A really exciting opportunity. A huge role since he came in. Support for Johnnie, Terry, and Bayzo with what we’ve managed to deliver on the pitch. Really, really grateful.

Lovely. Heartfelt. Entirely incomplete.

Because the…

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For Wesley, it is a time when the post bag becomes feral.

Letters arrive. Emails. DMs. Notes passed via friends of friends who “don’t want to be public but have thoughts”. They all insist on the same thing.

This is important. You need to cover this. Why is nobody talking about this.

In season, fans write about what happened. In summer, fans write about what hasn’t happened, what might happen, and what a bloke from Tooting has heard from his cousin’s neighbour who works “in football ”.

Below is a selection of correspondence received by WombleWorld during the close season.

Dear Wesley,

I’ve supported this club for 40 years and I’ve never known it like this. Nobody listens anymore. There is a divide. Everything is decided behind closed doors. Fans are being shut out.

Regards,

Still Standing By The Kiosk

Wesley replies:

Thank you for writing in. Everything has always been decided behind closed doors. The only difference is that now you are also allowed to watch it happen on a glitchy YouTube stream.

Dear Wesley,

I have heard from a reliable source that the new home kit is going to be mainly blue with a bit of yellow.

I have emailed the club. No reply. I have submitted an URGENT Ask the DTB on Discord. No reply.

Why is no one answering me. I thought we were a fans’ club.

Concerned Member

We have read this letter several times, slowly, in case we were missing something.

The home kit of AFC Wimbledon has been mainly blue with a bit of yellow for the entirety of the club’s existence. The same was true of every Wimbledon side preceding it for the past fifty years.

You are not describing a rumour. You are describing the colours.

To the wider question.

A fans’ club means fans own the club. It does not mean fans are entitled to a personal reply within four working hours from a volunteer board about a rumour that turns out to be a description of the existing kit.

Nobody is ignoring you. Nobody has noticed you. There is a difference, and we mean it affectionately.

If the new home kit launches and it is mainly blue with a bit of yellow, we will form a view at the appropriate time, which is at the point of the launch, alongside everybody else.

If it is mainly anything else, write back.

Dear WombleWorld,

I don’t always agree with you but I enjoy reading it. Is there a way to buy you a San Miguel or support you directly.

Cheers

Firstly, thank you. Secondly, we would not recommend buying anyone a San Miguel under any circumstances.

If you wish to support WombleWorld, WW+ exists. Minimal perks. Some exclusives. But the reality is just the quiet knowledge that you enabled this nonsense.

Think of it as buying us a drink we didn’t really want but will consume anyway.

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Dear WombleWorld,

I’m not anti anything, but I do think the board need to explain themselves properly. A simple graphic would help. Possibly a flowchart. Or a video.

Anonymous

Wesley replies:

If the board produced a flowchart, it would immediately be accused of patronising the membership. If they produced a video, it would be paused at 0.37 seconds and analysed for hidden meaning.

There is no format that can save us now.

Dear Sir,

I voted against the thing because the thing was bad. But now the other thing has happened and I don’t like that either.

Yours,

A Concerned Member

This is the most honest letter we have received all year.

Dear Wesley,

Quick question. Do you have your season ticket on the app or do you use a physical card. Just curious what you find easier on matchdays.

Cheers

Ticket Office Tom

A fair question. A normal question. The sort of question that should have a simple answer.

I have it on the app.

And to be clear, before anyone writes in, the app works perfectly. It scans every time. I have never once been delayed at the turnstile. I can send tickets to friends without issue. Functionally, it does exactly what it is supposed to do.

I have no practical use for a screenshot whatsoever…..But that is not the point.

The point is that I cannot screenshot it.

I own the ticket. I paid for the ticket. It lives on my phone. And yet my phone, at the instruction of an app, has decided there are things I am not allowed to do with my own screen.

I understand fraud prevention. I understand anti-touting. I even understand why screenshots are blocked. All of that makes sense.

What I do not understand is why AFC Wimbledon, via a ticketing app, has any say in how my phone behaves at all.

At what point did my device start taking orders.

Today it is screenshots. Tomorrow, what. Are they reading my emails. Checking my photos. Monitoring my screen time. Flagging my tone on the WombleWorld WhatsApp Community (WWWAC).

I have found myself outside Plough Lane tilting my phone, adjusting brightness, briefly attempting to photograph my own screen like a Victorian trying to capture a ghost. Not because I need the image. But because I should be allowed to.

Physical never did this. They existed. They scanned. They looked nice in my wallet.

So yes. I use the app. It works absolutely as intended. I have no actual complaint of substance.

And yet.

I object.

Dear Wesley,

Are you doing the Wombles Walk 2026. Everyone should be doing it. It is for a good cause. It builds community.

Hope to see you there.

We are doing it. A column will follow.

The challenge, and we acknowledge this is entirely a problem of our own making, is how to participate in a public sponsored walk involving several hundred fellow supporters in broad daylight while remaining anonymous.

Options under review include a large hat, a slightly different large hat, and walking the route on a different day and writing about it as if we had been there.

Dear Wesley,

About that, why are you anonymous. If you really stand by what you write you should put your name to it. Also people are saying you might be DTB or at least close to them. Can you clarify.

Just Asking

WombleWorld is anonymous because it is funnier that way and because it allows us to write without needing to preface every article with our LinkedIn profile.

We are not the DTB. We are not close to the DTB. We are not secretly influencing anything other than our own blood pressure.

If Wesley ever decides to stand, you will know about it. We will work out the anonymity question then.

Hey WW,

The fans online are unbearable. Someone should say something.

Sent via DM

(Followed by six more DMs saying the same thing)

We have said something. Repeatedly. Loudly. It has not worked.

Dear Wesley,

No question. Just Come on you Dons.

No name given

COYD

That’s all for the summer edition of the post bag. Please continue writing in. Wesley has nothing else to do and the football does not start for some time.

WombleWorld

The retained list was released on Tuesday. Three names sat in a category called “Ongoing Discussions Over A New Contract.” Patrick Bauer. Omar Bugiel. Joe Lewis. Three professionals. One bureaucratic limbo.

Naturally, fans asked what this meant. We called Craig Cope and asked.

Cope was, as ever, gracious. He used the phrase “live conversations.” He used the phrase “in good spirits.” He referred twice to “the right outcome for all parties.” None of this clarified anything. We pressed for specifics. He said the process was “robust.” We pressed harder. He said it was “values-aligned.” We pressed harder still.

That was when he mentioned the centaur.

He recovered fast. Said he meant centre-back. Said we’d misheard. Hung up.

But the line had crackled at the wrong moment, and what we had was enough. There is a process. The process has stages. The stages are not what you think.

What follows is what WombleWorld can confirm, via sources, intuition, and one document we are not going to say how we obtained.

Players in ongoing discussions do not, in fact, sit in offices haggling over signing-on bonuses or potential automatic extension clauses. They are taken, on the first Thursday after the retained list, to an undisclosed location near Morden. There they undergo one trial each. Performance determines the offer. Survival determines whether there is one.

Each trial is overseen by a different member of the football operations team. Jake Reeves © watches all three from a raised gantry, option already safely triggered, untroubled.

Trial One: Patrick Bauer

Bauer’s trial was overseen by Mark Robinson - joining the processes on a consultancy basis - who arrived in a quarter-zip with a clipboard. He read out the brief. Bauer, who had read it in advance in two languages, listened politely.

He was given a centaur.

The centaur, Robinson explained, was no different to a wing-back in transition. Half man, half something faster. Prone to overcommitting. Bauer was instructed to tackle it. Robinson stood ten yards away and shouted “embrace the gallop.”

Bauer won the tackle. Cleanly. Bauer then attempted to play out from the back but misplaced the pass as he was kicked by four-legs all at once. Centaur’s revenge. The centaur left in a huff, muttering about discipline. Robinson called it “synergistic resilience-testing to extrapolate potential for future injury” and made a note.

Bauer was placed in limbo pending a review of his distribution metrics.

Trial Two: Omar Bugiel

Bugiel’s trial was overseen by Ashley Bayes, who had laid out a circle of candles and was already in a light trance when Bugiel arrived.

Bugiel arrived with his customary bandage. Nobody knows what the bandage is for. Bugiel does not appear to know what the bandage is for. The bandage simply exists. Bayes said it was “channelling something.” He declined to say what.

Bugiel was handed a bow.

The brief was straightforward. Hit a moving target six times from twelve yards. Each hit unlocked one tier of the conversion bonus. Bayes said the bow was “ready to receive his intent.” Cope, listening in remotely, called it “commercially appropriate.”

Bugiel drew the bow with the bandaged hand. He hit the target four times. The fifth arrow went over. The sixth went out for a throw-in. Bayes said this was the universe rewarding effort but withholding excess.

Bugiel was passed. Bayes blew out the candles in a specific order. Bugiel was sent home to await communication. Communication, sources confirm, will be in due course.

Trial Three: Joe Lewis

Lewis’s trial was overseen by Dave Reddington, who arrived with a pigeon. Nobody asked.

Lewis got the lightning.

Reddington took up position on the technical area roof and began throwing lightning bolts. They were, on inspection, foam. This did not stop him from shouting “feel the voltage” with each one, in a voice he had clearly been practising. Lewis, being a centre back, headed them away. He cleared all fourteen. One was sent so high it has yet to be recovered.

It was the cleanest performance of the day. Reddington described it as “the heron’s strike, but vertical” and the pigeon on his shoulder, in his view, agreed.

Then Robin Bedford arrived with a tape measure and a clipboard.

Lewis’s shorts, retroactively measured, were ruled 4cm tighter than League One specification. Reddington argued briefly that the tightness had been “aerodynamically load-bearing” but was overruled by the clipboard.

The trial was annulled. Lewis was sent to wait in the changing room pending a ruling. Nobody has told him the trials are over. Nobody has told him they have, in any meaningful sense, restarted.

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Closing Thoughts

Three players. Three trials. Three different ways to remain in ongoing discussions.

