We all know that the SPL is a foregone conclusion.

Since the season of 2011-12 and the rightful demotion of Glasgow Rangers to the lowest tier of Scottish football, Celtic have maintained a stranglehold on the Scottish game. The only potential fireworks had been extinguished.

It has taken time for Rangers to recover, it would any in such a crippling scandal. To their credit, three promotions in four years saw their return to the big time, but they don’t look the finished product. The raw reality is that the Parkhead champions remain unchallenged.

Aberdeen looked like hopefuls last campaign before inevitably falling away as the pressure built. Hearts of Midlothian again sit proudly in the upper echelons of the SPL, without seeming a serious contender.

The thing is, due to the stark bridge in class, Celtic get away with murder. Their performance at the weekend against a mediocre Dundee side had not the grace of returning champions. But they won again by a single goal, grinding out another result against a team that so recently were in the doldrums.

The Championship this season however Is anyone’s game.

For the last two years it has been dominated by teams that were only there due to difficulties off the pitch. In 2014-15, Hearts ransacked the division. Clearly in the wrong tier for a team of such stature, hence their immediate return to third in the Premier Division the year after.

In 2015-16, Rangers found their stride. The were gallantly pushed by Hibernian initially, before storming back up to the grounds of their former glories.

This year, by just October it has opened up. A Neil Lennon led Hibs were the bookies’ favourites, expectant to return to the big time. A capital club slumming it in the lower leagues for any longer understandably seems outrageous.

Yet after eight games, it has become clear that the Edinburgh side continue to stutter. Dundee United’s entrance to the league appeared formidable on paper, but those who follow Scottish football will understand that they are a wounded outfit.

Blame the now York City manager Jackie McNamara? I would, but that may be a personal vendetta.

Strikingly at the weekend, four of the five fixtures in the Scottish Championship finished in draws (the exception being bottom-half Morton defeating top-half Raith Rovers).

As it stands, Queen of the South sit atop the table. An upset of biblical proportions one might say.

Hibernian cannot close out games. The new boys Dundee United are rooted mid-table with just three wins to their name. Falkirk are last year’s playoff casualties, who languish four points off the pace already.

What to expect next?

For me, the lack of clarity on what is to come overpowers their prosperous rivals of the SPL. It gives the league an unrelenting attraction.

The first York City match I attended as a lad was 19 years ago. Old Division Two against the mighty Blackpool, who have graced the Premier League since. We won 1-0.

I have had special moments supporting my local team, and wouldn’t change them for the world. Trips to Wembley certainly resonate fondly in the memory.

But when I think of low points as a doting City fan, I always return to 2010 and an away trip to Grays Athletic.

Ironically, on that icy night on the outskirts of London, we won 4-0. But I cannot shirk the memory I had that night on the train.

I remember asking myself: “How on earth has it come to this? I’m on my way to Grays.”

It was a bizarre sensation, and one that made me laugh. To be fair, I was getting used to it. Another sobering moment was our away trip to Ebbsfleet United. I asked for the nearest cash machine in a local shop, and was advised that platform 2 would take me to Gravesend.

As the weekend fixtures fast approach, I find myself overwhelmed by a similar disenchantment.

We may be just five games in, however there is a dreadful sense that York may be about to face their second relegation battle in two years. They sit 18th. Considering they lost the last and fell out the Football League, the concept sits uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach.

Bit like a Bootham Crescent pie.

I mean, how have we returned to this? That moment of elation when York returned to the league feels a far cry from where we find ourselves now.

I was in a Canterbury car park when the winning goal went in that day. I remember smashing the dashboard of my friend’s car. He had locked me in to listen nervously on the radio. Magical moments have occurred and I am grateful for them.

In the modern era, Jackie McNamara (or Sackie as we like to call him in my family optimistically) has not helped.

Anyone who has ever played Football Manager (or Championship Manager to those of us greying more rapidly), know that he found himself with the absolute dream scenario this summer. A new league, and a clean slate on which to build an empire.

