But on the bright side, we've got Izzy Iriekpen's shirt
Our time in the Championship is over. Now that it's confirmed, it doesn't feel as bad, somehow, as when it was just hanging over us. I suspect that's because I don't have all that stupid useless hope clogging up the works.

Oh, what am I saying? There's always hope. Hope that we'll win the league again next year and bounce straight back. Hope that we'll hang out in League One for a few seasons until we're ready to make the step up. Hope that in another 43 years, we'll hit the comparative big time again. Hope's like that.

So I cried. I cried when we were playing like crap and I cried when we were being brave and defiant and I cried when I redefined relegation so we're not down until the season's over. And I'm crying now because I've redefined my way to victory - or at least not-defeat - but I can't find words to explain it that don't sound either melodramatic or plain stupid. And because I know, if I would only face facts, that redefinition is as thin a facade as hope.