What we know: Bauer is in limbo, awaiting a review of his distribution metrics. Bugiel is at home, awaiting communication. Lewis is in the changing room, awaiting a ruling.

What we don’t know: whether any of this will resolve. Offers may be made. Or not. They may be received. Or not. The trials may be reconvened, abandoned, or quietly forgotten by August.

What we suspect: discussions will continue to be ongoing until they are not.

We rang Cope back for comment. He put us on hold. The hold music was Champagne Supernova. We are still waiting.

WombleWorld

Despite all the podcasts reporting it as 100% truth from an anonymous inside source. It is in fact an unconfirmed rumour that the centaur was Terry Skiverton and his twin brother Trevor in an adapted pantomime horse costume.

We told you not to panic. We are not going to say we told you so. That would be unbecoming.

The WombleWorld End of Season Awards (WWEOSA - pronounced at your own discretion) are awarded annually at the conclusion of the AFC Wimbledon season. This is the first year they have existed. We expect them to become a tradition.

We were mathematically safe in mid-March. The 4-0 defeat on the final day was therefore a kind of celebration. A garnish. A flourish on a season that did not require one but got one anyway. It is fine. We are fine. Everything is fine.

These are the WWEOSAs. Presented annually. Inaugurally. For the first time. Already a tradition.

Womble of the Season: Steve Seddon

There is a version of this award that goes to whoever scored the most dramatic goal, or whoever had the best single performance, or whoever the algorithms decided was our player of the season based on touches in the opposition half during a Tuesday night in February.

We are not doing that.

Steve Seddon played every single game this season. Every one. In a campaign that required, at various points, the constitution of a mountain goat, the temperament of a hostage negotiator, and a genuine willingness to keep turning up, Steve was there. All of it. Every match.

He also contributed eight assists, which is the kind of number that makes you check it twice. Eight. For a left back (and sometimes a centre back). In League One. During a relegation battle. The man was not simply doing his job. He was doing everyone else’s job as well, from a position that technically requires him to stop things rather than start them.

His Fotmob rating was the highest in the squad (and WombleWorld is nothing if not consistent with it’s data driven vibe based assessments). His commitment was total. His temperament was unimpeachable.

And he was born on Christmas Day, which has to count for something. We are not entirely sure what. But it counts. A lot.

Beer of the Year: San Miguel

It won a fan vote to be stocked at Plough Lane. It has been served at Plough Lane. It will continue to be served at Plough Lane. It did not have a difficult season. It did not miss a single game. It did not require a working group.

DTB Member of the Year: James Longhurst

This award is not usually handed out with genuine warmth. We prefer irony. We are comfortable with irony. Irony asks nothing of us.

This year we are setting it aside.

Over the course of the season James became the driving force behind the 50.01% campaign. Not in a loud way. Not in a way that required a press release or a subcommittee or a working group with a terms of reference document. He pushed for urgency when urgency was needed, and made sure conversations that needed to happen happened. The 50.01% vote passed.

James Longhurst had a very good season. In a job that is entirely voluntary, frequently thankless, and occasionally subjected to the full creative force of a small part of a fan base holding you to account via Discord. James is DTB Member of the Year.

Genuinely meant.

Fan of the Year: East Stand, Block 124, Row E, Seat 12

The WombleWorld Fan of the Year award operates on a different basis to the others.

We have selected a seat. At random. If you were in that seat for the majority of home games this season, you are the WombleWorld Fan of the Year. You are entitled to a WombleWorld mug, which will be posted to you at our expense, assuming you come forward, and assuming we can afford the postage.

Contact us. Prove your attendance. The mug is waiting.

WombleWorld Subscriber of the Year: The Paying Few

AFC Wimbledon won a fan engagement award this season. We responded by putting the article about it behind a paywall. The joke wrote itself. We took the credit anyway.

Most of you are reading this for free. That is fine. That is, broadly, the WombleWorld business model. You are all the reason that any of this exists in the form it does, the match reports, the governance pieces, the WWEOSAs you are currently reading, the running jokes.

The paywall is decorative. It exists mainly so that the small number of people who have chosen to pay for it can feel, correctly, that they are doing something the rest of you are not.

WombleWorld+ is £3.75 a month. Less than half a pint of San Miguel at Plough Lane.

If you are reading this and you are not a subscriber, the maths is straightforward. And you’d be supporting a digital fanzine/blog/whatever this is.

WombleWorld+ Subscriber of the Year. The paying few. Thank you. Genuinely meant.

Subscribe now

Shop Merch of the Year: The BIG Bobble Hat

There were contenders. The Haydon hand puppet made a strong play. He is magnificent. He is also, clearly, the work of someone who looked at a Womble and thought “what if Jim Henson, but in a hurry.” We respect it. But we will not be giving him an award.

The Big Bobble Hat takes it.

It is genuinely enormous. The bobble alone has its own postcode. Worn correctly, it will completely obscure the view of any fan unfortunate enough to be sat directly behind you. They will catch fragments of the pitch through the bobble. They will not see the football.

Which, given some of what they would otherwise have been watching this season, is probably for the best.

Capitulation of the Season: Last Day, 4-0

We had to acknowledge it somewhere. We are doing it here.

We were safe. We knew this. The players knew this. The opposition knew this. Everyone knew this. The match was therefore played in the spirit of two teams who had nothing to play for and one team who had nothing to play for but had also clearly decided to play for nothing.

4-0 is a specific scoreline. Not 1-0, the dignified loss. Not 2-0, the regrettable but explainable. Not 3-0, the bad day. 4-0 is a statement. The statement is “we are on the beach already and the beach is closed for refurbishment.”

We have spent the season telling you not to panic. We are not going to start now.

Closing Thoughts

The season is over. We are still a League One club.

This was, depending on your perspective, a test of character, an exercise in survival, or a fairly standard AFC Wimbledon experience dressed up in slightly higher-stakes clothing. Possibly all three. The 4-0 on the last day is doing its best to muddy the water but should not be allowed to. We were safe. The football was a footnote.

The awards above were earned. Some of them painfully. The club, the board, and the fanbase have spent nine months doing what this club always does: holding things together through a combination of goodwill, stubbornness, and an unreasonable attachment to the idea that it will be fine.

It was fine. It is fine. We told you it would be.

WombleWorld

Steve Seddon has been asked how he plans to spend his summer. He said he intends to play every minute of it.

We were quietly worried.

Then Antwoine Hackford arrived at the back post, did the thing substitutes are paid to do, and the worry was over. WE ARE STAYING UP.

The last few weeks have been a slow, grinding test of nerves.

Form: bad.

Injuries: many.

Mood: anxious.

Every match a referendum on whether this Wimbledon side could find a result when it mattered, and every match for a while now ending with a slightly more strained group chat than the one before.

Then we went to Wigan. We were average. We were poor. We had a red card (sort of) and then for one clean, unimaginable second in stoppage time, we were perfect.

Job done. Safety secured. Bayzo’s candle, lit, and re-lit for the run in, has finally been heard.

The Team

The shape was familiar. Whether it looked like the graphic, as ever, was a matter of interpretation.

The bench was where the day would be decided. Sasu, Nelson, Hackford.

The Match

Wigan started better. Of course they did.

We were the away team needing a result, which under age old football rules means you give possession away, look anxious, and hope.

Stewart had the chance. Through, one-on-one, the kind of moment that decides games. Tickle was off his line in a flash. Save. Arms all of the place. Of course they were.

Then the half’s main incident. The ball ran out of play near the Wimbledon technical area. Terry Skiverton, the man whose job description has historically included the phrase “sort it out,” looked at the ball, and sorted it out.

He punched it. Towards goal. From the technical area.

A straight red card. Of course it was.

Half-time. 0-0. Down a coach.

The second half mirrored the first. The clock ticked. The away end started doing maths it didn’t want to do.

Sasu on. Nelson on. Hackford on. Asiimwe on. The bench emptied like a man working through every kitchen drawer in turn looking for the one specific thing that will fix everything.

Stoppage time. Nelson on the left, low cross. Hackford at the near post. Connected. Bottom corner.

The away end behaved accordingly. Of course they did.

Full-time. We are staying up. And that was that.

What the Manager Says

JJ, beaming, said this:

Comparing a 1-0 stoppage-time survival win at Wigan to lifting the play-off trophy at Wembley sounds, on paper, mad. It is, in fact, not mad at all.

You only get those days when the alternative was something properly bad. Promotion at Wembley felt like that because we’d spent ages not promoting. Survival at Wigan feels like that because for about three weeks we were genuinely, daily, going down. The relief is the same currency.

JJ knew what he meant. He’s right.

Womble of the Week: Johnnie Jackson.

A break from format. The Womble of the Week is rarely the manager. The Womble of the Week is even more rarely a man who didn’t kick a ball. But this week, the case is open and shut.

The last six weeks have been the kind of stretch that, in another club’s hands, becomes a sacking. That’s not the Wimbledon way, we do not do that. And JJ has not given anyone a reason to wonder if we should. Calm in interviews. Honest in losses. Unflustered in selection. Uncomplaining about absences.

He has, in the most literal sense, kept us up. The players didn’t crack today because the manager didn’t crack at any point in the last month. That is the whole job, and he did it.

Closing Thoughts

We are staying up. League One again next year. With everything that means: bigger budgets, bigger crowds, harder fixtures, the chance to settle and build and not have to do this again.

This was not a vintage season. It will not be remembered for its football. The injuries were bad, the form dips were hard work to watch, the stretches where we looked nothing like a League One side were real.

But surviving the season after promotion, with a budget like ours, with the squad we ended up fielding by April, is not without merit. It is, in fact, significant.

Plenty of clubs come up and go straight back down. We didn’t.

JJ and his staff get the summer to plan. Cope gets the summer to recruit. We get the summer to breathe.

On to next season. Slightly bigger, if not enormous, plans.

WombleWorld

Robin Bedford has put the away kit on at 30 degrees. The week, he reasoned, has been hard enough on everything already.

There comes a moment in every Dons Trust Board Member’s time in office when someone, usually after a particularly tiring evening engaging on the members’ forum, mutters the cursed words: “Should we just get rid of Discord?”

