And now, the end is near. The season’s run-in is upon us, and with it comes the glorious inevitability of… well, something between eighth and tenth. Probably.
What once flickered with possibility now smoulders with fatigue. Injuries? Got ‘em. Form? Lost it. A tactical identity? Depends which half you watched. What’s left is a team that looks like it’s completed a charity Tough Mudder across six time zones and been rewarded with a pulled hamstring and a trip to Turf Moor.
There’s still football to play, of course. Still points on offer. But be honest — can you feel it? That creeping sense of déjà vu? The yearly tradition of scanning the final fixtures and doing the maths: “Well, if Fulham lose two, Bournemouth draw three and we win every single game despite being held together by physio tape and positive vibes, we might get eighth…”
Might. Always might. It’s the verb of the Albion Spring.
We’re now at that lovely stage of the season where the squad looks like the cast of Casualty: Carlos Baleba is filling in everywhere because he’s the only one who didn’t get the injury memo., Solly March’s muscle injury is allowing him to only make bi-weekly cameo appearances, and the academy kids are being summoned like fresh volunteers in a game of tactical conscription.
And still we’re here. Still trying to prise joy from this beautiful, broken team.
We’ll travel all the way to Molineux, field a back four made of string and memory foam, and watch the midfield disappear into the fog like a sad Victorian ghost. We’ll host West Ham and see if Lewis Dunk can put in one more half-fit, all-heart shift before collapsing into the advertising boards. We’ll applaud, we’ll cheer, we’ll sigh. We’ll check the table. Tenth. We’re still bloody tenth!
But let’s be clear: this isn’t about giving up. This is about realism. There’s still plenty riding on these last few games — not just European qualification, not just league position and not just finishing above Palace but how we feel about it all. Are we limping into the summer with a shrug, or throwing a defiant middle finger at mediocrity?
Because finishing well does matter. Not just for European qualification, but for what comes next. The tone. The mood. Whether Hürzeler’s experimental jazz football finds some harmony, or whether we end the season looking like a tribute act to De Zerbi’s B-sides.
And for the love of everything blue and white, please no more “we’ll go again” post-match interviews. Go where? For what? We need answers, not mantras. A sign that this club still wants more than to win the “best run club in the league” medal. Again.
The final fixtures won’t define our history. But they might shape the summer. Will Bloom back the manager further? Will the recruitment machine stop hoarding keepers, wingers and number 10s and finally buy someone who can pass and stay upright at right-back for longer than 60 minutes?
The run-in is rarely where dreams are made, but it’s where truths are told. Who steps up. Who checks out. Who’s part of the next chapter and who’s just passing through.
So go on, Albion. Surprise us. Play with grit. Play with purpose. Finish strong — or at the very least, finish interestingly.
Because if we are heading for tenth, can we at least look good doing it?
