A win, a draw and a loss. A week that somehow managed to contain the full Reading experience: a soaring high, a grim but predictable low, and then a surprisingly composed performance against one of the league’s form sides.
After the victory at Luton Town, it was almost inevitable we’d be flat against Mansfield Town. That match was instantly forgettable – the energy was wrong, the passing was imaginary and control was something happening to someone else.
So when Plymouth Argyle rolled into town, with
their excellent away form and huge travelling support, it had all the makings of another muddled, confidence-free outing.
Instead we got something… a bit more intriguing.
I’ll admit I feared the worst. Argyle have been relentless on the road and I wasn’t convinced we had the mental resilience to cope. I’ve said before that this squad still feels like it’s in its toddler phase: stumbling, learning, trying to ram the square shape into the triangle hole. But this performance hinted at something a wee bit more mature.
For the first time in a while, we played football. We moved it through the thirds with intent, especially in the first half.
We had width and pace through Randell Williams and the mildly rejuvenated Paddy Lane – both producing arguably their best displays in a Reading shirt. Kamari Doyle, restored to his natural number 10 role, roamed intelligently and actually received the ball where he wanted it.
These are the hallmarks of a Leam Richardson side – or at least what he wants to see. He’s spoken about the need for dynamism, for pace, for stretching the pitch and being braver in possession. For once, we saw glimpses of that vision.
Of course, the familiar flaws remain. Concentration – or the lack of it – remains our undoing. Both Argyle goals came from players switching off: Lewis Wing losing his runner, Jeriel Dorsett doing Jeriel Dorsett things. These moments will infuriate Richardson as much as they do us, but as he often says, “we are where we are”.
And that’s the truth. This is still a process. The football has been labelled dull at times, but the evolution is happening, even if it’s not always obvious.
I do still wonder what went wrong in the summer under Noel Hunt. How did we end up with a squad so visibly unfit that players are still catching up now? Was it inexperience? Complacency? A belief that we’d simply stroll through the division?
Maybe there’s a bit of all three in there. Maybe none. It’s just where the mind wanders when a season feels this uneven.
For a fleeting moment on Saturday, we were in the playoff places. After Randell Williams’ speculative cross/shot and O’Connor bundling in his third of the season, even I allowed myself a furtive glance at the table. Even I allowed myself to dream.
But as I nursed my post-match pint, my thoughts kept circling back to Jack Marriott. Kelvin Ehibhatiomhan may have enjoyed his redemption arc at Luton, but he hasn’t followed it up with shots, let alone goals. He started brightly against Plymouth, even won a few headers – no, really, he did. He even put himself about a bit… and then vanished like an ice cube in July.
And that, in many ways, is this Reading side in miniature: flashes of promise, followed by sudden disappearance, and then signs of something encouraging again. A rollercoaster of a journey that sometimes is enjoyable, sometimes needs a sick-bag.
There’s still hope – plenty of it – but it remains just that. As the fixtures tick away, the pressure will rise. We’re about to discover whether this group have the minerals to turn an unlikely dream into something real.
The next few away days will tell us exactly where we stand.
