Relegation and THAT game how did you feel?

That relegation had been inevitable for so long, it certainly lacked the 'shock' factor which would have made it harder to deal with. At the final whistle i didn't feel much at all. There were no immediate tears. It was only about 10 minutes after the final whistle, when i was sat on the pitch and 'Bridge over troubled water' drifted out of the speakers did the emotion of the occasion sink in! Even at that point, losing our league status was the least of my concerns. The club itself was in such dire straits, the primary concern was whether we'd have a club at all to support at the start of the following season. I think it was Cav that placed a flower on the centre-spot - which was particularly poignant and seemingly 'final'.

It was our relegation from League 1 a couple of seasons before that i found more upsetting. We'd had a run of excellent results to give ourselves a great chance of staying up. But it was all wrong from the very start at Colchester. Walking onto their terrace i saw a flag with a message saying something along the lines of 'well done TUFC for a great escape' and i knew we were destined to be punished for that kind of presumption. On top of that, the players just didn't turn up. Not a single player in our side that day can have been happy with their performance. But after our game and despite defeat, we were still up. And we stood there in that awful away end, with the players themselves stood around on the pitch, waiting for news from the MK Dons game. Then the news of their late winner came through, and it was all over. Sitting on the coach, with their fans clapping us as we pulled away the emotion was, i'm afraid, all too much.

I didn't even bother going to the Peterborough match, JMGull.
As a favour to my sister I did some painting at her house - as the equaliser and the final whistle came over the radio I was stripping wood back. I felt strangely detached from the whole event - I didn't even feel sad - I just didn't even want to talk about it.
I suspected that we had basically run-out of time in terms of our stay in the league when Atkins got the chop in the manner he did and was told to take charge of the team for the final time at Peterborough in the autumn.
The 5-2 defeat up there indicated that something was very, very wrong with what was happening- as Atkins seemed to allude to in his post match interviews.
The defeat at home to Macc in the new year in the last minute was when I was 100% certain that we were doomed to relegation and possibly liquidation.
The crowd for the day that we were relegated was just a shade over 2,000 - I was surprised we had that many.

I've never missed as many games as I did that season out of choice - even in the season that we finished bottom in 95/96 I missed only one single home match that season. I felt that at least in that season we were trying to improve the squad and there was light at the end of the tunnel.

The defeat to Exeter was altogether a different experience.
I never like to tempt fate - but singing "Que Sera Sera" in after Hilly had scored felt great and after the getting a fortunate win a few days before I felt that our luck was in and we were going to the final. The manner of the collapse will live with me for the rest of my time - watching it happen was bizarre - as the defence parted like the Red-Sea for Moses and they got one back I knew that we would capitulate - I felt totally helpless.

I was stood by the exit at the end ready to leave - I felt bad as the players deserved a good send-off after the valiant efforts of the season but just wanted to get out of the area ASAP.
Probably the worst feeling as a TUFC fan since the defeat at Leyton Orient in 98 and the loss to Swansea in the play-off final in 88 - I was a heartbroken 11 year old that rainy day at Plainmoor!
Any year ending in "8" has ended in the most horrible fashion for me as a TUFC fan!!!!

Last season served as reminder not to get carried-away by the good and not to get too disappointed with the bad.

This is the way the world ends - not with a bang but a whimper. I'd always thought that my worst day ever as a TUFC fan would be the day we lost our League status and I always thought it would be with a bang - a last day disaster with great wailing and gnashing of teeth.

The day ohtobeatplanmoor refers to is the day that I knew we'd had it - ridiculously early in the season. Like everyone I'd hoped that Roberts would take the club forward - although I was savaged by a simpleton on another forum for saying I was "cautiously optimistic" rather than 100% certain that someone I knew nothing about would be the best thing since sliced bread. I had picked up the feeling that it was all going horribly wrong before the day of the Peterborough game, but that Radio Devon interview sent a chill down my spine. I tried to convince myself it was sour grapes from a failed manager, but it just felt like an honest prediction of meltdown. I made a few enquiries over the next few days and all hope vanished.

For the rest of that season, my concern was survival as a club, not survival as a League club. Stupidly, I did allow myself a glimmer of hope with the brilliant performances against Grimsby and Wycombe, the returns of Colin Lee and David Graham - and that Williams looked class but only stayed for two games. The final straw for me was Accrington - after that, I was resigned again to relegation before it was made mathematically certain.

