During the fallow second half of our first season in the Conference, Phil Gilchrist, in a post-match interview, promised that we were due to give someone a ‘proper beating’ at some point. Apparently the results, which had been poor, weren’t a reflection of the performances. In reality, we’d over-invested in classy veterans like Rufus Brevett, Gavin Johnson and Gilchrist himself, all of whom were pretty much spent by Christmas; a ‘proper beating’ was never going to come from the players that were left behind.

I thought last week that someone might offer the ‘imminent proper beating’ gambit after the defeat against Wycombe; it’s tantalising and motivating to have a goal which exists just beyond the horizon. You just need patience, it will come; just you wait. What nobody will ever commit to is just how long you’ll have to wait.

A couple of people have toyed with the idea a few times; pointing to the number of shots we have (most of which are off-target) or our often stellar ‘expected goals’ score. Nobody has been bold enough to make the literal claim that the proper beating was on its way.

That’s because, based on recent performances, not even the most optimistic fan could have predicted something like the comprehensive win over Exeter on Saturday. Teams who are on the brink of giving someone a proper beating should, at the very least, be able to score goals in the first half of games. 

Up to yesterday we’d only managed Marcus Browne’s goal at Charlton before the break, so the novelty of being three up by half-time felt very alien, very last season. It was desperately needed and if we win one of the games we have in hand over most other teams, we’ll move comfortably into mid-table. That’d feel a bit better, wouldn’t it?

I recently finished ‘Exit Stage Left’ by Nick Deurden, a book about what happens to musicians after their star fades. Each story, from big players like The Police’s Stewart Copeland to no-hit-wonders like Towers of London, followed a familiar pattern. 

Fame and adulation is fleeting when you’re a pop star; it comes at you quickly and usually leaves at a similar pace; it’s easy to be seduced in to thinking that fame is the ultimate goal. But, in every case, after a period of post-fame mourning and denial, each artist eventually returns to their original purpose; making music. To musicians, fame and money are largely irrelevant as long as they’re being creative. Often when they reach that space, the musicians are much happier.

There’s a parallel here with our situation; as a Karl Robinson team, a League One team even, the flush of excitement of the early days under a new manager or succeeding in a new division have passed. That was the time when the novelty of being top of the charts. Now, even scoring four away from home wasn’t quite the novelty it was a few years ago. That feeling, has given way to something else, and to some extent we seem to be mourning that.

What is that something else? A steady state that any club not in that position would kill for? It’s the most rational way for a club to sustain itself and grow. But it’s slow and less exciting. We’re the fans constantly looking for the next exciting thing, whereas Karl Robinson, the players and staff are the musicians, focussing on their craft. It’s very hard to reconcile those two positions when they start to separate.

We might crave the next ‘good beating’, but I’m not sure it will ever feel quite like it used to. This was a good example, not so much a riotous thrashing, but a very necessary win.