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Amongst the jubilation of the playoff final victory for Huddersfield on Monday, I was acutely aware of the speed the Reading fans spilled out of the stadium. Not all of them, and a good few stayed and applauded, or stayed to take in the end of their season. It must have been heart-breaking and I hope they can bounce back and better next year. They were a good bunch to a man, and didn’t deserve for their team to lose.

Heads in hands they sink,
Alone.
Heads in hands they think,
All the moments gone,
All the chances gone.
So many decisions,
So many choices,
Each seemed correct, each was wrong,
They sink.
They will recover, they think,
They tell this to microphones that arrive too soon,
They will go again,
They are immensely proud,
Heads in hands they sink,
Broken.

Heads in hands they sink,
Together.
Heads in hands they console,
Hugging as the tears come,
Anger, yes, but misery,
They are thanked,
For being there, for believing,
They are immense,
they are told.

They clap them off the field of play,
Those men whose wages they part pay,
Although they came up short today,
And some of them will move away,
While those in tears have to stay,
And come back on some August day,
Or maybe Non League Team away,
A summer weekend getaway,
But soon the skies above go grey,
The hope perhaps becomes dismay,
Or not and they’ll be ‘on their way’,
So that this time the coming May,
They’ll come back here and see them play,
And win.

Heads in hands, they’ll sink,
Elated.

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