Well that's it. Thank heavens, I can forget about football until August.
We can argue that Yann Kermogant handballed before Tomas Kalas - I thought it could have been a push. I was hoping he could chip a Leicester repeat for us, but he showed tremendous composure to stick in the bottom corner.
We could also argue that if Marcus Bettinelli had managed to outmuscle Chris Martin for that last minute header he could have done a much better job of putting it away. But then we are probably clutching at straws.
I enjoyed watching John Swift I think he will make a fine player. How he missed that goal in the second half, heaven only knows. I could see Bettinelli didn't know much about it.
What did please me was that Fulham kept attacking right to the death against a defence packed tightly in the six yard box. Sone Aluko - we all love you here in Africa - you only have to beat a guy once.
But Reading won comfortably by successfully strangling the running game; snuffed it out, ruthlessly.
Wasn't pretty was it?
"We won and that's all that matters."
So says one of my new Reading Twitter friends last night. I am not a hypocrite, I have probably said it myself down the years.
But isn't this why the South Americans and Europeans run rings round us ? Why we don't win World Cups? That desperate desire to choke games at the expense of attacking football.
Sorry I will always be a football romantic and there is nothing anyone can do to change my mind.
Speaking of which, I was choking with laughter when I saw the righteous wrath of Reading fans after my last column. Many seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that I was writing a match report, which I was not. This publication asked me to write a blog as a Fan, not an analyst which I do not profess to be.
It always makes me laugh this online hectoring. Abuse always demeans an argument. It is the big chance for a computer programmer or shelf filler to make themselves feel important.
True, I wrote the last column in hot blood and maybe I should have slept on it, but some of this online bellowing was the sort of stuff you hear shouted at street corners after the pubs have closed.
"This guy claims to be a journalist," wrote another guy.
I have been a journalist for 36 years and won a string of awards reporting from scores of countries from South America to the South Pacific; I have walked through minefields, fought through tear gas, suffered truncheon blows and death threats in search of the truth.
More than once I have flown into war zones in Angola in the spiral - that is, for those of you who drive on the M4, the terrifying, death defying, spin in to land to avoid surface-to-air missiles. It was a lot more scary than tweets, I can tell you. I have been shoved into filthy cells, at gunpoint, in the cause of my craft and never gave up.
When anyone has the guts to do just one of the above they can talk to me about journalism. I tried to do you all the justice of a reply, in the interests of free speech, don't bother to write next time. Quite frankly, I am a busy editor and don't have the energy for this rubbish.
Another called me a plastic fan. What? in 1997 I flew from assignment in Zimbabwe to Heathrow and drove to Carlisle for and away game. It rained, but thankfully we won.
One online interaction did catch my eye. The bloke, whoever he is, who wrote a mock apology for Reading's performance at Fulham. It was a scream and sir you have a future as a comedy writer.
Speaking of which its only a blasted game. I try to put some perspective and humour into our passion. I tire of people who write about football as if it is an A-Level subject instead of the simple game we all grew up with.
Chris Bishop is the managing editor of Forbes Africa and follows Fulham from South Africa. You can follow him here: @ChrisBishopZA