That moment has arrived. And this time, they meant it.

On 24 April, the Dons Trust announced that Dons Discord will close on 31 May 2026. The board has unanimously agreed. The volunteers will be thanked. The server will go dark.

WombleWorld, it must be said, agrees with the decision.

Having a Discord is not a right. It is a resource. And a resource that requires a two-man neighbourhood watch to moderate, generates fewer than 25 active users out of a 7,500-strong membership, and exposes the Trust to the Online Safety Act every time someone types the word “Skiverton” in capitals just in case it triggers a complaint.

WombleWorld has also, if we are honest, been otherwise occupied. There has been cognitive dissociation to manage. A relegation scrap to not think about. A weekend fixture to quietly dread. When you thought we were safe when taking your holiday in March but find yourself scouring the League two table in April, Discord is not where your head goes.

What the Decision Actually Says

The reasoning in the statement is sound. It reads like it has been reviewed, approved, re-reviewed, and emotionally processed by multiple working groups. The kind of statement written by someone who has been in rooms with people shouting at each other for two years and has finally been allowed to file the paperwork.

Three things stand out.

1. Fewer than 25 regularly active members. The kind of participation rate that a community litter pick on Wimbledon Common on a Tuesday in February gets.

2. The Online Safety Act. Under-18s excluded. Risk assessments drafted. Off-platform policies created. All to prevent a members’ forum from accidentally becoming the dark web of South West London.

3. Email works better. You simply have to be on email these days. The unglamorous infrastructure that actually reaches and engages a significant number of members. Discord, for all its channels, slickness and GIFs, never did.

The Consequences:

Agreeing with a decision is not the same as pretending it has no consequences. None of what follows is an argument for keeping Discord open.

Consequence one: There is always a forum

When the only official channel for DT conversation shuts down, the conversation does not stop. It simply migrates back to where it used to live. Somewhere older, smaller, and considerably less moderated. Where the same thirty or forty regulars of the last twenty-five years will resume their positions like curators returning to a reopened museum.

Consequence two: the Kiosk.

The statement notes that members have always been able to engage “in person at every game via the kiosk.” This is technically true.

It is also true that WombleWorld has been to the kiosk and counted more DTB members than Members. At one game, a Board member was overheard asking another Board member what he thought of the budget.

The kiosk is a nicely decorated storage container, not a communication strategy. That is not a criticism. It is a description.

Consequence three: the Youth.

The June and August minutes had notes about younger members starting to engage through Discord. That now stops.

The message to the under-30s is, please find us on Facebook like it’s 2008.

What Comes Next

The statement promises drop-in meetings every two months, at the stadium, around Wimbledon, and online. WombleWorld will attend. WombleWorld will report.

We encourage every member to do the same, on the reasonable expectation that every two months will rapidly become once a quarter during the season.

Closing Thoughts

The club has real issues. Major ones. Budget gaps. Bonds. Training ground risks. Governance reform. Share allocations. Financial sustainability. A relegation scrap that WombleWorld is trying very hard to think about only between the hours of 3pm and 5pm on a Saturday.

Closing Discord does not cause any of those problems. It does not fix any of them either.

That is the DTB’s call to make. They have made it. It was the right one. They have limited time and they need to use that time effectively.

Discord closes on 31 May. The season ends a few weeks before that. Whoever mapped those two dates onto a calendar either has a dark sense of humour or was not thinking about relegation when they put forward the motion.

WombleWorld

Wesley will observe a minute’s silence on 31 May, broken only by the sound of a notification from a WhatsApp group he did not ask to be added to.

SKIVERTON

Not dramatically. Not historically. Not in a way that will be shown on Sky Sports for years to come. Just… another loss.

Burton away. Header from a long throw. The kind of goal that exists purely to test your emotional resilience. We don’t want to relive it any more than that.

But open the table. Scroll down. Pause. Scroll back up as if it might have changed. Start calculating points totals like you are revising for an exam you didn’t choose to sit.

This is WombleWorld’s official, calm, entirely measured response.

Do not panic.

We are in a bad run.

We are not scoring. We are conceding soft goals. We have lots of injuries. We are losing tight games. It all feels a bit flat. A bit predictable.

Fine. Accepted.

The idea that the current run is the ultimate truth and everything before it was a lie needs binning immediately.

True, it isn’t the first time this season we have been in a rut. But it’s also true that we have come out of a rut when it’s really mattered.

We have had good spells this season. The kind where we looked organised, dangerous, and it was even enjoyable.

The kind of run where WHAD briefly ran out of things to complain about and had to pivot to off the pitch moaning.

Teams swing. Especially in League 1. Especially teams like us, who have no money for a luxury such as squad depth.

There is no secret formula. No hidden conspiracy.

This is bad form, arriving. Staying a bit too long. Then hopefully leaving just as suddenly.

The Table

Yes, it is tight. Yes, teams around us are picking up points.

Yes, Burton have leapfrogged us. Which sounds worse than it is.

But…we are still in the pack.

Not bottom. Not cut adrift. Not relying on other teams to collapse while we discover a new sport.

Just…in it. This is not 21/22.

And being in it means control still exists. Limited control. Slightly chaotic control. But control nonetheless.

One win changes the picture. Two wins and suddenly everyone is talking about “great character” again. Three wins and someone on a podcast is asking if we left it too late for the playoffs.

Do We Have Enough?

Short answer. Yes.

Long answer. Yes, but it might not look pretty.

We have players who can decide games. We have seen it. Browne when he feels like it. Tilley when he is fit. Nkeng doing increasingly alarming things to full-backs. Jennings who can score directly from corners if you play him.

We are not devoid of quality. We are not a team waiting for a miracle.

We are a team waiting for a moment.

And those moments tend to come. Often when you least expect them. Usually when you have just convinced yourself they never will.

Perspective.

We were not meant to storm this league.

We were not meant to be cruising comfortably in 12th, sipping something cold and discussing next season’s promotion push.

We are operating where we operate. Budget-wise. Squad-wise. Reality-wise.

Staying up is the job.

Not in a glamorous way. Not in a statement-making way. Just in a “we are still here next season” way.

And if we do that, it is success. Stressful success. But success.

But if we don’t have enough, then we go down.

And if we go down, we play in League 2 next year. This is not existential. It is football. And given our current budget is being a yo-yo between League 1 and 2 the worst thing in the world?

Fan Reaction: A Live Case Study

Social media is currently in top form.

Relegation confirmed. Squad not good enough. JJ out. Possibly sell the stadium. Definitely sell the club.

All posted with absolute certainty. All posted after every game. All posted by the same people who declared us “safe” three weeks ago.

It is all part of it. But none of it changes the reality on the pitch.

A Sensible Proposal

Given the current mood, we would like to suggest the following.

An SGM.

Agenda item one: Should AFC Wimbledon remain in League One?

Voting options, as approved by the relevant subcommittee and cross referenced to the newly approved constitution.

• Yes (subject to definition of “remaining”)

• No

• Abstain (to prove your point to no one in particular while stating that your view is pending receipt of the DTB’s impact assessment paper).

The DTB is current forming a working group to consult with members to establish what “staying up” means in operational strategic terms. The group will then prepare the impact assessment paper which will be thorough, balanced, and available in plenty of time before the vote closes.

Closing Thoughts:

We are wobbling. That is undeniable.

We are not finished. That is equally undeniable.

There are games left. Points left. Moments left.

We think we have enough. Not loads. Not comfortably. But enough.

And if we do not? Then we go down. That is how this works.

Until then, maybe just ease off the panic slightly.

Or at least wait until the 85th minute on Wednesday.

WombleWorld

Ashely Bayes has combined meditation with self-medication. We don’t fully understand it but a San Miguel scented candle will be available in the club shop imminently.

Instead, this.

A 4–2 defeat at home to Leyton Orient in a game that had everything. Goals. Momentum swings. Defensive generosity. A brief and glorious reminder that football is meant to be fun. Followed by the equally familiar reminder that it can also be deeply irritating.

And yet. It didn’t feel like the Wimbledon of December and January.

Because not that long ago we were sat through 0–0s where the highlight was a throw-in won in the attacking half. Conversations in the stands about “shape” and “discipline” to cover for the fact we hadn’t had a shot. The sort of football that makes you question your life choices around 3.27pm.

Now we are losing 4–2 and shrugging slightly because at least something happened.

Now that’s what I call progress.

The Team

The Match

We started well.

Browne nearly scored early. Cleared off the line. Nkeng brought down in the chaos of the penalty box. No penalty. Of course no penalty.

Then, as is tradition, the opposition scored with their first real attack. Ballard. A Rebound. 0–1.

It felt familiar. The script we’ve seen too many times.

Except this time, we responded

Nkeng was everywhere. Direct. Aggressive. Wanting the ball. Doing things with it. Not just recycling possession back to someone safer. An 18-year-old playing like someone who hasn’t yet learned he’s supposed to be cautious.

He got his reward. First senior goal. Lifted over the keeper. In off the post. Bravo Robert!

Then another. Because why not. Seddon cross. Far post. Nkeng again. 2–1. Bravo Robert!!

From nowhere to being ahead. Plough Lane awake. Actual noise. Actual belief. A sense that we might just be… good?

A Dangerous thought. Half-time came with us ahead and we deserved to be ahead.

Then the second half happened…

Orient changed their shape. We didn’t. They equalised early. Ballard again. Clinical. Annoyingly so.

And you could feel it. The shift. The game tilting.
Then the third. Cut back. Finish. 2–3.
Then the fourth. Rebound. Hat-trick. 2–4.

And that was the game gone. Not in a slow, inevitable way. In a rush. A blur. One of those ten-minute spells where everything unravels and you’re left trying to work out what just happened.

We had a couple of late efforts. Reeves © blocked. Stevens denied. We couldn’t quite find a way back.

And that was that.

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What the fans are saying

Some frustration. Understandably. Conceding four at home will do that to you. Questions about defending. About game management. About whether we need to learn when to shut things down.

