As Christmas miracles go, 13 points from 15 is right up there with the best presents that ever appeared under the tree, in the garage, the outhouse, or wherever your family hid the big ones. But look at us now: four points off the playoffs. Who had that on their festive bingo card? Not me.
We could try to pass this off as the “new manager bounce”, but Leam Richardson has been here long enough that any bounce should have deflated by now. The initial boing was muted, granted, but we’re edging towards
full‑blown trampolining.
The win against Burton Albion was quietly effective without us ever getting beyond second gear. In truth, it was almost frustrating that we didn’t bludgeon them into submission. Functional but not fabulous, passable if not proficient.
Those thoughts alone feel alien after the Dai Yongge era, when every win was treasured like a rare artefact. With relegation looming over us like an EFL audit, any three points felt like a liferaft. More points meant a softer landing if the worst happened. At least, that’s how my brain rationalised it.
In my muddled world, this current uprising feels different. We’re not flying yet – my feet remain firmly on the ground – but at least we’re turning the oil tanker rather than sinking with it. TL;DR: we’re better. A lot better.
The follow‑up win against Stockport County cemented that feeling. It was the first time we’ve looked anything like the team we want to be. Other wins have been tidy enough without pulling up trees, or freak events like Plymouth Argyle away – proper Halley’s Comet stuff.
I’ve always judged our performances by the confidence they exude. For a long time, that confidence simply wasn’t there. Against Stockport, for the first time this season, I felt it flicker into life.
It’s not something you can point to individually – it’s how the collective fits together. The 106 team had this in spades: the jigsaw pieces clicked effortlessly, everyone knew where everyone else was, even if blindfolded. This group is showing the faintest, earliest signs of something in that direction. They won’t reach the 2005/06 side’s level – almost certainly not – but there’s… something.
Stockport came in with the best away record in the league. They’re settled, established and know exactly what they are. We had to match them and cause them problems. It was a chess match that needed to avoid a stalemate. One goal felt inevitable – but for whom?
Even late on, both sides could have nicked it. But with our rose‑tinted specs on, we still felt it could be us. So when Jeriel Dorsett laid it off to the man who only scores bangers, the rest wrote itself.
In that moment, I felt it: we’ve turned a corner. Not perfection, not a guaranteed playoff charge, but something real. Intangible, but unmistakable.
We matched Stockport and didn’t wilt. The defenders defended, the midfield functioned, and only up front did we fall short. Jack Marriott looked spent and Matt Ritchie was marked out of the game. (No surprise that, once he went off, the game opened up – Ben Osborn suddenly had nobody to shadow.)
The squad now get a couple of weeks off after a manic Christmas run. They’d all play again tomorrow if you let them, but the breather will do more good than harm.
And as the recruitment bat‑signal lights up the Berkshire sky, all we can hope is that the next arrivals look a lot more like Marriott and a lot less like Matty Jacob.
