In her speech of Christmas Day 1992, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, described the year as an annus horribilis.
(That translates as ‘horrible year’. I say that for the sake of all of us Janners who didn’t do Latin at school. I guess there are a few phrases we might know, like ‘Semper Fidelis’, of course, but that one may be unique among Latin phrases we are aware of. Per se.)
You can see why she thought it. It was a tricky old year for her. The marriages of three of her offspring failed, Windsor Castle went on fire, and David Speedie scored a hat-trick at Home Park to send the Greens down. Enough to depress anyone.
2025 has been a strange old year, though, hasn’t it, Pilgrims? 364 days ago, we were getting humbled at Coventry City and, after a defeat at Oxford United, that was the end of our Head Coach at the time.
It still takes a little bit of processing that England’s most-capped outfield player, a man so literally world famous that his life came with a backing track of people warbling his surname, was our gaffer. Wayne Rooney was a pretty decent bloke, really, but it didn’t work out for him, which is a genuine shame.
That is essentially the prologue; we began 1 January, 2025, with a game against Bristol City, with no permanent boss, and an unexpected duo in the dugout.
I told Kevin Nancekivell quite recently that, frankly, I don’t want to have to send him the text, or a variation of it, that I have sent way too often in the last couple of years. It reads, in essence: ‘Good luck, Nance. Anything you need, just shout. We’re all behind you.’
The point is less that we are - all of us - always there behind him, but that he is always there to lead us when we need him. This time, to his side, was the skipper, Joe Edwards, imbued with a great many of the same steadfast qualities as Our Nance.
We had a draw against Bristol City, with a last-minute Julio Pleguezuelo equaliser that meant a great deal to all, and to him in particular. Then, at Stoke, the kind of 0-0 on the road that if you were served it on a regular basis would make you jack in football forever but, on that day, in that moment, it was just what we needed.
And then Brentford. What a day that was. I think I wrote at the time that I had scarcely ever been so happy for another human being. Nance was every single one of us when he let out that primal scream of delight, heading towards an away end that had not seen an away win in over nine torturous months.
I’m not saying that particular gestation period was worth it, but that was such a rewarding day. There were other big cup days to come, but Brentford remains my favourite.
On the morning of that game, I met a man named Miron Muslic for the first time, and it was an impressive first encounter. A few days later, he gave a speech that took place inside the press conference/analysis room at Home Park Stadium, but it resonated far beyond our walls.
This was a different character to any we had met before. His confidence and charisma were to the fore, but it is very possible that he was surprised by the fact that Argyle won none of his first three games, losing the third one 5-0 to Burnley – and it was 5-0 at half-time, don’t forget.
The reaction was swift, however. A 2-2 draw at promotion-bound Sunderland, the arrivals of around 13 feet of central defender in Maksym Talovierov and Nikola Katic, and then a 2-1 win against West Bromwich Albion led to more FA Cup action.
And so it was, that the team bottom of the Sky Bet Championship, and who would be destined to drop to tier three eight weeks later, beat the team top of the Premier League, about to claim their 20th title. Football, eh? What it does to you.
Argyle 1-0 Liverpool. Hardie from the spot, Sorinola blocking Luis Diaz, and Conor Hazard catching more than a trawler with a reduced immune system. What a day.
Three days later, the 5-1 demolition of Millwall was a cracking night too, and although late April and early May would bring misery, those days, that week, can still be cherished.
There was also the unbridled joy of taking the lead at the Etihad, and Manchester City having to dig deep to progress, but some might say these oases were getting further apart as the desert grew around Argyle, and the season started to slide away.
There was late resistance – between the middle of March and the end of April, Argyle won five in nine – but the miracle couldn’t be done. Miron, in his own words, was broken. Argyle, in no uncertain terms, were down.
The circumstances in which it happened were exceedingly odd. Argyle were all set to try to win at Preston North End to keep hopes alive, but Luton managed to beat Coventry earlier that day, in a game that had two bizarre red cards, and an 89th-minute Hatters winner that dribbled over the line and condemned Argyle to relegation.