But also something else. A recognition that this is different.

We overhead someone in the Phoenix after the game on boxing day. You know the one. The 0-0 to end all 0-0s. The one that left you thinking you’d eat 24 sprouts when you get home just to check if you are still alive. Back when we were grinding out those lifeless games. Someone said they’d rather lose 4–2 having a go than draw 0–0 with a whimper.

Turns out that someone was probably Johnnie Jackson.

Womble of the Week: Robert Junior Nkeng.

Two goals. Constant threat. And more importantly, something resembling a final product.

That’s been the question. We’ve seen the pace. The directness. The willingness to run at people. But end product is what turns “promising” into “important”.

He’s 18. Worth repeating. Because the expectations will now rise. That’s how it works. Score twice and suddenly you’re expected to do it every week.

He won’t. That’s fine.

What matters is his progress. And right now, it’s pointing the right way.

Closing thoughts

Back-to-back defeats. On paper, not great. But context matters.

We are edging towards mid-table. Actual mid-table. Not “technically 14th but only three points above the drop” mid-table. Proper, comfortable, look-up-not-down territory.

More importantly, we’re scoring goals. We’re creating chances. We’re playing with a bit of freedom. A bit of belief.

We are, whisper it, having fun.

It doesn’t mean everything is rosy all the time. It doesn’t mean we won’t have more afternoons and evening like this, where it all goes a bit wrong.

Somewhere, someone is still angry about it. Probably on X. Possibly typing in all caps. Definitely convinced that JJ was the worst thing to ever happen to this club. And that we’ll be in administration by Thursday. But everyone else is starting to realise that this is a perfectly respectable season post-promotion.

On to Peterborough and REVENGE. See you Saturday.

WombleWorld

Meanwhile, on Facebook, Robin Bedford has started a new group to discuss washing kits at 40 degrees regardless of how dirty they are, provided you add bicarbonate soda and vinegar.
Three members. He is delighted.

It was Worldwide Wombles Weekend. Fans came from over twenty seven countries this weekend. Some travelled hours. Some travelled days. One person, we are reliably informed, came from New Zealand, which raises questions about life choices that we are not qualified to answer.

Fifteen languages were spoken inside Plough Lane. Fifteen different ways of ordering a San Miguel and arguing with the staff about happy hour. Fifteen different ways of trying to have a conversation with the DTB about 50+1. And fifteen different ways of telling Nesta Guinness-Walker, that his left-back display was not up to scratch, and that he should reconsider his own life choices.

Some things do not require translation.

Nesta, we could tell, heard all of it. In every language. From fans who had travelled collectively tens of thousands of miles to wind up a left-back they were never that fussed about to begin with.

He did not score. He did not play well. We choose to read into that.

It was also a Sunday 12pm kick-off. The perfect time for a football match. A rearranged fixture for Sky. The only people watching were those who couldn’t attend due to the fixture being rearranged for Sky.

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The Team

One change from Mansfield. Joe McDonnell in for Nathan Bishop, who was absent without further explanation. Where is Bishop? The club has not said. WombleWorld has not been told. We are choosing to treat this as a mystery and are liaising directly with Womble PI McCoy-Splatt. We will report back if we find anything.

The shape looked broadly as expected. Whether it looked like the graphic is a separate question.

We are also not sure what Stevens did to upset the WW Match Rating Algorithm (WWMRA). We thought he was broadly fine.

The Match

The first half was, by the standards of a Sunday lunchtime in League One, excellent. Wimbledon pressed high, moved the ball quickly, and created with genuine fluency. James Tilley was everywhere, skipping past defenders, whipping in crosses, forcing saves. The atmosphere, such as it was at noon on a grey Sunday, lifted accordingly.

The goal arrived early and deserved its standing. A cross from the right, a Seddon header across goal, and then Marcus Browne produced a backheel that dropped perfectly for Callum Marchcock. He met it on the half-volley and didn’t miss. It was the kind of goal that requires three people to do something right in quick succession, which at this level is rarer than it sounds.

The lead should probably have been at least two by half-time. Marchcock had a volley saved. Tilley had an effort parried. Northampton, who had played in the nonsense cup semi-final in midweek, were not at their most threatening (translation for the WorldWideWombles - they were toilet). One-nil at the break felt like an undercount.

The second half was a different game. Northampton made adjustments. The space closed. Jake Evans tested McDonnell twice in quick succession he dealt with both calmly and cleanly. A late Browne effort was cleared off the line. Five minutes of stoppage time passed without incident.

Three points. Fourteenth place. A performance that, whisper it, had genuine shape to it.

What the Manager Says

JJ described it as “a really good day”. This is exactly the kind of considered, insightful assessment you would hope for. He was also “pleased”. “Very pleased”. With “loads of elements.”

More usefully: he acknowledged that the second half was designed to be ugly. The team knew at half-time that Northampton would change shape and chase the game. They spoke about it. They prepared for it. And then they did the ugly side of it, as he put it, “equally as well.”

This is actually interesting. A team that can be two different things in the same 90 minutes is a more functional team than one that can only play well when things are going well. The consistency, the settled squad, the bench contributing when called upon. JJ keeps returning to these things and the evidence is beginning to support him.

He also said Browne’s backheel was something “not everyone’s got that in their locker.” He is correct. Most of us don’t have a locker.

Womble of the Week: Callum Marchcock

McDonnell was excellent. Unhurried, reliable, decisive when it mattered. A man of the match award for everyone else it seems, which we here at WombleWorld fully endorse.

But Marchcock was the reason the game was won. The goal required him to be in the right place, moving at the right moment, with the composure to connect cleanly under pressure. He also had a near-identical chance saved before half-time. He works the channels, he runs beyond, he shows up in the box repeatedly and without fanfare.

“Callum does what he does”. For once, JJ put it perfectly.

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Closing Thoughts

Three unbeaten. Fourteenth in the table, equidistant from the play-offs and the drop zone. It has a certain symmetry to it.

Those with longer memories will recognise the pattern. Early in JJ’s tenure, results came in clusters. A run of wins, then a run of losses, then repeat. The tide turns. It will turn again before May. It is just how football works, and how this club in particular tends to work.

But we are pointing the right way at the moment. The team has shape. The squad has cohesion. And on a Sunday when nobody asked to be at a football ground at noon, that’s all we can ask for.

Enjoy it. While it’s here.

WombleWorld

JJ reviewed the Browne backheel seventeen times before his post-match interview. He was later seen by WW sources practicing in the 1889 Lounge after the game. No further comment.

The following is a transcript of a call received by the Dons Trust Governance Helpline (DTGH) following the 50.01% vote announcement.

This call was recorded for training and monitoring purposes. It has also been obtained by WombleWorld through sources we are not at liberty to disclose, though we will note that rumours about the source are already circulating on X and are somewhat partially accurate.

The helpline operative’s name has been withheld. The caller’s name has been withheld. The caller’s concerns have not been withheld. The caller has a lot of concerns.

OPERATIVE: Dons Trust Governance Helpline, you’re through to Wesley, how can I help?

CALLER: Yes. Hi. I’ve heard some things.

OPERATIVE: Okay. What have you heard?

CALLER: We’re going bust. Like Bury.

OPERATIVE: [pause] Where did you hear we were going bust?

CALLER: Discord.

OPERATIVE: Right.

CALLER: And someone on WUP said a friend of a friend had heard something on a podcast.

OPERATIVE: I see.

CALLER: He seemed very sure.

OPERATIVE: That’s not where we are. The Boards have set out the financial position clearly. Yes we have an operating loss of around two million a year before player sales, with cashflow pressure building over the next eighteen months without significant player trading income. That’s real.

The 50.01% vote is a response to that. It’s not a sign of imminent collapse.

CALLER: So we might go bust.

OPERATIVE: The vote exists precisely to improve that outlook. That is the point of it.

CALLER: Right. Okay. I’ve also heard that if this passes, the DTB won’t be able to appoint and remove directors on their own any more.

OPERATIVE: Partially true. The DT Board retains day-to-day governance authority. Major ownership decisions still require member approval at the thresholds laid out in the constitution. The Dons Trust still have a single blocking vote if needed.

Which is, if we’re being precise about it, the entire founding principle of the Dons Trust.

CALLER: So they can’t just get rid of people.

OPERATIVE: Not unilaterally. No.

CALLER: Is that bad?

OPERATIVE: We would suggest that is probably fine.

CALLER: I’ve also heard it means they’ll have to cut the working groups.

OPERATIVE: [pause] Where did you hear that?

CALLER: Facebook.

OPERATIVE: The working groups are not mentioned anywhere in the resolutions paper, the prospectus, the proposed constitution, or Schedule 1.

CALLER: Someone said the new constitution streamlines things.

OPERATIVE: It simplifies the governance structure. That is generally considered a positive development.

CALLER: But what about the working groups.

OPERATIVE: The working groups will be fine.

CALLER: There’s a really good communications working group, it’s my favourite of all the working groups. Will that stay?

OPERATIVE: Yes, I’m sure it will. Is there anything else?

CALLER: Yes, the 2002 thing.

OPERATIVE: Go on.

CALLER: My dad helped build this club. Combined Counties. Ryman League. He was at Kingsmeadow when it all kicked off. He gave money he didn’t really have and time he definitely didn’t have. All of it was so no one could ever do to us what happened at Wimbledon FC. That’s why 75% matters. It’s not just a number. It’s the whole point. It was decided for a reason.

OPERATIVE: Yes.

CALLER: So if we change it, what was any of it for?

OPERATIVE: The club he helped build is still here. Still ours. Back at Plough Lane where we belong. The name, the colours, the ground - all still protected under the Restricted Actions Schedule at the same thresholds. Still safe.

What’s moving is the investment floor, and only to 50.01%, with a block vote that functions as a practical veto.

CALLER: It doesn’t feel the same.

OPERATIVE: No. It doesn’t. That’s honest. But the fan food park will still be there. The atmosphere. The community. The Fans. Plus we’ll always have MyPie.

CALLER: We don’t have MyPie any more.

OPERATIVE: I’m sorry?

