If last week’s game against Wolves had represented a ‘new challenge’, then Saturday’s visit to Millmoor represented a very old and familiar challenge. This would be the time-honoured traditional slog, no-one was under any illusions, we all knew what to expect. We’d have to be strong, determined, and bloody-minded to take points out of this one or my name’s not David Sheepshanks.
For us exiled fans, match days are a mouthwatering prospect. I mean, match days that really do mean attending a game of football, free from work pagers or a menacing family committee hellbent on visiting Ikea. As a man of the cloth, I would suggest to anyone wishing to know what a definition of hell is, to visit their nearest Ikea store. You can’t even pop out to the car for an update fron Radio 5 without having to run round the entire building.