He didn’t.

It swiftly became apparent that he did not have the dressing room. The captain left, scoffing at Jackie’s offer of a new contract. The Player of the Season followed suit, dropping another league to get away. As for the press release when Michael Coulson pre-signed for St. Johnstone? It was cutting, which in my book is unprofessional. He was a club legend and left under a cloud.

The 6-1 away loss to Gateshead was one of the saddest things I have seen, arguably, in my 19 years supporting York. Granted, it was always going to strike a chord with me. Based in Sunderland this year, my home being humbled in the North East was always going to hurt.

So where next for York? Last week we saw a 96th minute goal after the captain had been sent off at Forest Green. It’s a real City trademark that, unerring ineptitude in defending during injury time.

That afternoon in 1997 feels a lifetime ago. Watching on wide-eyed at the likes of legendary Rodney Rowe cruising past defenders without a second thought in the third tier of English football.

But the current footballing climate is unforgiving and we are struggling. We have financial difficulties, stadium complications and a squad straight out the scrap yard. The catastrophic hat-trick.

If this doesn’t change soon, I worry for our future.

I have a new sporting love.

There have been many. Frank Lampard, Gianfranco Zola, and of course Frank Leboeuf. But this week a new hero stepped into my life, destroying all in his wake.

Michael Phelps is one of the most fascinating characters in sport, but also indisputably the best. As the American 4×100 medley relay team touched home tonight, he picked up gold number 23 of his career.

It is important to take a moment to comprehend that. 23 golds. That is more than entire nations have accumulated in their history.

But it is his character that caught my attention.

His time away from the pool has been well documented in the American media, and less than flattering. Rehab and a DUI charge would be an emotional hit for anyone to take. Humbling, embarrassing and obviously wrong. But the human psyche is a complicated beast when wounded.

The controversy had clearly riled some rivals. The preparation area before his showdown with Chad Le Clos was the most riveting rivalry I have seen in years. Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg was handbags, Vladimir Klitscho and Tyson Fury frolicking. Roy Keane and Patrick Vieira?  Okay, that was exciting. But this was subtle, which made it so enticing.

The way they eyed each other up pre-race, only headphones separating them, was like a pair of lions circling the Serengeti looking for a fight.

But Phelps fought back again and was soon draped in gold. As he stood on the podium this week he seemed overwhelmed. He was not the only one, so was I.

His fiancee was as emotional, holding his baby Boomer as the star-spangled banner rang out time and time again. It was moving.

His history won’t be to everyone’s taste and that I respect. But sport is about fight. Resilience and defiance.

Michael Phelps retired and was struck down by depression. Like so many sportsmen and women who struggle to deal with the loss of the buzz that competition brings you.

But to come back with the world watching, and reclaim your crown (well, several in his case) is something that should be lauded. It is beyond belief.

This is why Michael joins the very exclusive group of sportsmen I swoon over (and not even called Frank!). He will forever be an inspiration.

TURN THAT TOWN UPSIDE DOWN

Wembley had a decidedly unbalanced feel to it as the FA Vase final got underway. Away to the right were near 20,000 Hereford United fans, bedecking the stands in black and white. To the other side, a spattering of Morpeth orange looking a little apprehensive about the task ahead.

Their fears were well-founded as Hereford burst into life from the kickoff.

A good through ball from Sirdic Grant found Rob Purdie in an embarrassment of space.
The Hereford stalwart, with over 100 appearances in the Football League with the Bulls, tore a shot into the left hand corner. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in the cup final the day before.

Hereford continued to push. Pablo Haysham saw an unchallenged header from six yards turned around the post. Joe Tumelty had a volley cleverly saved shortly after. Haysham should have scored but swung at thin air from a matter of metres out.

But Morpeth weren’t here to be trounced. A simple corner was flapped at by Martin Horsell in the Hereford goal, and there was Chris Swailes to chest the ball home at the back post. It wasn’t the prettiest, but the scores were level.