CALLER: Catering contract changed. MyPie went ages ago.

OPERATIVE: [long pause]

OPERATIVE: Right. Yes. I knew that.

OPERATIVE: [longer pause]

OPERATIVE: [quietly] I miss MyPie.

CALLER: The mash was good.

OPERATIVE: And the gravy.

CALLER: Yeah.

OPERATIVE: [pause] Right. Where were we.

CALLER: 2002.

OPERATIVE: Yes. Look, the protest, the volunteers, the wet Tuesdays in the Combined Counties - it worked. It worked so well we got to League One and hopefully we’ll stay there. And League One has costs that Combined Counties didn’t. Your dad doesn’t have to like this vote. He just needs to read the documents and decide.

CALLER: He’s not great with email.

OPERATIVE: The vote can be cast in person during the meeting. He can even hear live discussion if he wants. SGM One is Monday 23rd March, 7pm, 1889 Lounge at Plough Lane.

CALLER: He might come to that actually.

OPERATIVE: Good. We’d like him there.

CALLER: [pause] Are we definitely not going bust?

OPERATIVE: We’re doing everything we can to make sure we don’t.

CALLER: Okay. That’s something.

OPERATIVE: It is. Is there anything else?

CALLER: No. I think that’s it. Sorry for getting anxious. I’d heard all the rumours and….

OPERATIVE: Don’t be. That’s what the helpline is for. And don’t forget to subscribe to WombleWorld on Substack.

The full WombleWorld guide to the 50.01% vote - including what the documents actually says, the option in plain English, and a brief taxonomy of people who are wrong about this for entirely different reasons - is coming soon. In plenty of time for you to read before the 23rd March.

WombleWorld

Wesley remains available on the helpline. He has read Schedule 1. He found it calming. He recommends it. He cannot, however, recommend the current catering arrangements as there are no options that include mash.

We were made of something stubborn.

The Team

Unchanged.

Johnnie Jackson stuck with the same team and the same bench that beat Bradford. No tinkering. No cleverness. Just trust in what worked.

Or if you are so inclined, a deluded lack of tactical knowledge and bravery where he just keeps doing the same thing until it doesn’t work anymore.

The Match

Seven minutes in and we were behind.

Victor Adeboyejo ran into the sort of space that makes defensive coaches stare into the middle distance. Cut back. Jon Russell finished. 1–0.

It could have unravelled. It did not.

Seven minutes later, James Tilley produced one of those moments that changes the temperature of a game. It was all about the assist. A beauty. Febcock robbed a weak goal kick before laying off a beautiful pass to Tilley. All he had to do was surge through three half-challenges and hit one from 20 yards that kissed the post on its way in. And he did. 1–1.

Mansfield were not done. Lucas Akins headed over when he should have scored. Russell did not miss again when Tyler Roberts dropped one over the top. 2–1.

Half time. Behind. Not broken.

Second half, we were sharper. More intent. Hippolyte and Tilley combined down the left. Close.

Then the key moment. Stevens brought down but our ex Captain Deji Oshilaja. The world’s smallest centre back. Thanks Mate. Penalty.

A delay long enough for everyone in the away end to replay every bad penalty we have ever taken. Stevens waited. Sent Liam Roberts the wrong way. 2–2.

From there it was chaos.

Oates missed. Bishop saved. Bauer blocked. Ogundere recovered like his life depended on it. Browne had a late free kick blocked by the wall.

It ended level. Breathless. Hard-earned.

Womble of the Week: Marcus Browne.

He was involved in everything that mattered. Driving us forward. Winning territory. Pulling defenders out of shape. When he plays with this edge, we look like a team with ideas rather than one hoping for accidents.

Which brings us to the obvious point.

Sign him up. Increase his wages by an average of 13 percent. That feels fair. That is, after all, the going rate for increases in this part of South West London.

Closing Thoughts

This is what clawing towards safety looks like.

Not a grand charge. Not a dramatic escape act. Just a sensible well managed team recovering from a bad January to have a good February.

We are not safe yet, but we are getting there slowly.

Oh, and we need to keep Browne fit.

WombleWorld

Robin Bedford has created a new Facebook group dedicated to the merits of washing kits at 40 degrees regardless of levels of mud, provided you add a confident splash of bicarbonate of soda and vinegar. It currently has three members. He is delighted.

After the intensity of facing the league leaders in midweek, this was about authority. AFC Wimbledon beat Bradford City 3–1 at Plough Lane in a performance that felt composed rather than chaotic. The sort of win that suggests a team settling into itself.

Kick-off was delayed thanks to Bradford’s relaxed interpretation of timekeeping. We once bought Wally Downes a watch after he kept us up with a 0-0 draw at Valley Parade. In hindsight, we should have left it there for them to use.

Once we finally got underway, Tilley opened it. Browne ran it. Stevens backheeled it. And Bishop closed it.

It was professional, precise, and the kind of performance we saw last season. Unlike the pre-match timekeeping from our opponents.

The Team

Two changes from Cardiff. Bauer returned to add ballast. Stevens came in to lead the line. Bugiel and Nkeng dropped to the bench.

Notable Absences: A WombleWorld source with insight into the onboarding process for new players disclosed that Layton Stewart had been “buddied” with Delano McCoy-Splatt.

Layton hasn’t been seen on the pitch yet and the club have refused to comment on the abduction of yet another squad member.

The Match

The first ten minutes were quiet. Bradford compact. Us patient.

Then Tilley swung one in, after an insightful pass from Ogundere.

Cross or shot. Nobody quite sure. It drifted. It dipped. It evaded everyone including former Don Sam Walker and found the bottom corner.

One nil. Slightly stunned applause. Then louder applause. Mainly for the assist.

We nearly doubled it immediately. From the restart we broke quickly. Browne lifted over when well placed. He did not sulk. He simply carried on.

He was everywhere in that first half. Dropping deep. Spinning wide. Driving at defenders. One effort shaved the post. Another forced Walker into a save after a clean counter.

Behind him, Bauer was dominant. Clear headers. Clean blocks. Ogundere stepped in sharply. Ali Ali Smith recycled everything.

Just before the break came the second.

Hippolyte launched a long throw from deep inside our own half. Browne timed his run perfectly, burst through and finished left footed beyond Walker. Calm. Clinical. Fourteen for the season.

Two nil at half time. No fluke about it.

We thought it was three early in the second half. Browne slipped Stevens through. Inch perfect weight. Flag up. Groans. Even the 9yrs Podcast team were yelling for VAR.

It did not matter.

Midway through the half, chaos in their box. Tilley kept the corner alive. Smith saw his effort blocked. The rebound dropped to Stevens who, from point blank range, flicked a backheel into the net.

Audacious. Slightly unnecessary. Entirely welcome.

Three nil. Plough Lane relaxed.

Then the reminder.

Stephen Humphrys found space twenty yards out, dribbled around half the team, and struck one cleanly past Bishop. Three one. Fifteen minutes left.

For a moment Bradford believed. A couple of crosses. One long range effort parried comfortably by Bishop. A faint murmur in the stands.

We steadied. Kept the ball. Took the tempo out.

Three minutes added. No drama.

Job done.

What The Fans Are Saying

The Facebook Group oscillated between “that’s the best we’ve played all season”, “still think we lack a proper Plan B”, and that one fan who still wanted to talk about the fact it was only possible “because Reeves (C) was left on the bench”

Overall mood: satisfied. Not hysterical. Just quietly pleased.

Womble of the Week: Marcus Browne.

Goal. Constant movement. Direct running. Intelligent pressing. He dragged Bradford’s shape all over the pitch in the first half.

His assist that never was deserved to count. His actual goal did count. He looks confident and, more importantly, decisive.

When Browne plays with this freedom, we look dangerous.

Closing Thoughts

Controlled. Measured. Efficient.

We did not panic after conceding. We did not retreat into our own box. We saw the game out like a side that understands League One football.

If we can play like this with consistency we have nothing to fear.

Momentum is not built on chaos. It is built on afternoons like this.

WombleWorld

Wesley Wombleton was unable to attend due to prior commitments, having pre-booked a measured ascent aboard the London Eye. A body double was deployed to Plough Lane for this report. Bradford goalkeeper Sam Walker appeared to have taken a similar approach.

The day of using up what you have before the long fast begins. And what better way to observe this most sacred of traditions than by travelling to the Welsh capital to watch your football club get absolutely flattened by the league leaders, our team, our squad depth spread like batter poured too thin onto a hot pan.

We arrived at the Cardiff City Stadium carrying the optimism of a draw at Barnsley and the naivety of a people who have learned nothing.

This result was payback. We beat them in the Nonsense Trophy earlier in the season and the Bluebirds have been marinating in that grudge like a rarebit sits under a grill. Slowly, resentfully, and with increasing heat.

They are top of the league. We are not top of the league. This result will not define our season. I am saying this calmly. I am fine. Pass the cinnamon sugar. Pass it directly into my eyes.

The Team

Johnnie Jackson named an unchanged XI for the third consecutive game, which felt brave.

In a squad not quite deep enough for relentless rotation, but with some good players still on the bench that is either admirable consistency or a lack of adaptability, depending on your mood and San Miguel intake.

The Match:

The Dons started like men who’d had banana pancakes for breakfast - full of inexplicable tropical energy.

Jack Johnson once sang

“Can’t you see that it’s just raining, there ain’t no need to go outside”

Jack, you’ve clearly never had an away allocation in Cardiff in February. It IS just raining. It is ALWAYS just raining. But we went outside anyway because we are Wimbledon and poor decisions are our love language.

Two minutes in, Callum Febcock saw an effort blocked before Myles Hippolyte fired wide. Another move saw Febcock blocked again. James Tilley and Ali Ali Smith both had efforts dealt with inside five minutes. We were bright. We were busy. We were a pancake that looked golden on one side and was about to be flipped to reveal absolute catastrophe on the other.

Cardiff’s first real chance came through Kellyman. Bishop saved well. The hosts were warming up. The rarebit was beginning to bubble.

And then, inevitably, the cheese melted.

