And not just because it really was a must win game.
Last Saturday, after watching the Nob End debacle, my dad - Steve Potter - collapsed on our driveway with a cardiac arrest. My mum was a Trojan and did CPR till the ambo arrived and he was rushed to the Vic. This last week we've been at his bedside hoping for recovery but on Thursday, the doctors told us that sadly this was unlikely to happen in a way that would give dad any quality of life. We're now waiting for nature to take its course.
Dad was Blackpool to the core. He was a PE teacher at Millfield and ran the Blackpool schoolboys teams for many years. Bringing through the the likes of John Hills, Jamie Milligan, Phil Thomson, Ciaran Donnelly etc.
He's been a regular at Bloomfield Road for decades, first with his dad and then with me. He also worked at the club for years once he left teaching and was the educational welfare officer for the school of excellence. This was undoubtedly the best time of his life. Even working for Karl couldn't stop the fact that his hobby was his job.
As he lay in the Vic yesterday, slowly dying, I was desperately hoping the football gods would let me tell him one final positive score. There's still the chance that he hangs on till Monday and we somehow get a win at Luton, but somehow I can't see it.
All the best my tangerine brethren. We rise and fall as one.