In happier times, there was a moment just before everything Nottingham ForestThe home match was when those most closely associated with the club were reminded of something they could experience.
Brian Clough was the manager. He would walk out of the tunnel and take a sharp left, then stop in front the dugout. He would then turn towards the Trent End, where his name was being sang, and for a few seconds he would stand there with his hands in his pockets, his arms raised above his head. It was the pose they used for his statue, gazing out from Speakers’ Corner in Nottingham.
Frank Clark followed with his soft Geordie lisp, avuncular touches, and a story that was a tale of managerial success that often gets overlooked in post-Clough analysis. Clark promoted Forest, then finished third in the competition. Premier LeagueThey were also the last English team to leave Europe in the following season. Different days, indeed. Memories from another century.
It was not the same after that. Forest fell into a state of drift that lasted much longer than they might like to remember. It was difficult to keep track of how many managers passed through. Many were forgotten for the wrong reasons. Many have been forgotten. “Champions of Europe,” sang the away fans, “you weren’t even born.” And, deep down, those of us with Forest as our team knew why our supporters were still singing about two European Cups from 40-odd years earlier: because the present, unlike the past, had little to celebrate.
All this probably helps to explain why it’s so alarming to find out that another Forest manager is getting dangerously close to the guillotine.
