Well, that didn't last long.

Bristol Rovers have finally pulled the trigger on Ingo Calderon, ending his brief and utterly disastrous tenure at the Memorial Stadium. The axe fell less than 24 hours after teh final whistle of their League One campaign – a campaign that ended with the club tumbling into League Two after an absolutely horrific run.

God. One point from ten games. ONE.

December's "Saviour" Becomes May's Casualty

I was actually at the Memorial Stadium back in December when Calderon was unveiled with all the usual fanfare. Remember how the chairman was practically beaming? My mate Dave (lifelong Gashead) texted me that night: "This is our guy. Spanish flair coming to Bristol!" Poor Dave. He's probably drowning his sorrows at The Wellington right now.

The 43-year-old Spaniard signed what was supposed to be a two-and-a-half-year deal. He barely made it five months.

What went wrong? Everything, basically. The collapse was spectacular – like watching someone drive slowly into a ditch while insisting they know exactly where they're going.

When Hope Dies in Slow Motion

I spent £75 on a ticket and train fare to watch them against Cambridge back in February. That win felt like it might be a turning point. Narrator: it wasn't.

The club's statement was predictably corporate: "Bristol Rovers can confirm that Inigo Calderon has departed his position as Men's first team Head Coach. Miguel Llera, who has been assisting in the coaching department since March, has also left the Club."

Translation: We're clearing house after this absolute shambles.

The Departed's Last Words

Calderon, to his credit, released a gracious statement that makes me feel almost bad for the guy. Almost.

"It has been a true honour and pleasure to have been part of this great club, obviously without the results I would have liked and that this club deserves," he wrote, presumably while packing his office into cardboard boxes.

He went on to list his cherished memories: "Boxing Day at Exeter, the first home game on New Year's Day, my family celebrating from the stands, the first win at Cambridge..." Notice how all these memories are from the first month or so? That's because everything after February was an unmitigated disaster.

Where Do The Gas Go From Here?

The search for a replacement is already underway. My sources at the club (okay, the guy who runs the pie stand, but he knows things) suggests they're looking at a couple of League Two veterans who've orchestrated promotions before.

Whoever takes over inherits a squad with shattered confidence and a fanbase that's equal parts angry and heartbroken. Not exactly the dream job, is it?

I watched their final home game of the season last week... the atmosphere was like a ghost at a funeral – present but deeply uncomfortable. Some fans had already stopped coming. Others stayed to the bitter end, singing defiantly even as their club slipped into the abyss.

That's football for you.

The Gasheads deserve better. They're some of the most loyal supporters in the lower leagues – I've seen them travel 5 hours on a Tuesday night to watch their team lose 3-0 and still sing all the way home.

This story's still developing... I'll update when I hear who's brave (or foolish) enough to take on the rebuilding job.