It's Paul over

FORGIVE me Gasheads for I have sinned. It has been almost a month since my last blog entry.
To be honest, I feared I was losing my faith.
Having been convinced that Paul Buckle and the board were going to take us to the promised land, it was soul-destroying to see us once again slump into the pergatory that is a relegation dogfight.
What's more, being on the Memorial Ground terraces was like witnessing the last days of Soddom and Gommorah.
It was a painful experience, with Gashead pitted against Gashead, and a wailing and gnashing of teeth that could be heard all the way down the Muller Road and back at Eastville.
And that was even before kick off.
As the Christmas period approached I was still full of confidence that we would be able to reverse the worrying decline in our fortunes over the previous few months.
Ok, we got a rude awakening at Gillingham - losing 4-1 after encouraging draws with promotion chasers Southend and Swindon - but I' never expect us to get anything against the Kent club.
I hate them. We've NEVER really had a good record there. It's a thankless journey to the end of the earth that normally results in no points, no encouragement and a depressing coach journey home.
But Plymouth on Boxing Day, another home game against Crewe on New Year's Eve, followed by a trip to Barnet on the Monday really encouraged the promised revival.
So it was I headed off to the Mem for a high noon kick off against seemingly doomed Plymouth, having been unable to see Rovers due to work commitments apart from our FA Cup moment in the spotlight, beating non-league Totten 6-1 on TV.
First off, I must say I was surprised at the negativity pervading the terraces even before kick off.
I might have expected a modicum of Xmas cheer to be shared with players and manager before kick off but from my place on the Uplands Terrace all I could hear was a diatribe of negativity from those around me. And it didn't improve even though we were 2-0 up at the break and - I thought - playing some decent football.
What happened after half time was nothing short of scandalous, though. It was as if a different team had taken the pitch and the lack of drive, effort and professionalism from certain players shocked me.
Here was a chance to kick on, to get the Xmas period off to a cracking start and launch ourselves on the quest for nine points from three games and a belated chance to challenge at the top end of the table.
But whatever those players had been told by the manager, whether they weren't fit enough to cope with the heavy pitch or whether they could physically FEEL the vibe of those who just wanted the manager out, it is difficult to tell.
Plymouth, who had looked toothless in the first half, got one goal back and their fans were suddenly in full voice while ours were perplexed, bemused and silent.
It was a situation crying out for a manager to make some decisive decisions, to ring the changes, switch tactics and inspire us to complete what should have been a routine victory.
But Paul Buckle remained routed to the bench, like a rabbit caught in headlights, unable to decide what his next move was.
And inevitably Plymouth equalised, then struck the winner in the last minute of injury time.
Of course, to a great many on the terraces it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. The boos rang out and the chants of "We Want Buckle Out" quickly followed.
And although I have been pushing for him to be given more time to get it right, I knew at that moment he would never win them back.
He should have gone then. But the board dithered and dallied.
The next result - a 5-2 home defeat by Crewe - proved that even the players had lost faith in him.
The 2-0 loss at Barnet was just the final nail in his coffin.
Finally, the directors moved to remove him from the post. Some might say it was a move of compassion, because the kind of abuse he was being subjected to was becoming beyond the pail.
We have always been a resilient lot, but I've never known a manager split the faithful in the way the former Torquay boss had done - in such a short space of time, too.
It made for a horrible atmosphere on the terraces and at the ground.
Rumours of Buckle calling Bristolians a four-letter word in the dressing room after one particular defeat, and his public proclamation that they should lower their already pretty low expectations were contributory factors to turning them against him.
And so we sack a third manager in 12 months. If you include caretakers Darren Patterson and Stuart Campbell, the next man will be the sixth at the helm in that time.
It worries me because it is the classic recipe for a club in meltdown and heading out of the Football League.
I hope I am wrong. I hope the next appointment is someone who can truly re-unite the fans, with the tactical nous to save us from the dreaded drop.
It's calling out for a wise old head, someone who has found themselves in similar situations, kept their cool and done the necessary.
I don't care if it is ugly, dirty, grinding - as long as it is enough to keep us up.
There are a few candidates: Gary Johnson, the ex-City boss, would be the worst choice in my book. Too many Gasheads hate him already. His last two clubs, Peterborough and Northampton, had a habit of conceding a torrent of goals, something which we are all too familiar with at the moment.
Sean O'Driscoll would inspire the pretty football Rovers fans crave, but can we afford to work at playing that way on heavy winter pitches where we are required to scrape and scrap for every point?
Iain Dowie hasn't been a success at his last few clubs, but what he did at Crystal Palace, taking them from the bottom three to Premier League promotion is difficult to forget.
But I like the sound of Keith Curle. Ex-Gashead, tough reputation, knows about defensive organisation and has spent time under the wise tutelage of Neil Warnock. He certainly isn't afraid of winning ugly and has been around a long time.
Before then, though, we will have Buckle's assistant Shaun North in charge for Saturday's big FA Cup third-round clash with Aston Villa. It's a nice distraction after such a horrible few weeks.
And at least we'll all be united for that one...