When we lost to Arsenal in 2012, in my heart of hearts I had given up. There were six matches still to be played. I dragged myself along to the ground morosely, out of a sense of duty to the team that had given me such a wonderful season. We beat West Brom, the rags lost to Wigan that evening. And the flame that was flickering in the wind, on the point of going out, roared up again.
Eighteen matches have been played (seventeen by us). Thirty eight have to be played. Sixty points are in the balance. Sixty.
Anybody giving up at this point or for a long time to come probably needs therapy. Although they'll probably come on here, because it's a cheap form of therapy.