"Did you have a good weekend ?", asked someone in my office innocently on Monday morning.
I looked at them blankly. How could I possibly explain to a non-football fan the pain I was going through? How could I tell them that I'd spent Sunday night unable to sleep and woken up on Monday numb with grief, without sounding slightly mentally unbalanced ?
This time last year, I remember flippantly recommending to a fellow FourFourTwo blogger that he listen to a bit of Acca Dacca to purge himself of "No Finals" pain. Sorry, Con - I tried my own advice and it didn't work. In fact nothing seems to be working to lift the dark cloud of sadness that descended upon my house the moment McBreen's first goal hit the back of the net.
It was over, it was finally over. You could immediately see the team crumbling, as if they just didn't have any fight left in them. I almost had to force myself to keep watching and by the end of the match I felt totally drained.
We don't deserve to be in the finals, of course, but it still hurts. It hurts badly. Not since the 2008 Grand Final have I felt this empty. How is it possible that we started the season with such bravado and confidence only to self-destruct in such a frustrating way ? What combination of psychological, tactical and other misfortunes have dragged us down from high-flyers to cellar-dwellers in a few short weeks ?
Like many other fans, I'm not sure I have the energy or perspective right now to rationally analyse where it all went wrong.
Being a football fan is seductive because it offers the constant promise of redemption. No matter how bad things were last week (or in the past 9 weeks), true fans cling to the eternal hope that in 90 short minutes the team they love will somehow find a way to turn their fortunes around.
And so I never gave up hope, I never stopped believing. All through the past few months I looked for the positives and I trusted in fate to help us back up the ladder. It's no secret that I've always supported Lawrie and I believed him when he said the team would fight till the end.
But on Sunday night after the match, the gaffer's message to the fans was strangely absent. In vain we waited for his Tweet, but nothing was forthcoming. Was he drowning his sorrows with Dave ? Comforting his players ? Belting out Simple Minds "Promised You A Miracle" in some Perth karaoke bar ?
Nearly 24 hours later, we finally heard from him : "McGlinchey's going to Motherwell on loan." No offence to Wee Mac but - who cares ? We've just bombed out of finals contention for God's sake ! Share the pain, share the disappointment. Let us know you care because we need to know we're not alone.
For the first time in memory, there is the unpleasant scent of uncertainty wafting around Bluetongue. Our coach is under pressure, we're losing some of our most consistent players and even our supporters group seems to have disintegrated. Something is bound to change next season and there's no guarantee it will be a change for the better. Whether this will involve coaching staff or players remains to be seen but one thing's for sure: with the introduction of yet another A-League team next season, the club surely need to reassess its "no frills" recruitment policy.
Don't get me wrong: Lawrie is adept at finding quality players like Travis, McGlinchey and Doig at bargain prices, but sometimes that's not enough to lift a team, nor to put bums on seats. And further competition for top Australian players will only increase as the A-League expands.
The one positive to come out of Sunday night for me (apart from seeing Perth into the finals - good on them) was the late appearance of youth team midfielder Mitchell Mallia. At just 17, Mitch has been a total delight to watch in the youth team this season : fast, strong, creative - his potential is unlimited.
The success of the Mariners Youth team has given us a great deal of pleasure and we can only hope to see more of the youngsters in the next two A-League rounds. Heaven knows, we badly need some motivation to keep watching. Normally I look forward to an F3 Derby but frankly, right now I don't really care if we get crushed 4-0 on Saturday.
This season the F3 has rapidly turned from Yellow Brick Road into the Highway to Hell.