Morpeth came again.

Great play Luke Carr down the left saw the striker lay it on a plate for his partner Michael Chilton. But the number ten used the outside of his boot to agonisingly poke the ball wide.

The second half exploded into life just like the first, but this time Town took the upper hand. Luke Carr hooked the ball across goal and found the corner of the net after just 43 seconds.

It was compact and clever buildup play. Town were maturing as the game grew older.

Just before the hour mark it was three. Chilton with a lovely through ball to Sean Taylor who slotted home expertly from close range.

Even the fans had undergone a power shift, the handful of Northumbrians singing buoyantly about the silence of their counterparts.

Substitutes from both sides were brought on to try and shift the momentum. Hereford’s John Mills seemed to flinch as the ball came to him in the box, moments after coming on. Steven Anderson for Morpeth was introduced but fired a good chance straight at the keeper.

With time running out, another substitute Mustapha Bundu looked to salvage something for the Bulls, but saw his header cleared off the line. Damen Mullen the Morpeth saviour, having spent all season at Blyth.

Just into injury time, Morpeth wrapped it up. Steven Anderson strolled towards the box before rolling the ball to Sean Bell. The fellow substitute found the net with an aid of a hefty deflection and the game was won.
Morpeth had no right to come to London and win today, let alone by the 4-1 scoreline. In a season of struggle for so many in the North East, Town joined Darlington in celebrating a season lined with silverware.

League Winners Hereford, will return to the South stunned.

There was a dark, threatening cloud over Victoria Park this afternoon, befitting of the relegation looming over York City heads.

City went into the game knowing that, by the end of play, they could be up to 11 points adrift with just 12 left to play for. After 11 games without a win, nothing but three points would do for the Minstermen.

With just ninety seconds on the clock, City keeper Scott Flinders was forced to back-pedal furiously. A Hartlepool header scooped towards the back post had looked destined to drop in, only to nestle harmlessly atop the net.

Five minutes later and it looked like Lady Luck may just hail from Yorkshire. A simple back pass to Pools keeper Trevor Carson saw him slip to his knees on the sodden surface, only to recover in the nick of time.

It was a stark reminder to fans and players alike that this was a competition, and the fat lady had yet to sing.

Further chances fell to Pools. Luke James scooping over from close range with his right, before Nathan Thomas, given alarming space to run into, did the same with his left.

Pools tried ‘route one’ next, as Carson’s kick from the back went through to Thomas again, his shot from an angle strongly palmed away.

But it had been coming, and the resulting corner finally punished the Minstermen.

A simple cross saw winger Thomas stroll into the box and tap home from a matter of yards. It was the story of City’s season, lax marking at a set-piece, and that elusive second-away win was becoming a pipe dream yet again.

The hill to climb became a mountain on 34 minutes as Dave Winfield received his second yellow for the visitors. Booked earlier for a clothesline on James, a clumsy challenge on Thomas saw the City centre-back receive his marching orders.

As one of the forerunners for York City’s ‘player of the year’, you would forgive those in the boardroom for taking a leaf out of Aston Villa’s book and abandoning the concept altogether.

Vadaine Oliver was sacrificed, as Femi Ilesamni entered the fray. It was starting to feel like a cricket score was on the cards.

York-born Michael Duckworth was denied by the legs of Flinders as he looked to build on his assist for Pools’ first. Minutes later he forced a diving save from range as Flinders pushed another effort wide.

Then just as the additional minutes were announced across the tannoy, York City ripped up the script.

A corner from the right found Kyle Cameron running in, who deftly bowed to nod the ball home into the opposite corner.

Against all the odds, the teams were level, and City showing an uncharacteristic venom.

News filtered through that Stevenage were winning. With results as they stood, a draw would be of no use.

Back to back corners before the hour mark suggested hope for City, but Pools keeper Carson remained untested.

