The Weekly Bobbins: Patience Running Thin

Another day, another team winning promotion in our own back yard. Another dollop of salt rubbed into wounds that were already raw after a week of every scab being picked off one by one. It’s not supposed to be like this, is it? And yet here we are.

All week the rumour mill churned out the same line: Leam Richardson was on the brink. And honestly, if he had gone, nobody would’ve blinked. Instead, Rob Couhig doubled down, insisting Richardson was still his man.

In his open letter – which covered a whole range of topics – Couhig leaned heavily on the idea that we’re still a work in progress.

And yes, that’s undeniably true. We still feel the lingering pain of the ruin Dai Yongge left behind. Fans, myself included, are impatient and do want the moon on a stick. But the more pointed issue is this: we’re not seeing a single ounce of progression, on the field at least. If we can’t have the moon, at least give us a stick!

Couhig’s loyalty is admirable in theory, but it’s also wrapped up in financial reality. Sacking Richardson and his entire coaching staff would cost money. Hiring replacements would cost more. So, for that reason alone, it’s not exactly high on Couhig’s to‑do list, whether we agree with it or not.

But loyalty in all quarters has to be earned. And this week we learned of the reported growing disconnect between Richardson and the players – one of them even going to the local media to vent about himself or others being played out of position, baffling tactics and a general lack of belief in whatever the manager is trying to sell.

The new owners have worked hard to repair, resolve and restore the deep fissures in this club, but somehow have helped to create a different kind of disarray.

Then came Richardson’s post‑match line: “We’ve got to come together as a football club.” On its own, it’s nothing dramatic. But to be saying it now, in April, after months in charge? That’s quite telling.

Why aren’t we together? What are the root causes? What’s being done to fix it? Isn’t it the manager’s job to make it all come together?

Because if the problem is the manager, then we’re in real trouble. The fans have had enough. If the players have checked out too, how on earth is this turned around?

Supporters have endured everything over the last decade: the threat of losing the club entirely, an owner who treated it like a gambling chip, a playoff final heartbreak, relegation, points deductions, chaos. We survived all of it.

And still, we’re not seeing signs of progression or something to be proud of. Yes, it’s only one season into a new era, but patience is at its thinnest in years.

More energy but not enough cohesion against Cardiff

As for the Cardiff match… what can you say? I had the sense of fait accompli that we were going to lose, regardless, so anything else was a bonus. So, it was better, without being able to quantifiably say exactly why.

Actually, no – that’s not fair. Andy Rinomhota was excellent. A proper breath of fresh air. He was our man of the match by a mile. If there’s a contract to sort for next season, he’s the obvious one. A Reading team with Rino in it is a far better proposition than one without him.

Beyond that? A bit more energy, a bit more effort, but the mood was still off. You could see a huge containership of weight on their shoulders. Whatever confidence remained is a horizon away.

It still felt like a bunch of strangers turning up for a kickabout and improvising roles on the fly. There was some character, but not enough to remotely convince that all is well at Camp Bearwood.

Only when Paudie O’Connor took an elbow to the face did we see any real fire. For a few minutes, there was anger, fight, something resembling desire.

There were tweaks – Lewis Wing less involved, Rino driving forward, Paddy Lane looking vaguely like a professional footballer again. The shape was different, the style slightly altered, but without any belief behind it.

The flame of fortitude flickered, but nowhere near brightly enough to trouble Cardiff. While our opponents looked the part, we appeared as cohesive as a wet paper bag.

And somehow, we’re still not mathematically out of the playoff picture. Despite my previous missive, the fork has not yet been thrust through the sausage. Technically we’re alive. Spiritually, we’re well and truly done.

One way or another, just end it; everyone concerned has had enough.