The last day game felt like a wake - but for an elderly grandparent slipping away in their sleep. Sad, but not unexpected and less traumatic for that.

I can honestly say that the shock and horror of the Exeter game last season was the most terrible feeling I have ever had through football by a country mile. I could hardly speak or look anyone in the eye for days and I was totally unable to enjoy Wembley at all. My memory of that day was seeing all the "casuals" or "daytrippers" smiling and enjoying their day in the sun and seeing fellow "hardcores" still with blank expressionless faces.

The reason it was so gutting was that we were ripped from the best-imaginable high to such a low in such a short period of time. When Hilly scored it was all just so absolutely perfect. After years of pain and disappointment, this was the kind of day we had all dreamed of. We were going back to the Football League. To top that, we were going to do it at Wembley. To top that, we were beating Exeter comfortably to get to Wembley. To top that we were doing that at Plainmoor and to really top that it was the legendary Hilly who had got the goal that put it beyond doubt. You couldn't have scripted it better if you'd tried. And then, we were kicked in the teeth and mugged - this is what you could have won. It's making me feel ill now just thinking about it.

That dreadful day at Colchester STILL rankles after all these years having watched hard earned and unlikely promotion thrown away through sheer indifference and apathy through the season and pre-season that pre-empted it.

Even the final, fateful day at Layer Road encapsulated the lethargy rotting away in OUR club at the time when the team put in such a laid back and half baked performance that was the legacy of the manager's insistence that they should play that way in direct contrast to the "up and at 'em, gung ho" style of the previous few games. He stood on that touchline, arms folded; apparently oblivious of the approaching disaster like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching juggernaut; and when the news came through from MK we were squashed out of sight.

Contrast to the great day of colour and passion, the irrepressible Yellow Army that steamrollered Tin Pot Barnet out of the League and saved OUR bacon at Underhill. It's days like that I prefer to store in my memory bank....................even if I couldn't explain to my girlfriend as I finally rolled home drunk, glazed and incoherent just why I was sporting bright yellow (not Gold mind you) pubes!

I am absolutely shocked and disgusted at your behaviour. How could you, of all people, show such a blatant disregard for OUR club's heritage?

Interesting thread.

The elation of Barnet has been tainted by the relegation for me. I recall a 'staying up' party at Marcus Davies' house (he of the B&W shots 'upstairs' at Plainmoor) after the game, and his comment amidst all the celebrations, 'of course, we will go down one day'. Sad and true, although I didn't want to hear it at the time. We were just delaying the inevitable. Even if Roberts hadn't come along I believe we would have run out of lives under Mike Bateson, such was the moribund state of the club.

As others have said, the Colchester game has to rank as the biggest kick in the teeth I've known as a fan. As a Torquay supporter, despite years and years of varying kicks in the teeth, nose and stomach, that one really took it out of me. I recall that driving home nobody really said anything until somewhere near Salisbury. I don't think the irony that only a year before we'd all made a near identical trip to Essex was lost on anyone. What a contrast in mood!

Jon's comments re. the Roberts year ring true. I barely remember anything about the relegation game. I just felt I had to be there out of some sort of duty, and my mind had been more focussed on the club's survival as a going concern for some time. Funny to think of the timeline of the penny dropping re. Roberts. I'm a natural cynic, so was a little bit suspicious from the start. I had a chat with Witney Gull at the Wycombe away game, where we both pondered why a bloke with no connection to the area or the team would want to buy an historically (let's face it) non-achieving club, and why was it that all he ever talked about was the new stadium? The real 'oh s**t' moment came when I travelled with Richard Hughes to the Willand Devon Bowl game and he confirmed what many rumours and the HE had suggested, and more besides. I seem to recall we had a lengthy chat with Jon at the game? The next real shocker was Boxing Day and the MK Dons game - the underhand dealing with Nathan Abbey's whistle-blowing and the real anger amongst the crowd. As I left the ground I felt like the blood had drained out of me. Horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

As for the Exeter game last season, that was actually so bad that I've sort of reconcilled myself to it in the same way that Primo Levi said you could even get used to a death camp (slightly extreme analogy, but you get my gist - some things are so awful that you just have to accept them as a fact and get on with it). I've lived in Exeter for 14 years, and (unlike Dave R, it seems!) learned that it's best to keep it polite - banter always comes full circle, and my years of civility to my City-supporting neighbours meant I had a pretty easy ride!