The home side came again, spreading the play with their man advantage. Michael Woods shot straight at Flinders, before a diving header from James crept agonisingly wide.

City right-back Luke Hendrie got in behind the back four, but his cross was palmed away. Hendrie cut in again, Lewis Allesandra’s shot this time blocked.

It was end to end stuff.

Next up was Woods again. Another close-range strike diverted wide by Flinders, who was having an impressive afternoon against his old club.

But for all the keeper’s heroics, Woods was to have the final word.

With pressure mounting, two former Chelsea youngsters combined, captain Carl Magnay sweeping a cross in, which was met by Woods, another York-born talent in blue.

This time the midfielder made no mistake, nodding in against the inside of the post, leaving Flinders rooted to the spot. An impressive finish to cap off what would turn out to be a ‘man of the match’ performance.

There was time for Flinders to deny James once more to win their personal battle with an acrobatic tip over the bar, but the scoreline was not to change.

The Minstermen fell to their 24th league defeat of the season, and as the 527 visiting fans made the short journey down the A19 tonight, there will have been no doubt in their minds as to which road York City are travelling down.

Disastrous, disorganised, haphazard, hopeless. These are just a handful of adjectives that sum up York City’s season.

With just five games remaining, the Minstermen find themselves languishing in the relegation zone, nine points away from safety.

For a club that has won just six times in 41 attempts, it seems improbable that they will string a further three together (at the very least), to save their Football League status. But what is football without hope?

The new footballing phenomenon, Leicester City, have breathed life into the game, and led all clubs outside the elite to dream that anything is possible.

Granted, City’s circumstances are contrasting to say the least, but survival this year would be similarly movie-worthy.

York travel to Hartlepool this weekend knowing that they need a result. In truth, they have needed a result every weekend for the last two months, the last win being against Exeter City on February 16.

But there seems an almost romantic need to amend the record this Saturday as Hartlepool reappear on the fixture list.

Back in August, York welcomed the Monkey Hangers for their first home fixture of the campaign. From what had been discussed during pre-season, they were expected to be a team in the lower echelons of the league come May.

To their immense credit, Pools started well. After the great escape of the season before, they won their opening three fixtures, something that would take York until mid-December.

A miserable run under Ronnie Moore saw them drop to 22^nd by February, but having steadied the ship under new boss Craig Hignett, they sit comfortably in 16^th, knowing their only participation in this year’s relegation circus will be their performance against York.

Pools ran out 2-1 winners at Bootham Crescent that day back in August, and for many, it was a sign of things to come. It was City’s first test against a similar team on paper, and they blew it.

I was there that day and it cemented a pattern we have seen repeated almost fortnightly since. York went a goal up around the hour mark, before capitulating and crashing to late goals and defeat.

Late goals and lax defending cost City two invaluable points just last week against Orient, and the week before when hosting Crawley. They simply do not seem to learn.

This weekend is a final throw of the dice. The discontent on the terraces was evident at the weekend, and I would regrettably agree with the majority that any change in fortune may be too little too late.

But the fixture with Hartlepool is about so much more. It is a chance to prove that something has changed since that defeat in August, that we should not expect similar disappointment when starting out next season, wherever that may be.

After that defeat eight months ago, the attendance at Bootham Crescent fell by almost 2,000 for the next home game against Yeovil. Considering the original attendance was just 4,890 that is an alarming statistic.

Whether those who failed to return were fair-weather fans or simply savvy enough to realise this team was not worth the £18 ticket price is your decision to make. But losing to Hartlepool United set the tone.

This weekend, York have the opportunity to set a different tone. A chance to show some of that fight come the end of the season that was inherently lacking at the start.

Whether it be a defiant farewell to a league we have not felt comfortable in, or another inexplicable story from a season which has had everything, we shall see.

But Hartlepool is local enough to matter, and the fans deserve proof that York have a future. Not only those travelling, but the circa 2,800 that have devotedly sat through the gritty and grim at home week after week.

