Nottingham Forest 3 - 4 Blackpool (4-6 On Agg)

Here we are again. Like England in World Cup penalty shoot-outs, the outcome is as predictable and consistent as Forest in playoff semi's. Is it any wonder every neutral I spoke to in the days leading up to this game were feeling miles more optimistic than I was? Unlike our previous two playoff encounters where I chose to get the report done quickly in an attempt to expunge the pain, this time I've had to ponder and get through the working week before trying to reflect on another dose of playoff heartache and disappointment, which has left me feeling as flat as a pancake far more than I thought possible.

And yet it all started so well. Forest looked primed and ready right from the off and in the expected deafening arena systematically tore into Blackpool in a manner we've been used to seeing against most visitors to City Ground this season, with Radi coming close to re-creating his early strike against our mutton-molesting neighbours back in August with a telling shot which narrowly cleared the crossbar. But five minutes later he combined brilliantly with Blackstock and sent in a low cross from the left where Earnie in killer mood was in perfect position to slide the ball home beyond the reach of Gilks.

A 26,000-voice eruption capable of diverting aircraft more effectively than volcanic ash, as parity was restored so early on. I had always quietly hoped (at least since Saturday) that an early breakthrough such as the one we managed here, and we ought to be all right.

And yet from this point on, we ceased to be anything like as effective for the rest of the game as we almost immediately began to lose shape. The game developed into an end-to-end affair, and although Cohen and Blackstock occasionally managed attempts on goal, there was plenty of action at the other end of thew pitch for us to worry about, most notably Charlie Adam (booed constantly by the home fans) attempting a 25-yarder requiring Lee Camp to go full stretch to tip the ball over. My phone bleeped with the odd message from friends watching it on the box, commenting on how dangerous Blackpool looked when going forward, which they did with their 4-3-3 formation which met with little resistance in midfield since we were too busy trying to counter with a little width of our own, though Tyson was getting little joy out on the right.

One common factor in our encounters with Blackpool (certainly this season at least) has been the luck which has gone Blackpool's way. This game was to prove to be no exception as we were denied not once, but twice by an extremely dubious offside flag either side of half time. The first involved Blackstock on the break and had only Gilks to beat as he advanced into the box. As I made my way to the gents during half time you could hear the fans fuming in the concourse area as the replay on Sky showed the flag was wrongly raised.

Robbery, and then some. Even worse right after the restart when Blackstock was involved again, this time as provider setting up Earnie with a deft pass just right of the box which he had little trouble burying from twelve yards. We were well into wild celebrations as this all appeared to be going exactly to plan, when the sight of a raised flag took the wind right out of our sails. Delight in the stands turned quickly to rage as it looked like luck was about to favour Blackpool just once too often. How often have we had to report that on poor decisions like this that games turn?

Blackpool, heartened by this latest let-off, sensed this could be their moment and poured forward. Eventually this paid off for them when a rare but fatal hesitation by Camp allowed DJ Campbell to equalise. The ball had been sent forward by Taylor-Fletcher which looked to have been over-hit, so Campy ought to have reached it, and would have done but for a lapse of concentration which allowed Campbell to poke the ball into an empty net.

The 2000-strong sea of orange (dormant for long periods after surrendering their advantage earlier) erupted into loud celebration. Stunned silence prevailed everywhere else as, still stung from the disallowed goals, Forest looked less likely to turn it round a second time.

But they did. Barely five minutes later and Blackstock had to struggle for a Gunter cross from the right before finding Earnie on the edge of the six-yard box, who simply buried it. Game on again, and a bit of tightening up, with maybe some fresh legs (McKenna was becoming less influential as he visibly tired) and we may yet be all right.

But in the event it was Blackpool who were first to make the changes when Ormerod came off to be replaced by Dobbie on 69 minutes which sparked one of the most dramatic collapses by Forest I have ever seen. The next ten minutes were a blur as Dobbie (together with DJ Campbell systematically took our defence - especially on the left side - quite literally to pieces.

The wheels fell off big style. And, significantly it began to unravel just at that critical stage of the game (70+ minutes) from which there is no Forest replay. And the alarming pattern in which it happened rather told the underlying story of our season, and another lesson which just never seems to be learnt. From being level on aggregate after 69 minutes to being three behind in the space of ten devastating minutes.

First Dobbie beat Camp with a deflected shot to make it 2-2. As already mentioned the timing of this was probably the most crucual part, but worse was to follow. A hopelessly out-of-depth Perch simply had no answer to Dobbie and four minutes later paid dearly when he became dispossessed leaving Dobbie an easy job of threading the ball to put his second past Camp. The sight of Wilson having a go at a hapless Perch rather said it all, and at the same time I was texting my girlfriend with the words 'That's it, we're sunk,' which indeed we were. Flags and banners waved high among the Blackpool fans whilst the rest of us held our heads in our hands with that by-now familiar feeling of inevitability. All around us the sound of seats tipping up as those who'd seen enough made their way to the exits, some of whom were spared witnessing the final coup de grace on 80 minutes when Campbell capitalised on yet another defence demolition job by Dobbie whose shot could only be parried by Camp, allowing Campbell to earn his first ever hat-trick.