A Cardiff corner Colwill unmarked. First-time strike. 1-0. Colwill nearly had a second minutes later but was ruled offside, which is the footballing equivalent of your second pancake looking better than the first but then you drop it on the floor and have to pretend it didn’t happen.

Former Dons keeper Nathan Trott (a Lent player in the spiritual and footballing sense) punched away our corners with the authority of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.

But then. Seddon whips in a free-kick and Matty Stevens meets it with a side-footed volley. His first league goal since September.

Half-time. 1-1. The game was there for the taking, like a Welsh rarebit left unattended at a buffet. Welsh Rarebit, by the way, is just cheese on toast with ideas above its station. A perfect reflection of Cardiff City. By the way readers are advised this is a view not to be voiced in Cardiff city centre on a Saturday night for your own safety.

The second half started cagily. Ollie Tanner fired wide. And then another corner. Tanner’s delivery found Perry Ng at the near post. Header. 2-1.

Stevens nearly equalised immediately his effort across goal, past Trott, agonisingly wide. The width of a crepe. The width of a dream. The width of whatever separates us from competence at set pieces.

And then, a minute later, Ng turned provider and Tanner turned and buried it. 3-1. Game Over.

Three goals from set pieces and wide positions. We had been flipped, folded, and served with a garnish of defensive negligence and a side of whatever Jack Johnson is selling.

Kellyman sealed it late. 4-1. The full English. Except it’s Welsh. And nobody’s enjoying it.

Five minutes of added time came and went. We kept going til the end. We always do. It’s one of our most endearing and most infuriating traits. Like a man who keeps trying to make banana pancakes in a kitchen that is clearly on fire.

“Cause I love to lay here lazy
We could close the curtains
Pretend like there's no world outside”

Shut up, Jack. You don’t know what cold is.

Closing Thoughts

Crepe. That’s French for pancake AND the noise the travelling fans make when we concede from yet an another corner.

But…Cardiff are top of the league and they are better than us.

We’ve got Bradford at home on Saturday. We’ll dust off the flour, crack some new eggs, and try again.

WombleWorld

Dave Reddington has been working closely with the Plough Lane Aviation Group to ensure any bluebirds spotted within a three-mile radius of the team coach on the return journey are humanely destroyed via a spud gun provided by Terry Skiverton.

Two-nil down after 13 minutes. Level by half-time. Ahead with 15 to go. Pegged back with three minutes left. Six goals. One point. Seven from the last nine. The kind of afternoon that ages you in dog years.

There is a universe in which this was a defeat. There is another in which this was the greatest away comeback since records began. Instead, we got a draw. Which feels like both, simultaneously.

The Team

JJ reverted to the team that beat Reading 3-2 last weekend, quietly binning the seven changes he’d made for the Pointless Trophy quarter-final against Northampton. That midweek defeat has already been filed under “things we don’t talk about.” Like a bad haircut. Or the 2022-23 season.

The Match

0-10 mins: The Bit We’d Rather Forget

Barnsley started like they’d been personally offended by something. They did well on the byline facing up to Tilley, cut it back, and David McGoldrick (a man who has been scoring goals in the Football League since roughly the Jurassic period) finished inside the six-yard box. One-nil.

Then it was two. Three minutes later. Same recipe. McGoldrick down the channel, Cleary in behind, cut back, Tom Bradshaw finishes. Two-nil. The 472 in the away end collectively wondered why they hadn’t just stayed home and stared at a wall.

10-25 mins: The Bugiel Awakening

We, to our credit, did not fold. This was not the Wimbledon team of January 2026.

The equaliser came in two devastating minutes. First, Nkeng’s shot was blocked, the ball broke to Seddon, and his cross found Bugiel. A glancing header, past Goodman, into the bottom corner. His first goal since December. Which was against Cardiff. In a pointless trophy nobody remembers the name of.

Then, two minutes and ten seconds later, Tilley whipped in a cross and Bugiel met it with a stooping header that Goodman could do absolutely nothing about. Two goals. Two headers.

Two-two. From two-nil. In the space of time it takes to boil a kettle. We decided it was time to make fresh cup of Yorkshire Tea.

25-45 mins: Controlled Chaos

Momentum had swung. Johnson and Alistair Smith both had efforts blocked and saved. Wimbledon were on top. Then Barnsley hit the inside of the post through Scott Banks, just to remind everyone that chaos has no loyalty.

Half-time. Two-all. Both managers pretending they planned this.

45-75 mins: The Quiet Middle

Wimbledon started the second half brightly but it was tense, scrappy, professional football. Not glamorous. But that’s ok we don’t do glamorous.

75 mins: The Goal That Should Have Won It

A ball over the top from Hippolyte found Maycock, who took a touch to beat Shepherd and was through on goal. One-on-one with Goodman. History beckoning.

He squared it. Unselfishly, beautifully, across the face of goal. Marcus Browne unmarked, waiting turned it in. His 13th of the season. Three-two Wimbledon.

Away end: scenes. Briefly. Limbs. Momentarily.

87 mins: The Goal That Didn’t

Three minutes from time. Bishop saved. The ball sat up, and Banks put it in. Three-three. The away end fell silent. The home end erupted. The football gods shrugged and went back to whatever it is they do.

Womble of the Week: Omar Bugoal

Two goals. Two headers. From a man who hadn’t scored since December. The first was neat. The second was unstoppable. When Bugiel is in the mood, he is genuinely excellent. The frustration has always been the gaps between moods. Today, there was no gap. Just headers.

Owen Goodman Watch

A brief diversion. Owen Goodman has now faced Wimbledon twice at home this season - once for Huddersfield, once for Barnsley - and conceded three goals both times. This is either a deeply unfortunate statistical coincidence or the universe’s way of punishing him for leaving us for another league one loan or two. Would we have him back over Bishop?

Closing Thoughts

Seven points from three games. That is good. That is what was needed.

But we were a goal up with 15 minutes to go and didn’t win. The defending for both Barnsley goals in the first half was too open, and too passive, And the late equaliser, while heartbreaking, came from a moment of sustained pressure that better game management might have prevented. We have conceded the most goals in the last 15 minutes of the game in the whole league.

None of that should overshadow what was a remarkable comeback. Going two down away from home and fighting back to lead takes character, quality, and something that is hard to coach. This squad has it. Bugiel has it. Browne has it. Maycock, who could have shot but chose to square it, has it.

Cardiff away on Tuesday. League One leaders. A small number of tickets still available from £11, which is roughly what your therapist charges per minute after a match like this.

WombleWorld

Owen Goodman has requested a personal restraining order against Omar Bugiel’s forehead. The tribunal hearing is delayed as they are too busy discussing whether to ban Osman Foyo again for playing backgammon against Craig Cope.

The Team

One change from the midweek at Vale Park. Callum Maycock earned his start. Zack Nelson dropped to the bench. Everything else stayed the same.

The Match

The Dons came out with intent. Actual, visible, recognisable intent. Junior Nkeng causing havoc down the left, pinning Reading back and making their full-back wish he’d called in sick.

Seven minutes in, and we were ahead. Omar Bugiel found Nkeng in space. He drove a shot across Joel Pereira, who parried it straight into the path of Marcus Browne. Tap in. One-nil.

We kept pushing. This was not the cautious, safety-first approach we’ve become accustomed to. This was a team that had remembered attacking was an option.

Reading, to their credit, didn’t fold. Jack Marriott tried his luck with a curling effort that troubled precisely nobody, least of all Nathan Bishop. But the visitors were growing into it, enjoying more possession, creating half-chances while we sat deeper and looked to hit them on the break.

It was coming. And it came. Kamari Doyle found Marriott on the edge of the box and this time the finish was precise. Tight angle. Well taken. 1-1.

The second half started the way the first half had, Wimbledon on the front foot, Reading on the back foot, and Pereira looking increasingly nervous.

A speculative ball in was spilled by the Reading keeper. Spilled. Right into the path of Bugiel. Who laid it on a plate for Browne. Who finished into an empty net.

Two-one. Browne’s second. Pereira’s worst nightmare.

Reading equalised ten minutes later bundling one in from a corner. The kind of goal that makes defenders look at each other and silently agree to never speak of it.

2-2. Here we go again.

Except this time, we didn’t go again. We went forward. Febcock won the ball in midfield, drove forward, and found Browne with a pass that deserved a round of applause on its own. The finish? Brilliant. Hat-trick. Plough Lane erupted.

And Browne wasn’t done creating. A cross that nearly found Nelson at the back post. A general sense of a man who had decided today was his day and everyone else would simply have to deal with it.

3-2. Done. Breathe.

Womble of the Week: Omar Bugiel.

Yes, Browne scored three. We know. Everyone knows.

But Browne doesn’t get those goals without Bugiel. The hold-up play for the first. The composure to set up the second. The thankless, physical, draining work of being the focal point that allowed everything else to happen around him.

Browne was the headline. Bugiel was the article.

Closing Thoughts

Six points in five days. Let that sit for a moment.

After the grind of midweek at Vale Park, there was every reason for this squad to come out flat, go through the motions, and settle for a point. They didn’t. They came out and attacked. They created. They showed variety. Chances came from the left, from the middle, from crosses, from transitions, from moments of individual brilliance and moments of collective pressing.

This was not one-dimensional football. This was a team with ideas.

Browne, when he’s on it, changes everything. But what was equally impressive was how he played for the team. Encouraging others, demanding more, driving standards. That version of Marcus Browne is the one that turns a relegation scrap into a mid-table cruise.

WombleWorld

Joel Pereira spent Saturday evening Googling “how to catch a football.”

Out of nowhere, according to some. A belated response to (fabricated) rumours, according to others.

Whichever version you prefer, this was always going to be a serious meeting at a serious moment. Which means fewer jokes than usual.

For that, we apologise in advance. Normal service will resume shortly.

There was a time when Meet the Board events felt like theatre. Immersive theatre. Like the disaster experience in 2019.

Wednesday night wasn’t that.

