This article was originally written on our forum by a member apologising to an old friend in football and saying goodbye. It's about how they came to the club being at the other end of the country, the friendships it gifted them and the painful acceptance that now, for them, it's over. 

The rest of the thread is readable below the article and contains some really heart wrenching accounts of what Rovers means to people, the feelings people have for the club and how the current, slow and trudging decline of the club has affected them. 

This is difficult to write. But something I have found sad on here over the years has been seeing so many posters I've enjoyed reading just disappearing. So I thought I'd say farewell, for now.

Back in 1992, an elderly couple moved down from Blackburn into a semi-detached house across the road on our Somerset council estate. Being a horrible little teenager, I harassed them early on, with casual games of knock-knock-ginger. Once, they caught me at the door and “invited” me in for a chat. I suspected this might involve a blow to the head and a call to the police but, intrigued by their ‘strange’ accents, remembering my mum had the only landline in the street, and being a bit bored, anyway, I sheepishly went in. Anne made us all a cup of tea, while Doug and I sat in silence in big old armchairs in their cold living room. Out of the blue, Doug asked me if I liked football. Within 30 minutes we were onto our second cuppa and Doug was regaling me with stories of a club I knew nothing about – Blackburn Rovers – and his watching them through the 1960s and 70s. He showed me black and white collection cards of Bryan Douglas and Ronnie Clayton and he assured me, with a white-moustached smile, "the Rovers are on their way back; just you wait and see”.

Doug and I met up most Saturdays, to read the sports pages of the papers and to consider the Rovers’ chances in the afternoon’s game. Before I even knew it, Blackburn Rovers was my team, my club. A million miles away from me and my home, yet just across the road. In the next few years, supporting the Rovers gave me some of my happiest life memories, whilst dealing with the stresses of school, gangs, and adolescence. I clung to the Rovers, as a representation of hope and aspiration.

When Doug died in the late 1990s, I was already a big Rovers fan in my own right, despite never having been anywhere near Ewood Park. At nights, I dreamt of having the chance to be there, and during the day I knew I had to stick with the club, come what may, for Doug, as well as for myself.

Well, I have tried, Doug. I’ve given it a really good go, and I hope you wouldn’t be too saddened that I can’t keep it up, now. I suspect it would be nothing next to your sadness for what has become of your Rovers.

The truth is, for me the excitement of Rovers has gone, the enjoyment of our games has gone. But most of all, the 'hope' is gone. This club is no longer one Doug would recognise, and nor do I. It brings me only sadness rather than any fun, pleasure, or aspiration. Rainy drives to games at Ewood Park have left me with a deflated feeling – amplified by the stress of wondering if that game will even start/finish.

My wife asked me yesterday, after I had attended a different club’s match, successfully seeking something a bit more fun, why am I still following Rovers? What do I get out of it in return for my time, energy, money? What is the point if there is no expectation of things getting any better? Why would I travel 500-mile round trips in the hope of maybe seeing a couple of shots on target? She seemed genuinely sad and frustrated for me and at how this all makes me feel and behave. For the first time (we’ve had similar conversations before), I just responded with “I don’t know. I don’t really want to, anymore.”

So, with that, I now, sadly, withdraw my support for this previously great club – one that I have loved for 33 years, and always will, deep down, but which is now just the cause of unhappiness for me. I don’t know how many future seasons of football I will get to see, but I do know I don’t want them to be spent with bleakness and anger towards something that should, on some level/s make me happy.

I will remain registered on BRFCS, a place that is brilliantly run and has represented a rare place of ‘safety’ for me to share views about what has been the absolute destruction of what many of us, and those before us, were able to enjoy and love. But I’ll only really be looking out for Venkys leaving, and consequent hope that the great Blackburn Rovers can be reborn.

Until then, being a Rovers fan, for me, is no longer a place for happiness. The club has become a symbol of decline and disappointment, and I choose, painfully, not to have that in my life.

Thank you all for being interesting to interact with. Of course, each one of us behind a username is a person, with a story of our own. So, keep being kind. Take care.