The Premier League? What might be next are a lot of things we won't like. Gradually, then suddenly, Leeds United could change. But for two weeks we have a club with no stress and a team that, when there is no stress, wins 6-0 and makes us happy. It only becomes a moment when it's over.
On and off the pitch, in Oxford and Leeds and beyond, the club had to spend another weekend defending its reputation.
"There are players miles better than me who’ve never won anything," Barry Douglas once said. But that he won so much was down to resilience forged in his youth and an open mind to his career and his life.
We could have kept all the clean sheets we liked, won all the games we wanted, but never without feeling that hot breath on our necks, stale grease and rancid butter. Until this weekend.
The world's best footballer was coming to Leeds, after getting lost in Bradford. United's one chance, everyone thought, was to fight flair with flair, Cruyff with McKenzie.
There's still plenty of time for Leeds to throw this season away, but this is also the time for them to gather their resources, review what and who works under pressure, and just bang it long to Bamford when required.
Few footballers combine the skills of Wilf Gnonto with the body of John Pearson. You pays your money and takes your shortarses, and wager that you'll meet few enough shithouse teams and get enough points off them.
At some point we have to factor in that these two seasons, dissatisfying as they might feel now or ultimately become, have been once-every-twenty-season experiences, twice.
With his experience and reputation, Bannan was in some ways the perfect player to step in if the midfield needed refreshing during the season's final weeks. But maybe the new Xavi was not what was needed.
Football is ninety minutes of striving for joy and, given the odds, winning is so rare that to demand it of the participants would be foolish of me and unfair on them.