This was a grown-up meeting. Questions were answered. Difficult topics weren’t smoothed over. The Club Board continued to step up and take their responsibility seriously. All of them, from the DT representatives, to the minority investors, not forgetting the NEDs, and finally the Chair.

Which will come as a disappointment to anyone who had already packed an emotional go-bag for administration, liquidation, or a surprise investor emerging from behind the south stand.

Here’s what actually happened.

Four things we already knew

1. The losses.

£600k down last year.

Record turnover. Wembley income. Commercial revenue at £1.1m. Hospitality running at around 80 percent of capacity.

And still, unmistakably, red ink.

This was the number everything else orbited. Not always explicitly, but constantly. Every potential decision discussed on makes more sense when you keep that figure in your head. It is the gravity beneath the conversation, pulling every topic slightly off its ideal path.

Context helps, at least emotionally. The average League One club loses around £5m a year.

In that sense, AFC Wimbledon is performing like a financial ascetic in a league of serial arsonists.

But that context doesn’t make the deficit disappear. We are still losing money. Not catastrophically. Not recklessly. But consistently. And that reality framed the entire evening, whether people wanted it to or not.

2. Cash flow tightens in mid-2026.

This is not a revelation and makes sense given the losses.

It has been explained repeatedly, in meetings, statements, and presentations, often by the same people patiently finding new ways to say the same thing.

Bond refinancing. Investor conversations. Revenue growth strategies. All of it points to the same pressure point in the calendar.

It is known. It is being managed.

It is not a secret cliff edge uncovered last week by someone on Facebook who “heard something on a podcast”

3. Michele Little is extremely good at refinancing bonds.

At this point she could probably do it while answering emails and stirring a cup of tea.

The Plough Lane Bond survey came back with reassuring numbers. Not perfect. But workable.

A little under 40 percent want repayment. Just over half are happy to roll over. A small but meaningful minority are willing to gift or convert to equity.

Better than last year. Better than expected.

The plan is straightforward. Reopen PLB to cover the £1.2m repayment requirement, then use any surplus to reduce higher-interest debt. Lower rates. Less bleeding.

It’s not exciting. But it is the kind of quiet competence that keeps clubs alive.

4. Investor conversations are ongoing.

Graeme Price laid out the process clearly. Initial contact handled carefully. Anything meaningful comes back to members.

Angus Fox spoke about one particular group with genuine enthusiasm. Meetings have taken place. Values discussed. Skills explored.

There are no names. No numbers. No deadlines. But there are NDAs.

That’s frustrating, especially for a fanbase who increasingly expect instant updates. But it is also exactly how serious investment conversations work. Anyone promising more than that at this stage probably isn’t worth listening to.

Two things we didn’t know

1. 50+1 is back. Now.

Well, we all knew the vote was coming back.

What we didn’t know was when.

Now we do.

The proposal to allow investment while retaining fan ownership above 50 percent is returning, and it is being bundled with constitutional changes. Because apparently the DTB has decided that if something is going to be difficult, it might as well be maximally difficult.

Last time, the vote was messy. Some members treated it as a referendum on individuals rather than the structure itself. A strategic decision got tangled up in personalities, tone, trust, and grievance. That helped nobody and clarified nothing.

This time feels different. Not calmer. More urgent.

The financial picture is clearer. The options are narrower. The runway is visibly shorter. The idea that we can simply wait another year and revisit this later feels increasingly fictional.

Bundling it with the constitution makes the choice harder, not easier. If you broadly support removing the 15 percent cap to make 50+1 workable, but disagree with specific elements of the new constitution, what are you supposed to do? Hold your nose? Walk away? Vote against something you largely support because you object to the packaging?

That awkwardness is not deliberate. It is the direct consequence of the previous vote failing. Delay always has a cost. This is part of it.

2. Season ticket prices. Up 13 percent.

This one lands hardest in the wallet.

A 13 percent increase is not abstract. It’s not theoretical. It hurts. Especially when your weekly shop already feels like a personal insult and everything else in life has crept up.

The obvious question was asked.

Does this depend on what league we’re in?

The answer was blunt.

“No.”

Ticketing accounts for roughly 30 percent of club income. That is the simple reality. James Woodroof described it as “difficult choices,” which is both accurate and unsatisfying.

It doesn’t make it easier to swallow. But it does explain why it’s happening.

Two things we still don’t know

1. What the regulator actually does for a club like AFC Wimbledon.

Angus was in Parliament last week. Met with the football regulator. Spoke up for fan-owned clubs. Secured a follow-up meeting.

All positive signals.

But “regulator ready” is a slogan, not a plan.

Still unclear.

2. What happens if the 50+1 vote fails again.

Nobody said it out loud on Tuesday night.

Nobody wants to. But it matters.

If the vote doesn’t pass, what then? Is there a Plan B? Or does even asking that question undermine the campaign itself?

The board’s position is consistent. Investment is needed. Fan ownership above 50 percent must be protected. The vote is the mechanism.

But mechanisms fail sometimes. And no one has explained what happens if this one does. Can we survive with our 75+1 model.

Graham said, “voting rights below 75% doesn’t end businesses, lack of cash flow does.”

One final thing.

The Rumours

In the weeks before this meeting, you could have been forgiven for thinking AFC Wimbledon was circling the drain. Administration was mentioned. Takeovers were speculated. The vibes were, to use a technical term, not good.

Some of that was background noise. Social media anxiety spirals. Facebook doom loops. Discord speculation.

But some of it felt more intentional.

Rumours directly leaked to podcasts. Framing designed to generate heat rather than light.

Who spoke? And why? We still don’t know.

There was a time when AFC Wimbledon podcasts positioned themselves as the sensible alternative to fan hysteria. The calm voices. The grown-ups. The ones who checked before they broadcast.

That feels less true at the moment. Rumour presented as journalism just makes everything worse.

Speculation dressed up as concern helps no one.

The board is trying to communicate. Slowly. Imperfectly. Repeatedly.

That job becomes much harder when half the audience has already decided the club is finished before the meeting even starts.

Closing thoughts

This was a pragmatic meeting about difficult realities.

We need more money than we currently generate. That hasn’t changed.

The routes forward are clear enough. Revenue growth. Investor partnerships. Bond refinancing. Eventually, stadium expansion.

What felt different on Tuesday was the tone. Honest without hysteria. Direct without overpromising.

Fan ownership above 50 percent matters.

Cash flow and financial realties also matter.

The next few months will test whether we can hold both ideas in our heads at the same time.

Until then, stay calm.

And maybe wait for the facts before sounding the alarm.

WombleWorld

Craig Cope finished the meeting with some budget left over. First time for everything. WW sources suggest he will be investing in WW+ membership for the whole playing squad

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We won a game of football.

And we did it with two players who, according to the rumour merchants, (👀 🦛🇱🇧) had already packed their bags for pastures new.

The transfer window slammed shut at 7pm on Monday. A mere 24 hours after leaving the club to join relegation rivals Omar Bugiel and Myles Hippolyte started for the Dons anyway.

Chaos agents. Or, more usefully, free misinformation for the Port Vale scouts who’d presumably spent the previous 48 hours preparing for a different starting XI.

Strategic ambiguity. Johnnie Jackson and Craig Cope’s finest work.

The Team

JJ made four changes from the Bolton defeat. Zack Nelson earned his first Dons start. Bugiel, Hippolyte and Junior Nkeng all returned. Reeves ©, Hackford, Febcock and Asiimwe dropped to the bench.

New signing Layton Stewart, the Professor Layton of the forward line, here to solve puzzles and presumably ask “why is our home form like this?”, was not in the squad.

He was, at that moment, somewhere in Switzerland, contemplating flights and presumably still shopping for watches he’d like when his goals keep us up.

The Match

The Dons started brightly. Tilley tested Gauci inside five minutes. Nkeng and Seddon combined well down the left. Browne held off three challenges before his shot was blocked, the ball breaking to Tilley who smashed it into the side netting.

Nelson and Nkeng both had penalty appeals. The referee was unmoved. Goalless at half-time.

Port Vale came out swinging after the break. Set pieces rained in. The Dons defence held. Neither side created anything clear-cut.

With ten minutes left, Ogundere’s cross found Bugiel’s head. Wide.

It looked like a point.

Then, 87th minute. Smith finds Febcock in acres of space. Touch. Finish. Bottom corner.

His first League One goal. The away end loses its mind. Four minutes added. The Dons hold on.

Three points. A late winner. The travelling 121 rewarded for their faith, their layers, and their commitment to public transport when fixtures are hastily rearranged. They deserved this.

What the Manager Said

On the victory:

“You can’t really beat a late winner, can you?”

For the record we are happy with winning goals in any minute of the game.

On MayFebcock:

“He’s got that. He’s shown that before. Obviously, he scored two really famous goals.”

He did not elaborate on which goals. We assume he means the ones people remember against Franchise.

On Reeves © being benched:

“He’s the captain and the leader of this team... He was excellent in the support he gave his teammates. He led from behind.”

Leadership from the bench. Tactical maturity. JJ actually doing some squad rotation like it’s a genuine concept and not just something managers tell their kids about in fairy stories.

On Layton Stewart:

“I think he’s travelling tomorrow morning. We won’t get back to London until probably early hours. He’ll be in training with the boys on Thursday.”

A point to prove. A plane to catch. A puzzle to solve.

Womble of the Week: Callum MayFebcock.

You don’t score a late winner away from home in the snow and not get this. Fresh off the bench. Calm in the box. Clinical with the finish.

His first League One goal. Hopefully not his last.

Closing Thoughts

This was not a vintage performance. It didn’t need to be.

We defended well, pressed from the front, and took our moment when it arrived.

In a season that has often felt like two steps forward and three steps sideways, and two steps backward this was simple. This was effective. This was away points.

Now comes the hard part.

Saturday. Plough Lane. Reading. The home form that dare not speak its name.

If we can carry this momentum, the defensive solidity, the late threat, the belief that games can be won, then maybe, just maybe, we will have a shot on target at home and possibly - a home goal.

Layton Stewart might get his debut. The Professor might provide answers. The home fans might witness something resembling attacking intent.

