Northampton Town 1 'The real Wimbledon' 0
Never before, on Valentine's Day, has a clean sheet brought about so much satisfaction for so many.
The tension that clung stiff and thickly to every burdened body was finally released - as our new, dominant lover punched the air with ferocious irony; there was nothing more romantic than finding eleven virgins left come the end of the night. In failing to find 'the back of our net', they succeeded in erecting some long-forgotten hope in our hymen hearts.
There was no question that the Wombles were limp up front, but by repelling even the smallest signs of seduction, psychological proof seemed to swell in all of us that our submissive nature is about to turn stubborn.
Proof came about because we were tough, cold and unspectacularly gritty. There was nothing sexy about us, let alone the game. The only swashbuckling swagger came from a Portuguese Scouser, only just old enough to reach for the top shelf. It needn't matter.
For once what we really needed was a start; forget the end product. The product was largely shocking, however the glimmers of strength and unity where previously there was only brittleness, suggested some hope written on the horizon. Although colourless clouds abound, thin slivers of light are breaking through the gloom and giving us a future glimpse at life without the darkness.
That one man can change so many is not a miracle, but a testament to why values of humanity are still essential on a football field. Much has been written about Carlisle the thinker, but Captain Clarke commands respect not because his brain cells can beguile a ball, but because his calm, sensitive, assured demeanour make him an instant leader of men.
Shouting can help and the boy can talk for all of us, however the biggest influence he instils is being a thoroughly decent bloke - communicating a kind of trustworthy dignity that many footballers seem to lack completely if recent weeks and months are to go by.
One man and one result cannot change our season, but it can spark the belief in all of us to look inside ourselves and find the fight that has so fizzled out whilst no-one has stood up and led from the bloody front.
So thank you, Clarke Carlisle, for telling us that we can. Because I look upto you, and I believe again.
The fight goes on.