I am not begging York City to survive. You don’t need to be an economist or a football coach to see the Football League is above their current squad level.

All I ask is improvement. A different sensation from that I felt in August, so I can enter that post-match press room with a sense of acceptance and pride, as opposed to that all too familiar, awkward grimace.

As 90s trance hits reverberated along the East stand of Victoria Park before kick off, there was an unusual joviality amongst the Hartlepool faithful. The grumbles had gone, and there was an enthusiastic hubbub around the place like that of a christmas office party.

Pools were unbeaten in six going into today’s fixture, a run which had seen the team leave the threat of relegation behind. Sitting an impressive 17th with two games still in hand, the club was looking at those above them rather than the desperate few trapped below.

Twenty minutes passed at the Vic and the game sparked into action. The lively Luke James hurtled into the box one-on-one before being clipped by the chasing Krystian Pearce, who saw red for his cynicism.

Captain Billy Paynter stepped up to find the bottom corner, the keeper unlucky not to get a stronger hand on it, and Hartlepool led.

All of a sudden tempers had frayed. Celebrations turned to protestations as the two teams clashed in an ugly melee. A player a piece was booked, but the atmosphere had changed.

Hartlepool tore forward with their man advantage, the booked Nathan Thomas nearly falling into the away stand. The Mansfield fans were baying for blood and a hoard of police intercepted them. What had been a non-event was fast developing a Romanesque atmosphere.

Paynter struck the post, before Mansfield keeper and defender collided with each other. Another bitter argument ensued, this time between players of the same kit colour.

Things off the pitch were no better. Police rushed towards the toilets as the Mansfield mob set eyes on the home fans, the two separated by a thin, single barrier. Trouble failed to escalate, but not for want of trying.

Play resumed with the score 1-0, a section of the away support sensibly not returning.

Mentally at least, the players hadn’t either. Both teams swapped possession far too easily, Mansfield dragging a poor shot wide, before Nicky Featherstone had an effort deflected past the post at the other end.

The man advantage was far from telling, and Mansfield were the next to come close. Defender Ryan Tafazolli creeping in across the 6-yard box to force a clever save from Trevor Carson down to his right.

Moments later it was deja vu, this time Carson expertly diving to his left to deny Tafazolli with a wonderful reaction save.

Tempers began to fray again, the home fans this time voicing disgust at their own side’s pedestrian display. Town were in the ascendency despite having a hole at the back.

On 75 minutes, Pools were punished. Substitute Colin Daniel rifled into the top-right corner after the ball had fallen fortuitously to him, and the ten men of Mansfield were even.

Town weren’t to finish the game with their full quota of fan’s either, as another reveller was frog-marched away from the ground. They had brought a rowdy rather than respectable 300, but were set to leave with fewer.

With seven minutes left on the clock, the referee pointed to the spot again.

A jinxing run from Carl Magnay saw the defender fouled right on the edge of the area, the referee declaring it was just inside the box. Paynter confidently stepped up, firing the ball right down the middle past the diving keeper. Hartlepool were back in front.

Another smart save was needed from Carson five minutes later, another header from substitute Chris Beardsley forcing the Irishman down to his left.

As the final whistle went, the man of the match was announced as Paynter. Carson had been arguably overlooked, but the tall captain had carried his side during an awkward afternoon.

Hartlepool remain in 17th, as do Mansfield in 13th. But the fixture won’t be remembered fondly by many.

There aren’t many clubs in England that envy Newcastle United.

Mike Ashley’s reign on Tyneside has been coated in catastrophe. A Northern powerhouse crumbling from the very core, landing the club on the brink of their second relegation in ten years. Weaker managers used as puppets for the suits in the suites and players drafted in with as much verve and drive as a parliament backbencher.

Having a troublesome owner is an issue Leeds United fans need no briefing on. The similarities between the two clubs are numerous, with the locals in a constant battle to seize ownership of the club, driven by a hunger to reinstall the virtues and personality their club was founded upon.

