Blackburn all but secured Championship survival with Tuesday's 2-1 win at Millwall - yet FanZoner Roger White still doesn't feel comfortable.
Five points clear with two games remaining. That's it then. Surely Championship status has been secured.
There's no shame in making a mistake, we all know that, it's not learning from them that is the real tragedy and if this season has taught us one thing, it's to expect the unexpected.
These past 44 games have shredded the nerves of even the most steely Rovers fan and Tuesday night was no different.
I listened to the game in a car park in deepest, darkest Manchester, completely oblivious to the world around me. I was cocooned in a 90-minute time vacuum with Steve Claridge consuming my life for the best part of two hours as he narrated the goings on from South-East London as Rovers went on to secure just their fourth away win of the season. We've hit somewhat of a purple patch recently, under the tutelage of everyone's favourite "Interim Manager" (sorry Rafa), Gary Bowyer, which has seen us take nine points from 12, with just two points required from our two remaining encounters to mathematically ensure that we remain in the second tier of English football.
That all sounds too easy and I'm sure I'm not alone in thinking that there are a few more twists and turns to come before the season draws to a close in the Midlands on May 4.
Roll the clock back 24 hours, and I found myself equidistant between Sir Alex and the directors' box and Old Trafford with a friend of mine who had a spare ticket for the Villa game. He knew that I had been through the mill this season and to be honest, it did provide some respite from what has been one of the more trying campaigns as a Blackburn fan. As RVP stole the show and the red side of Manchester rejoiced, I sat there solemnly in my seat (I had no desire to "stand up for the Champions") and cast my mind back 18 years. I'm not looking to cite any one game in particular, more the scenario. We were locking horns with the best of the best and we triumphed. We won. Champions of England. What next? Sven to be manager? Zidane coming with him? The rest, as they say, is history.
After I sat there pondering what could have been and United were closing in on their 13th Premier League crown, I was shocked to see people leaving on 88 minutes. "They want to get themselves down to Ewood", I thought, where it's almost disturbing how much pain and sadness we put ourselves through, just so we can boo at the final whistle, lambast the incredulous managerial decisions and swear blindly that we will never step foot inside the ground again until things change. Things don't change, we are still adamant that we could do the job better and the booing just sounds pathetic and is pretty tricky to do at an audio level that would get past the stewards on the edge of the pitch. I'd have given anything to switch places with those United fans, wrapping things up nicely with a couple of games to spare. Anyhow, it was roll on Millwall with everything crossed.
As the final whistle went at the New Den, I got the rush of adrenaline that only football can give you. Only your team can give you. Whether your in the Champions League final or plying your trade in the doldrums of non-league football, it's your team and that's what counts. We now head into the Crystal Palace game with our fate in our own hands, knowing that three points will get the job done. I'd love it, if just this once, we could go about our business in a routine manner and wrap things up with minimal fuss.
How about a 3-0 win with a Jordan Rhodes hat-trick in the first half? Then all we have to do is nonchalantly spray the ball about until the game draws to a close and we can all leave on 88 minutes. Perfect.