There’s no real good way of telling people about the kind of result that happened on Tuesday night.

The Dons were at home, against a beatable team, in a competition that offered their most realistic chance at silverware. They went up 2-0 in less than half an hour. This should have been our evening.

Should have.

You know what happened. We gave up one before half-time, and then in the second half conceded the equaliser and then the game-winner in the span of three minutes.

And then it was over. Just like that.

Ardley's mixed emotions after AFC Wimbledon are dumped out of the Johnstone's Paint Trophy

I’ve talked previously about staying positive and taking the long view with this club. I meant it then, and I still mean it.

But nights like Tuesday can try even the stoutest among us.

Losses like this can be so demoralising it can be hard to even talk about.

You go home to your family, you go to work the next day, you pass people you know in the streets, and they ask you how it went.

And, well. What do you say?

How do process something like that?

And that’s just me speaking as a fan. Imagine being in the dressing room.

It’s such a small and stupid game. Such a forgettable game, in the grand scheme of things.

None of us will remember what happened here in 50 years. Wimbledon will bounce back— they’ll find their footing in the league, we’ll try and build a good run in the FA Cup when it’s our turn, the stadium business will get sorted. Everything will be fine.

But for now, right now, this hurts.