The respective fan bases these past few years wouldn’t be out of place in a Monty Python Four Yorkshiremen sketch. Battling competitively about which has had it worse under the reigns of the all-encompassing owner.

“You were lucky to have John Carver! We had to make do with Hockaday”.

But with the appointment of Rafa Benitez, Newcastle may just have a brighter light at the end of their tunnel.

They have finally set out to do what Leeds United haven’t. Instil some stability.

No more puppets happy to be told what to do, No McClaren’s or Pardew’s grinning from ear to ear happy just to be at a club above their grandeur, those have been and gone. This time the Geordies have bagged themselves a tactician.

In Benitez, Newcastle have more than just a footballing brain, they have a leader. Guidance from a level-headed journeyman of the game who can lead by example and nurture talent. The exact thing missing so desperately from Leeds United.

Steve Evans has served a purpose at Elland Road this season. He has steadied a ship which was veering towards a relegation battle, and despite an inexplicable variety of results, it will do for this season. The playoffs were never achievable, the squad simply is not good enough. Mid-table for a team technically treading water? He has filled his quota.

With Massimo Cellino at the helm, Leeds will never be a stable club. His unfathomable unconventionality and superstitious quirkiness is reflected in his business patterns and that is incredibly hard to watch when his actions pull at your heart strings.

But if the Italian can somehow have his hand forced in the summer, this club can be revived.

On the pitch going into next season, Leeds need two vital components that are lacking at Elland Road: Stability and leadership.

In others words, a recognisable manager with longevity and an inspirational captain who can nurture. Two leaders who can set a healthy mould at the club, void of erraticism, which will allow the players and the club to naturally develop and build with pride and confidence.

Steve Evans is not big enough for a project the size of Leeds United. He is a gritty coach and worked wonders for Rotherham who were a smaller club making a push for greater things, but the scenario at Leeds is a different one.

Leeds demand a man with more presence. Both fans and players need inspiration, a fresh bit of motivation. If it isn’t put in place at the top, then we are going to lose the impressionable further down.

Sam Byram went to West Ham where Slaven Bilic is running an exciting prospect based on club laurels and excellent foreign talent. There are also the likes of Mark Noble in their squad who lead by example and fight for every ball. What on earth is there at Leeds for Alex Mowatt and Lewis Cook to rival that sort of setup? Keep it as it is and they will be next out the door.

On the pitch, Leeds United have collapsed twice in the last month. Away at Brighton and at home against Huddersfield. On both occasions, Sol Bamba has been found vastly wanting. He is a useful player, but does not have the drive a Leeds United dressing room needs. That Yorkshire pride that refuses to be dented heard bellowing out from the terraces.

For Leeds to clamber out of mid-table obscurity, they will need to invest in at least two big names to rally the troops, a sturdy foundation upon which to build an empire.

Whether Rafa at Newcastle turns out to be just that, only time will tell. A lot will depend on just how much control he is given over their academy and recruitment by the board.

This could be the very problem with my new blueprint for Leeds United, Cellino may never let his manager be Leeds’ true designated driver. It explains why so many strive to seize ownership back from the Italian.

But with the structure as it is, Leeds fans are, (stereotypically), destined to act out that Four Yorkshiremen sketch.

There have been few comforts for York City fans this season, this afternoon being no different. But with Hartlepool hosting Dagenham & Redbridge, there was at least the guarantee that not all those around them would be winning.

Unlike last week.

Dagenham, Hartlepool and York sat adrift together at the foot of League Two before kick-off, with two of the three seemingly destined to fall out of the Football League.

The consequences can be disastrous. Funding is lost, fans start to drift, even FIFA games give you the boot.

But with 11 games left, relegation has become a stark reality for the three.

Hartlepool, the highest of the three on 31 points, have the luxury of having played three games less than their counterparts and had an excellent chance today to pull away out of sight.

