the second goal to confirm a ninth consecutive loss and 19th game without a win for Portsmouth, I afforded myself a wry smile – one of acceptance, resignation, and disbelief.
I should have been prepared, however. My years of supporting Pompey have taught me one thing – never rely on them to indulge your hope. It has often been a thankless task, one a fellow fan has described as “blind optimism”. When I bemoan a defeat, another interjects, “well, what did you expect?”
In the pits of my stomach, I do expect it. But, my heart never does. Why? It’s simple; the ties that were formed when I pulled the blue shirt over my head for the first time have refused to be cut despite the continued assault.
That assault, as any football fan will know, started in October 2008. Although some will say the signs were apparent before.
“Pompey couldn’t sell a player in the [transfer] window so we sell the manager.” Those are the words of Harry Redknapp the day he left Fratton Park for Tottenham. Five months earlier he had been on the Wembley pitch saturated with the praise and adoration from thousands of Pompey fans.
I almost missed it. With ten minutes to go, and the score at 1-0, I physically couldn’t watch. The nerves of the occasion were too strong, and thus I promptly shut the door and stuck both fingers in my ears.
The ensuing celebrations felt like an anti-climax. Perhaps it was the size of the achievement that stopped me from climbing over every piece of visible furniture and pouring champagne down my neck.
To steal that cup away from the elite was the best feeling I’ve ever experienced. It was worth every thumping of the desk and every broken remote control. When I read the match reports and sorrowfully watch Kanu’s winning goal I am reminded that it will forever be written in history. I and countless other Pompey fans shared the moment so often reserved for the select few.
We were the new pretenders, arriving to announce that if Russian millions could buy success for Chelsea, then they would for the south coast giants. Sadly, our Russian millions didn’t stretch as far.
Maybe I felt that on the day. Maybe I knew that it wasn’t going to get any better, and we had reached our maximum. What I could never foresee was the asset stripping, the instability, and the wretched fit and proper persons tests put in place by various authorities.
Almost five years on, barely a day goes by without another crisis story emerging. When Convers Sports Initiatives took over in June 2011 sensibility appeared to have returned- well, that’s what we told. By November, that was over. Another administration – after the first resulted in relegation from the Premier League – and another kick in the teeth.
The shared hope that we would assemble the parts needed to save the club from liquidation has appeared, however. The Pompey Supporters’ Trust, a combined effort of desire and finance from thousands of fans, has grown from a moral idea to give power back to the terraces to football’s revolutionary scheme.
Their preferred bidder status, given in October by administrators PFK, should have marked the end of the emotional assault. But, it wouldn’t be Pompey without foreign businessmen lurking with twitchy hands, eager to claw back their investments.
The current losing streak is almost irrelevant. Relegation is all but confirmed and the fall will continue. It might not end in League Two, either. If a takeover does materialise the foundations will need to be built – and years of lower league battles will be the norm.
Those intoxicating days of Premier League football and a European conquest are fondly remembered. I was wrongly swept up by the lure and glamour. Let’s hope our lesson is taught throughout the game, because, if the warnings are ignored, thousands of other fans will suffer as we have.
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