Luton was the early game, so all this happened while the Greens were preparing to kick off at Deepdale. It was a strange feeling to be relegated during a warm-up.
Do you know what I mean when I say that all of the above feels like yesterday, and yet like forever ago?
The summer had its upheavals too, of course. I can picture exactly where I was, out walking on a secluded public footpath in mid-Devon, on a day off, when I got a phone call saying that Muslic was leaving.
(To his credit, a short time later, I got another call, this time from Miron himself, saying ‘thank you’ for everything, and other niceties. I wasn’t the only one he called. It was genuine, and appreciated.)
The change in head coach was another blow to the solar plexus; the process of waiting, nervously, to see who the new incumbent is going to be, is a little tiring, I find. However, I recall at the time thinking that, when I heard Tom Cleverley’s name in the frame, that it would be a good option. And I still do. Very much so.
The second half of the year has been all about arrivals, re-arrivals and revivals.
David Fox returned to the club, now behind a desk rather than in front of a back four; a large number of players departed, and a similar tally joined us; the Argyle Women’s team had a upheaval, with Marie Hourihan joining as Head Coach, recruitment swooping for top players at other clubs at our level, and it paying dividends, with the team second in the league as 2025 ends; and Derek Adams has landed back at Home Park, this time as Director of Football, six-and-a-half years after leaving the club.
That’s a lot of info on May-to-December condensed into one paragraph, but let’s continue with the brevity, shall we, and break down the season so far, month-by-month. Basically…
August: poor
September: terrific
October: alarming
November: pretty awful
December: cracking (so far)
It has been difficult to keep up with emotions, in some ways. How did you feel after winning at Burton, considering the slow start? Was that the first corner turn? There have been so many alleged corner-turns, for good and for bad, that the narrative is starting to look like a poorly constructed Scalextric set (there have been a few of them on Christmas Days in my life, I can tell you that). If you believe that, 2023/24 is starting to look like a veritable Watling Street compared to the last 11-and-a-bit months.
I’m not sure it is always about corners, though. The better metaphor is the journey from A to B, still relatively single-directional, but with bumps in the road; with peaks and troughs.
And a lot of it is perception. Sometimes you have the heat haze on the road, and it seems better than it is, and other times a lack of scenery can make the desolate road look bleak.
The context is the results. Did the vision clear when we beat Rotherham at home recently? I’m not sure we played any better or worse that day than we did against Bradford, but the difference is that Joe Ralls took a chance on one of those days, and on the other we failed to do so, but a penalty decision went against us.
Ah, but then there was Doncaster. I am aware that the metaphor is at breaking – or at least bending – point now, but it was surely the best stretch of the drive so far. Not only did the residual traffic clear, but it was like driving on one of those bits of road where they have recently asphalted, making the frustrating multi-mile diversions because of late-night roadworks (and let’s face it, that’s Exeter away) all worth it.
The game against Wycombe on Monday is our 23rd of the league season. Halfway. We still have the return journey, and a lot of travelling to do. But Christmas is always as good a time as any for reflection, and the New Year is booked in as a point for optimism and belief, if we are resolute about our resolutions.
We all have our Christmas traditions. For many of us, it will be nice to renew being at Home Park on Boxing Day, something we have been starved of, of late. You will have others – the darts, the horse racing, a family walk, arguing over a game of Articulate, watching Bond films.
Ah, but who needs Bond? We’ve got Double-O, getting to seven for the season, playing up front with the sharpshooting Man With the Golden Bun, banishing the notion that you only score twice.
Doncaster away was that moment where the sat-nav suddenly tells you that the potential contraflow ahead has cleared, and progress can be made. The destination is still a way away, and there is plenty more potential for diversions, setbacks, roadblocks.
Or - because sometimes it does happen – maybe the road can be clear, as long as the driving is sensible. This is Argyle, so expect the scenic route, but it is worth believing the destination is worth it, and obtainable.
Are we there yet? No. But here’s to 2026 being the year where the course of our journey is a little smoother.
Have a Green and Merry Christmas. See you on Boxing Day.
