There have been times in my life where Forest has saved me. I’m not exaggerating. Without The Reds in my life I don’t know where I would be.

Frank Clark and Collymore’s goals helped me come to terms with the aftermath of my parents’ divorce, in 1994; Paul Hart’s young team helped me cope with the grief of losing my mum, in 2003, and despite the season finishing in abject misery (the Yeovil one), without the escapism of the City Ground, the loss of our first son would have been harder to deal with.

I didn’t renew my season ticket at the start of the season. I didn’t exactly have the enthusiasm following what had gone before and it seemed like a good decision five games in. The other reason for not renewing was because I was about to embark on a career as a teacher. I had to take a step back from Forest Land.

After 20 years at the BBC, I quit. It was time for me to go and try something else. I’d always wanted to be an art teacher and the redundancy money helped me get on a course. Following lockdown, to suddenly be in a lecture theatre with other trainees, some of the best human beings I’ve ever met, was amazing. To be in a classroom working with brilliant youngsters who cared about art and seemed to like me, was also exciting.

Despite what was happening on the pitch I was happy. I shrugged Forest’s woes off. Of course I cared, it mattered to me but I could keep them at arm’s length. I had no control over what was happening therefore I was not going to worry about it. I was convinced we’d lose to Derby and while it was on I went for a walk, leaving behind my phone. I got the message that Brennan had equalised and while it made me momentarily happy I still thought we were doomed. But it didn’t matter, I was going to be a teacher. 

Even when Steve Cooper came in and things picked up, I wouldn’t allow myself to get excited. I knew we’d be ok, we’d stay up and at that point that was all I cared about. I started to think we could do better after Bristol and then when I sat on my own in the bar of a Parkdean resort to see Jack Colback bag a late equaliser at QPR. However, due to a lack of cash and time, I avoided going. I didn’t listen to the radio, watch any games, just followed online. I didn’t want to get too excited and be let down again. 

The teaching hit the skids just before Christmas. I won’t bore you with what went wrong but in January I quit. It was a devastating day. To abandon those kids I’d built up positive relationships with and the friends I’d made, it was all too much and I broke down. What a fucking failure I am, I thought. All that enthusiasm I had had somehow disappeared. But as a friend pointed out, it took me three months what it took him five years to figure out that teaching wasn’t for me. 

I had no job. No idea what I wanted to do with my life. The money was running out and my wife was under pressure to keep us all fed. It wasn’t quite that bad, but I put myself under a lot of pressure to get work. I even considered becoming a Deliveroo rider. This is when I allowed myself to re-enter Forest Land. I was late to the party. I watched Forest beat Arsenal on TV and afterwards I approached one of the sponsors about a job. They gave me an informal interview and while I didn’t take it any further, it gave me confidence. Basically, I knew my stuff (media, copywriting etc) and people were willing to pay me for it.

I watched Forest beat Derby and so I was so inspired by Brice Samba’s performance (the forehead egg, refusing to give the ball back after their pen and the hands-behind-his-back trolling of Morrison) I began to draw again. I drew a picture of Samba trying to look innocent. I shared it on Twitter and it did well with fans. I realised ever since I was a kid that my art was inspired by Forest. I remember drawing a picture of Neil Webb at primary school and getting a good mark. I did a picture of Des Walker for my art GCSE and one of Bryan Roy for my A-Level. I should have known that drawing that first picture, of Samba, meant something. If I was drawing Forest players again, something good was happening at the City Ground. Everyone could feel it. We just couldn’t talk about it in case it fell apart, again. I went to the Barnsley game and wondered whether it would be like the Charlton game, after the Leeds win, but no, despite not playing that well, we won 3-0. No fist bumps. But who cares. Another three points.

While job hunting I did more drawings. I’m sure you know how desperate it is trying to find a job – the forms, the phone calls, the anguish, the knockbacks. But retreating into Forest Land made me happy. The Leicester game made me cry. We just looked so fucking good and it was simply tears of happiness. My brother-in-law is a Leicester fan and while I had no intention of rubbing his face in it, I received a message from him to say how good we were. Getting that kind of respect and following what Alan Shearer said about Forest, the low feelings I was experiencing began to evaporate. I drew Joe Worrall doing a head tackle. That’s the kind of commitment that gets a team promoted, I didn’t dare say at the time. But it is.

Further inspired, I did more drawings to the point where a friend suggested I try and make a living from it. I didn’t really have the heart for that. Making art is for me, and trying to make a living from it is a slog. I needed a job with the intention of keeping art as a hobby. Luckily everything fell into place and I started my new career the day after we lost to Liverpool. Clocking my Forest wallet, I was introduced to two of my new colleagues, ‘this is third round’ and ‘this is fourth round’ – Arsenal and Leicester. It was my first feeling that we were at the top table again. Of course, we still needed to earn our place in the Premier League and of course, we did. You Reds.

The feeling that I had failed at teaching eventually dissipated. I had given it a shot. I did my best. I would have failed had I not tried it. I don’t regret that time. I would have regretted carrying on. Saving face. And had I continued I wouldn’t have got to see Forest more, I wouldn’t have made the play-off semi-final, I wouldn’t have made it to Wembley. And that’s something I would have regretted because I had one of the best days of life. 

Here’s to Forest Land. x

P.S This is what it meant to me: https://youtu.be/dCPxHhGYX3g