The demolition was so complete, the arrival of Anderson and Adebola (for a spent McKenna and Blackstock) two minutes earlier almost went unnoticed in a change of almost Harty-esque tardiness. Shortly afterwards a hapless Perch made way for Didsy, but anyone worth their salt would have realised the contest was over. There was nothing left in the tank, apart from when Adebola managed to roll the ball into an unguarded net from six yards a minute into stoppage time, which was about as meaningful as the three wins at the end of our last Premiership season eleven long years ago, and the near silence which greeted it told you all you needed to go.

Two minutes later Mr Clattenburg put us out of our misery as various Blackpool staff made their way past crumpled red shirts towards their players who began saluting their delighted fans. For the Forest support - those of us who were still there - there was time to salute our own defeated and broken players as they made their way towards the tunnel for the final time this season, and then acknowledge the victorious Tangerines in polite applause before we turned our backs on the hallowed City Ground turf for the final time this season, and I contemplated a long journey back to Lancashire alongside carloads of triumphant Blackpool fans (and yes, it hurt like hell).

Why, after a season where we've proved practically invincible at home, especially with no goals conceded in eight games, do we save our moment to leak goals like floodwater from the Derwent for the one game we needed to simply hold fast? Cup-tie mentality, and it almost defies the imagination, save to say this is now the third time we've been here with an all-too-familiar outcome. Yes, there will once again be plenty of questions to be asked as to how we could implode so spectacularly when we had all the ingredients of home advantage, but the cold hard fact remains that Blackpool simply wanted it more than we did.

So what next? Some time will be needed for the dust to settle, but the rumblings about who will stay and who will go will continue. Thoughts of what happened seven years ago fill me with fear for what may happen this time, especially with doubts surrounding BD, and his post-match interview in which he was more than a little cagey about his own future ought to set more than a few alarm bells ringing, those same ones which we could hear in the background late in January as yet again no new arrivals were forthcoming, especially the much-needed left back which in Nicky Shorey was about to disappear beyond our grasp. Radio Nottingham hit the nail on the head with talk of how the fans will expect great achievements next season (so no pressure there, then!) so please, oh please, do not let us go through another playoff hangover season like the catastrophic one we had seven years ago. That is my single biggest fear, especially if key players leave (Cohen and Earnie would appear to to be most vulnerable here), and worthy replacements are not forthcoming. Already the rumour mill is throwing up names like Darren Pratley (one would hope he enjoys far better luck on Trentside than he had with Swansea this season) and if ManU really are going to loan us Corry Evans next season let us hope he is a far better prospect than that useless donkey Michael Stewart whom we were unfortunate to be landed with during aforementioned playoff hangover season.

Before I go off and cry into my beer some more though, time to acknowledge what we have achieved this season. From twelve months ago seeming like relegation candidates almost to the final week, the turnaround has been little short of amazing. From the spluttering start during which we all must have thought we were in for more of the same, the way everything all fell into place surprised the hell out of me, yet during the November to January period we proved this was no flash in the pan by surpassing even the Hart heyday and looked utterly invincible. Being a Forest fan this season has been seriously good fun, and I sincerely hope this will continue into next season and beyond. With my friends' uncertainty over being able to renew their season tickets this summer, I too must make a decision as to whether I will be doing the same. For now at least I sincerely hope to be back next season to see us mount a successful campaign back to the promised land.

Let's hope that is what the club wants. What it really, really wants.

Ref Watch: Mark Clattenburg - Why do we always end up with this numpty for the playoff's? You just knew we'd get nothing from him, and the disallowed goal (not to mention the almost cert which was flagged offside before HT) was true to form, though whether this might have altered the eventual outcome is anyone's guess. Did not endear himself to the Forest fans through failure to punish some crude Blackpool tackles - this from the man who sent Dawson off for much less seven years ago.

Entertainment Value: No doubt this was a thrilling game for the neutral, and we did at least have a contest for three quarters of the game. 7.5/10

Atmosphere: The contrast between the cauldron atmosphere at 7.45 and the deathly silence two hours later could not be more marked. 28,000 fans screaming and shouting as the game kicked off, just 2,000 jubilant fans dressed in orange waving flags like there's no tomorrow at full time.

Highlights: Great start, rewarded by that vital early goal; pulling the tie back level after Campbell's 56th minute strike showed at least we had some fight; we even kept that horrid Seamus Coleman quiet for a change.

Lowlights: Where do you start? The disallowed goals? The hideous eight-minute capitulation at that critical point of the game? The long drive home afterwards?

Stinker: Poor Perchy had another nightmare, Tyson simply disappeared, and unusually Cohen had a quiet night.

Stormer: Robbie Earnshaw, who never stopped plugging away, delivering that early goal we needed to give us hope, and again to level the tie early in the second half. Mention also to Dexter Blackstock who quietly did all the leg-work to create our best chances.

Premiership Chump Of The Week: Didier Drogba, whose petulant childish sulk after surrendering penalty duties to Frank Lampard long before the game against Wigan looked anything but won was selfish prima donna tendencies of the first order, and all for the sake of his personal precious Golden Boot achievement ahead of that of his club. For that he also earns Lancashire Red's dubious title of Premiership Prat of The Season.