York trailed behind on 26 and Dagenham further still, a point shy of the Minstermen. With Stevenage the closest to the terrible trio on 35 points it had fast become an unenviable mini-league, the clubs suffering 60 defeats between them already this season.

With just three minutes on the clock, Dagenham were the first to shoot themselves in the foot.

A ridiculous barge in the box left the referee no choice but to point to the spot and first blood was there for Pools on a plate. Veteran captain Billy Paynter gave the keeper the eyes and slotted home confidently into the bottom right.

Dagenham eyes were ashamedly on their feet, whilst those in York looked frustratedly to the skies. Thanks to ill-discipline from the Redbridge defence, it was advantage Pools.

Ten minutes passed before the visitors threw another gift the way of their hosts. A soft free kick was drifted in from the right and took the slightest of touches off left-back Jake Carroll, hardly changing trajectory on its way into the net.

For a team that had started the day bottom of League Two, the lack of fight from Dagenham was astounding.

Hearsay reported that relegation was starting to become a positive for the Daggers. A chance to rebuild and start again. Understand what it is like to play against similar opposition and build a fresh legacy from there.

But there was a catch. Their lethargy against a mediocre Pools side was dragging down another club with them. A proud northern city rather than a forgotten borough in the East End of London.

Capitulation against a top team was Dagenham’s own prerogative, their own nosedive into non-league obscurity. But the spineless attempts on display today were not making any friends 60 miles down the road in Yorkshire.

News filtered through from York. Unlike their southern counterparts, they were not willing to give up the ghost. Debutant Lewis Alessandra had fired the Minstermen into a 22nd minute lead after a rare assist from Jake Hyde.

As it stood, the Daggers were digging their own footballing grave. But City were determined to stay alive.

The plot thickened further after the half hour mark as, against the run of play, Dagenham  got themselves a lifeline.

An innocuous strike from striker Matthew Cash stung the palms of Pools keeper Trevor Carson, ricocheting into the top of the net. The clumsy keeping from the Irishman was an unwarranted reward for the basement club, and a stiff reminder that the Monkey Hangers themselves were neither home nor dry.

Five minutes later and a Josh Passley shot was cleared off the line with Carson beaten again. Dagenham had woken up.

Almost instantaneously, there was another goal at York. Barnet striker John Akinde finding the top corner from inside the six-yard box to pull the Minstermen back. All three teams had scored, but as usual they had leaked at the back.

From a City perspective, it quickly went from bad to worse after the break.

No sooner had the fans brushed their half-time pie pastry off of their chests, news filtered through that Hartlepool had their third.

Palace loanee Jake Gray beat his defender and bore down on goal, finishing expertly across goal after 53 minutes, almost identically to how he had for the Sky cameras against Orient.

The Daggers had come out fighting at least, but lacked the finishing touch. A one-on-one fell to Diodge, then a blank range header to Hawkins. But time after time there was no end product.

What City were up to was becoming irrelevant. Luke Summerfield struck the bar as York continued to press, but the all-important look of the league table was unwavering.

As the attendance was announced over Victoria Park, a heartwarming ripple of applause rang around the ground, with almost a sense of gratitude towards the visiting fans for cementing one of those relegation spots. Mutual respect had set in as the sets of supporters said goodbye to each other, not sure when they would meet again.

With a seven point gap between themselves and York (not to mention the potential nine from the games in hand), Hartlepool could finally relax.

Dagenham & Redbridge looked a defeated outfit both on the pitch and in the stands come the final whistle. Voted the worst place to live in Britain at the start of the season, you couldn’t help but empathise as they trudged their way back towards the coach.

For York meanwhile, another team had got away. Their 1-1 scoreline was respectable, but not what the doctor had ordered. Stevenage remained mathematically conquerable, and with that a hopeless thread of faith will remain in an optimistic few.

Nevertheless, another week has passed and the gap between City and safety has grown even larger.

York travel to the Vic in April to pit their wits against Pools themselves, but it in all truth it looks set to be a similarly awkward send-off.