Hopefully February will be kinder than January.

WombleWorld

Callum Maycock has trademarked the phrase “popping up in that little pocket” and will be licensing it to JJ for future press conferences to raise money for WAWF.

This is becoming a familiar paragraph.

The Team

Johnnie Jackson made four changes from the Rotherham draw. James Tilley got his first start since his last start. Hackford, Jancock and Asiimwe also came back in. Stevens, Bauer, Hippolyte and Nkeng dropped to the bench.

The shape was the usual 3-4-3. Or 3-5-2. Or 5-2-3. Depending on which moment you looked and how many San Miguels you’d had to drink.

The Match

We started brightly. Or perhaps that was the sun in our eyes. Jancock won the ball high, drove into the box, found space. His cross was just too high for Hackford. It was the kind of chance that, in a different timeline, opens the scoring and changes the entire complexion of the afternoon.

This was not that timeline.

Bolton scored on 12 minutes. A counter-attack. Blackett-Taylor finished past Bishop. It was sharp. It was clinical. It was exactly the kind of goal we don’t score.

The rest of the first half was Bolton looking dangerous on the break while we looked… present. Bolton had chances. Bishop made saves. Then a one-on-one after a defensive mix-up Bishop was there again.

Half-time: one down. Lots to think about.

The second half was different. Tilley switched flanks. Nkeng came on. Asiimwe went off, We pushed. We pressed. We created.

Browne dragged one wide. Maycock flicked to Smith who couldn’t direct it on target. Tilley had a fierce strike blocked. Browne couldn’t capitalise on a Bolton error. Seddon found space in the box from a corner.

Chances. Moments. Nothing to show for any of them. Not even a shot on target.

The whistle went. Bolton took all three points. We took the moral high ground, which is worth precisely zero in the League One table.

What the Manager Said:

JJ was positive. JJ is always positive. This is his blessing and, sometimes, his curse.

“I think we’re really unlucky to not come away with anything… the second half performance was probably up there with as good as we played all season.”

He’s not wrong. But being good enough to deserve a point and actually getting a point are two different things. Only one of them affects your league position.

The tactical tweak at half-time, Tilley switching to the right and Nkeng coming on to cause problems on the left, worked. The threat was reduced. The balance improved. But we still didn’t score.

“If we play like that, week in, week out… we’ll pick up a lot of points.”

If.

The Bigger Picture

Let’s be honest. We’re slipping. Towards the bottom four. And we have been ever since we missed the chance to go top in October. We are now in February.

The players are trying. You could see it today. Reeves © ran more than he has in weeks, trying to gee the team up, pressing from the front. But when he presses, others need to press with him. One man’s intensity without collective follow-through is just energy wasted.

We don’t play badly. That’s the frustrating part. We lack cutting edge. We lack the moment of quality that turns a promising attack into a goal. We lack the spark.

The predictability is the killer. Same patterns. Same build-up. Same outcomes. Bolton knew what was coming. Everyone knows what’s coming.

We got to League One through the play-offs last year. We always expected to be a yo-yo club, bouncing between divisions until the finances stabilise. That’s the reality of being fan-owned with a limited budget and a stadium that still needs finishing.

But we can’t go down with a whimper.

We need something. A forward who can unlock a defence. A moment of unpredictability. A spark.

Maybe it comes from the transfer window, closing on Monday. Though hopefully not via Aneke, one ex-franchise is more than enough for one season thanks. Maybe it comes from Osman Foyo, finally returning from his cruelly extended ban. Someone. Something.

Because right now, we’re playing well enough to stay up. We’re just not scoring enough to prove it.

Wombles of the Week: Us, the fans

Two home goals since October. One shot on target in 180 minutes of football. A 12:30 kick-off on a Saturday in January because Sky Sports are annoying.

7,733 home fans turned up anyway. They watched. They hoped. They went home disappointed. Again.

The least we deserve is acknowledgment.

Closing Thoughts

Port Vale away on Tuesday. Three days to recover, regroup, and try again. Don’t forget the early kick-off.

The second-half performance offers something to build on. The first-half performance offers something to learn from. The result offers nothing except a reminder that football doesn’t care about deserving.

WombleWorld

Johnnie Jackson has confirmed he will “show back all the good stuff” on Monday. The bad stuff will be stored in a locked filing cabinet in Craig Cope’s office, never to be spoken of again.

A week on from the sucker punch at home to Doncaster, we headed to Rotherham hoping for a response. We got one. Eventually. After a bit of weathering, a bit of wobble, and one properly decent cross.

The team

Two changes from the Doncaster defeat. Patrick Bauer came in for the suspended Joe Lewis, while Myles Hippolyte replaced Callum Jancock. Sensible. Functional. No drama.

Junior Nkeng kept his place after another encouraging showing last time out. At this point, he is not just “one for the future.” He is one for right now.

The match

Rotherham started like a side that had been told to make it uncomfortable. High press. Early corners. A lot of balls into areas where you have to make decisions quickly.

Nathan Bishop made those decisions. Calmly. Early saves kept things level while we found our feet. Not spectacular. Just reliable. He needed that. We needed that.

Nkeng was our outlet. Again. He carried the ball, took people on, and looked like someone who had decided he was not here to make up the numbers.

Chances were scarce. Effort was not. The game had that feel of two sides cancelling each other out while quietly waiting for someone else to blink.

Did Rotherham blink in the second half? Not quite.

They came out fast again and this time they made it count. A throw-in. A bit of space. Kaleta wriggled free and Zak Jules was left unmarked six yards out. One nil. Too easy.

For a while, it looked like that might be that. We looked stretched without quite looking broken.

Then the subs came. Four (4) of them. A roll of the dice from Johnnie Jackson that said “if we are going to lose you are not going to blame it on my substitutions strategy being too timid.” Tilley made his second debut, and Nelson his first. New blood badly needed.

And it worked.

Ten minutes from time, Steve Seddon delivered a proper cross. First time. Dangerous. Marcus Browne headed home. Simple football. The kind we sometimes forget exists, when we are too focused on utilising Reeves (C) as our sideways and backwards pivot.

The last few minutes were chaos-adjacent. Crosses flashed. Counters fizzled. Nine minutes of added time arrived, which felt unnecessary.

Nobody found a winner. Probably fair.

What the fans are saying

WUP ranged from “good point away” to “why do we always make life harder than it needs to be” and on to “sack the board”

Wombles Had a Dream spent most of the game by the bar asking fellow away fans if they had heard any more rumours they can add to their podcast. For those interested: here is the latest that we beat them to sharing.

The 9 Years team were feeling philosophical after the game - wondering out loud if its possible to be “a good club in a bad world”. If anyone knows what that actually means please let us know.

Womble of the Week: Junior Nkeng.

Again.

He gave us an out ball. He gave us energy. He gave Rotherham something to think about. For a young player still learning the level, he looks remarkably comfortable being a problem for defenders.

Not perfect. But fearless. We like fearless.

Closing thoughts

A point away at Rotherham is not to be sniffed at despite their league position and form. Especially after last week. But it does leave that familiar feeling that we are always one gear short of making things comfortable.

Still, we responded. We changed it. We did not fold. This team will generally fight when needed, which can on occasions make up for a lack of skill and creativity.

On to Port Vale. Quickly. And we hate to say it but it feels like a “must win”. We need 6 more victories in league to secure safety, and against the team marooned in 24th place is the perfect place to start.

WombleWorld

Robin Bedford has already started folding the away kit while quietly muttering about how many socks you actually need for a Tuesday night in Port Value.

Over the past 24 hours, WombleWorld has become aware of a series of extremely concerning developments in and around AFC Wimbledon. These have not been confirmed. They have not been denied. And crucially, no one has told us they are ridiculous.

Below is a summary of the most serious rumours currently circulating. We are publishing them in the interests of transparency, accountability, and because someone has to say something. We all know that the best thing to do with rumours is to spread them, so here are the….

Latest Unconfirmed Factual Rumours

👀 Wombles Had A Dream podcast have been forced to cut costs on recording equipment after losing access to their Great Aunt’s Nectar card. We understand that they are actively exploring other loyalty schemes with a matter of urgency.

👀 The club is also experiencing wider financial difficulties as communicated to fans in multiple updates over the last 12 months but this is further evidenced the following intel from a WombleWorld Insider

👀 Scarves in the club shop have been shortened by 9% as part of a quiet cost-saving initiative. The price remains the same. This is clear evidence of scarfflation.

👀 Robin Bedford has been instructed to purchase washing liquid from Lidl across the road, ending a long-standing reliance on premium detergents.

👀 San Miguel at Plough Lane has been watered down, and now reportedly tastes like beer-flavoured water.

👀 A mysterious New Board calling themselves the “Robust Oversight Board” (ROB) is now flapping above above the PLC. It consists of Mark Robinson, Robin Bedford and Christopher Robin, operating in secret, insisting that we offer bond holders an early bird repayment schedule on the condition that they reinvest via seed funding into Plough Lane Bonus 3.

👀 Romesh Ranganathan has been outed as the mystery minority investor after he admitted having a two headed eagle tattooed on his arm. Apparently he also has a tattoo of Richard Pryor which will really push Craig Cope’s recruitment strategies to new lengths.

Our Demand

Taken together, these rumours point to a system under pressure.

We therefore demand:

• Immediate Statements from all involved at Wombles Had a Dream Podcast over the ongoing viability of funding a podcast from a dwindling account of Nectar Points

• Urgent clarifications from the Club Shop about the length of scarves

• Confirmation from the DTB that they are seriously going to debate considering creating a working group to review their policy on statements at their next scheduled Board meeting.

• and finally an FAQ relating to Romesh’s tattoo. If we can hear directly from Romesh too that will help settle matters.

Until then, WombleWorld will act responsibly by treating these rumours as established fact and ensuring they are widely shared on social media, causing minor panic among the fanbase while also boosting our engagement metrics.

WombleWorld

We also heard a rumour that our next home kit will be blue, with a bit of yellow on it. As this could not be verified we decided not to print it.