Sometimes I think that being a Brentford fan should have been outlawed by the Geneva convention. Or, at least, being a Brentford fan in the play-offs. Never have we got closer to the top flight than this season. Never has it felt further away than it does this morning after waking up off the back of a 2-1 extra time defeat at Wembley. A torture and pain the likes of which, right now, feels like it has actually gone as far as outdoing Huddersfield ’94-’95. Our magnificent team on the verge of greatness yet now everyone fearing they are on the verge of being broken up. The vultures will be gathering. Chelsea looking at Benrahama has been the rumour for the last few months. Raya to Arsenal. Watkins to who knows where. Will it happen?

Pliers. Rack. Hot poker. The play-offs
I love this club. Love this team. Would do anything for it. Always try to exude positivity. But my word, it’s hurting today. One can’t even begin to imagine what it is like for the players and the staff. For Matthew Benham. For Peter Gilham. Twitter is being given a wide berth for fear of biting at our opponents. Very brave of them, once they’ve won (although, personally I’d be focussing on celebrating the moment. Go figure). Thankfully, there’s no work to go to today as the well-meaning platitudes and sympathy won’t help. Anything but.
Nine bites at the play-off cherry. Nine defeats. I’ve been through them all and I think this is definitely the worst. Huddersfield and Stoke City narrowly just behind. The only glimmer of hope I can take this morning is that we kick on in a style akin to the Yeovil loss. You know, the season of ‘that’ penalty. The mid season break is short and whilst the window IS open, we’ll be back in league action in little more than a month. At least there isn’t a long summer to dwell on this.
Going out to Yeovil after coming so close in the regular campaign was sickening. The following months even longer. Yet the next season was just incredible. Celebrating like we’d won the FA Cup as we went up alongside Wolves. Look where they are now. The return of Marcello Trotta. The excitement of beating Preston to finally make it. Could we have the same reaction now? Could we kick on once more? Might the team stay together or are departures inevitable? Might Chelsea now get their man? Too soon to know. Too torturous to stress about. I’ve got a small boy who was dealt a double blow yesterday and there’s going to need to be a lot of shoddy parenting to try and put the smile back on his face today. Let alone mine.
The flip side is that we implode in a post-Stoke style. The team broken up before it was even back on the coach outside the Millennium stadium. The way the club is run these days gives hope that won’t happen. Or, at the very least, there are replacements stepping in and stepping up. Oh, for a crystal ball to see what will happen. To have some way of easing the empty feeling in the pit of the stomach. At least we will start the campaign on a sound financial footing, unlike some of our divisional rivals. Just look at Sheffield Wednesday and Wigan. Could others follow?
Regardless, this is just all too soon and all too raw. Match reports? You’ve seen it. Harrison Reed and Aleksander Mitrovic both lucky to avoid game changing red cards for blatant thuggery. Where was Keith Stroud when you needed him. Oh, the irony. A late goal giving a miniscule feeling of hope before the moment was gone once more. But we were second best on the night and, much as it hurts to admit that too, one can’t deny what played out. Outmuscled by a team that knew our tactics. Beaten by a freak free-kick. Sadly.
I’m all over the shop today. A broken man. I want to be magnanimous but it’s not possible. Well meaning tweets about playing well and going again aren’t helping any. I’ve no complaints about our team and the tremendous effort they have put in over a 13 month season. They are heroes to a man and have brought nothing but smiles, excitement and hope over a dark time. Yet right now, that all feels a million miles away. It will return, of course. I just hope it is sooner than later.
Trying to focus on the good times right now
Nick Bruzon