An Inch

You would think I would learn my lesson. Sometime after QPR's third goal on Friday night, for the third time in a matter of weeks a vision of a gentle coast to the line floated into my mind, perhaps winning promotion before the last match even. Of course it wasn't to be, our season seems to be destined to inch painfully slowly towards May 4th as we just do enough to keep our noses in front of Leeds. 

Since the derby, there's been a mental count down. Six wins from the Premier League, Leeds lose at Coventry makes it five. Leeds draw with Sunderland, we draw with Watford and it's four. Leeds lose at Blackburn, that's three, Leeds lose at QPR that's two. All the while we've accumulated zero of those wins, but amassed 3 points, all in draws, all in frenetic, emotional fashion. 

Had we won any of the last four games this would now be, effectively, done and dusted, but the inches have denied us. Had Nathan Broadhead’s deflected drive gone an inch to the left against Watford, it was goal, an inch to the right and it rebounds for Kieffer Moore to tap in. Watford were resolute but would've been in little condition to come back from a goal down. Against Middlesbrough we had one of our juggernaut spells where we squeeze the life out of the opposition for 15 minutes, culminating in Luongo's equaliser and then Jeremy Sarmiento placing a shot exactly one inch too far right. It goes in, we probably sweep Middlesbrough away from there.

Of course, there's a butterfly effect if we win either of those, both in those games and beyond. It changes the situation for Leeds and Leicester, maybe shapes their match preparations and execution in chaotic ways. You never know what the inches going in our favour might have changed. 

So much went on against Hull that I'm left with a pile of "what-if" marginal moments as big as the other two put together. It is almost too great to bear, they've been floating back to my mind ever since the final whistle. If Hladky declines the tight pass to Morsy in the 40th minute and we give the rowdy last-day-of-school Hull fans nothing, does the atmosphere gradually drain from the stadium? If we score any of the three presentable chances after Omari Hutchinson's second sublime goal of the night, does that settle the matter? If Davis doesn't rock his ankle, do we concede that free kick on the left? If Hladky pushes the initial header for their goal slightly wider or slightly narrower, do we clear it? If Ohio's shot is an inch higher does it crash flush onto the bar and harmlessly away? 

Then we get to the fourth minute of stoppage time, the passage that’s really haunting me. At left back Matty Jacob is living through a reign of absolute terror. Omari Hutchinson goes past him effortlessly for the umpteenth time. He shoots from a narrowish angle and Ryan Allsopp just about lays a glove on it, the ball loops enticingly towards Jeremy Sarmiento, hanging in the air. He lets the ball bounce. What if he'd just hurled his head at it, does he bundle it in? He tries to hook the ball past a pack of Tigers on the line. Would an inch higher or lower have found a gap?

When the resulting block dropped to Morsy it felt like destiny. The Captain crowns an incredible game with a stoppage time winner. It is written. It was not. Nothing is destiny, there is only chaos. 96 minutes of chaos that moved us just another inch closer to the Premier League.

Rationally, this is a decent result. It reduces the requirements of our final two games, which look objectively easier than our raucous visit to Humberside, where an excellent Hull side played lovely crisp football through our press, created good chances and had the energy and individual quality to really hurt us. Coventry might be as good as Hull but shouldn't have as much fuel left in the tank. There will doubtless still be some obstinacy left in a Huddersfield team that were a tough opponent at their place, but at home to the 2nd-worst team in the league is a fixture you want when everything is riding on it. We are likelier than not to hit the finish line second at this point, in a way that we haven’t been all season.

Yet, my brain can't help but work through narratives. Do we only inch closer to the line because we just can't push over it and never will? Are those missing inches going crack open into a chasm over the next 180 minutes of football? Is this the opportunity of a lifetime slipping from our grasp? Everyone tells me that the pressure is all on Leeds, but it never feels like it from the stands. If you'd offered me a draw at kick off, I would still have got on that bus, because Coventry and Huddersfield could still undo everything in 90 minutes. 

Maybe the narrative is that we inch, game by game, towards glory. That it always had to finish on the final day. A massive pre-match coach greeting party in the Sun, followed by a nervy match and a cathartic victorious pitch invasion, as we return to the topflight after nearly a quarter of a century. Yet, every single one of these inches feels fraught with danger, my heart rate uncontrollable for the rest of the week, every nerve frayed. One win, one more draw to go.

George Hirst v Hull City (How I’ve missed you)

Minutes 62

Goals 1

Shots 1

Accurate passes 11/19 (58%)

xG 0.10

xGOT 0.84

xA 0.01

Touches 30

Touches in opposition box 4

Successful dribbles 0/1 (0%)

Passes into final third 1

Offsides 1

Dispossessed 2

Recoveries 2

Ground duels won 1/4 (25%)

Aerial duels won 0/4 (9%)

Was fouled 1