Within the context of where this club has been, these are truly minor and ridiculously transitory niggles.
Even if I live to be a hundred, I will always recall the home game against Telford in October 2014 as the day I thought my club was clinically dead. I arrived at the ground at around 2.15pm, and the turnstiles were still not open. A roll of tumbleweed blew down the street and into the waters of Sincil Drain. Somewhere in the middle distance, a bell tolled. I sat on the wall outside the Co-op Stand and it was a full five minutes before the next condemned man in red and white crept hesitantly up to witness the impending fiesta of football.
Eventually the turnstiles opened and were beseiged by at least three fans, two of whom were there out of sheer obligation and one of whom thought it was PlayZone. City won a dismal match of non-football 2-0 with late goals by Newton and Tomlinson, but that is purely for the black-and-white record books (mine in particular). The atmosphere before, during and after the game was...dead. I left in the certain knowledge that I would never see my club in the Football League again, and drove a lonely six hours back to Scotland. I thought of Gary Simpson and considered driving into a ditch at the side of the A1 as the better option.
Liam, I appreciate that particular game has changed, and I certainly admire your desire to fine-tune the matchday experience. With 9,000+ descending on Sincil Bank every fortnight, it is important to do so for the future of the club. But please do not feel the need to apologise for delivering a facility and a service that is far and away beyond what any of us ever believed possible. I am constantly rendered speechless by what I see when I arrive at Sincil Bank now. This is the stuff of all of our dreams.
Should you encounter anyone complaining about anything, you have my full permission to shoot them.