Right bear with me as I can hardly see anything. It’s been a liquid day.
It was cold down the canal especially going East. Bitter bone biter of a thing. Nuno has got Manager of the month then eh? The curse! oooooh. Nuno doesn’t give a shit about these things but on the Compton photo shoot with the award he wasn’t actually touching it. As well as having some dude hold the actual trophy Nuno had all of his back room staff around him in the snow cold. Nuno although pragmatic and again stoic knew the Kwan had to be protected. The Kwan and the team Juju would be affected negatively by that whole Sky Sports thing. Nuno glad he had won it, less glad to get tangled in the black tentacles of the Sky Sports curse. There is a fella in the woods at the side of the canal moaning and groaning to himself, he’s staring at the sun through the trees and my dogs don’t like it and growl sub audibly almost, deep back in their throats. The bloke has got a faded WBA pink woolly hat on. There’s half a foot of snow. Now he’s laughing, he’s holding a blue bottle of mad cider.
Sunderland in the snow cold. I’ve wrapped up warm today and there is no argument about coat choice. Snow coat. Boots. No Football Factory 80’s Adidas bollocks. Good grippy boots. Warm. What are a Sunderland? Coleman has just joined them. Coleman looks like he smells nice but also looks like he worries a lot. He’s going to be an hour down the motorway and think ‘fuck…did I leave the oven on?’. I wondered where Sunderland were in the league so I had a look. Oh dear. Coleman is going to look at lot more worried having to face us today. That Alan Hansen tan he rocks is going to look very pale. I wonder what happened to Alan Hansen? But I know how Coleman feels, I felt like it last Monday against City. Trepidation. I don’t want to talk too much about Sunderland but I wonder again if Coleman can galvanise those dejected well paid but highly dysfunctional team into some sort of shape to face this team of ours? What are you going to do Coleman you little Taff git?
Molineux has a thin layer of snow around it and that is purely a testament to how hard the ground staff have worked putting the game on. Thats the idea isn’t it? Last year there may have been a cursory sweep around but now, Nunoism even smashes the weather conditions.
Nuno is changing now. Gone is the peaceful Philosophy of the start of the season. The reasoning and thoughtful expressions he used to get his ideas to us. Then he was placating and reassuring, stressing the importance of bonds between club and support. Gently outlining his plans and desires. Now Nuno stands erect and is reiterating major points with a stab of his chin and head held back, commands rather than answers. Three Thousand years ago he would probably have been a great Greek General. But he looks like a man now firmly gripping the fur of the Wolf as he rides upon it and the accelerating beast rushes him through the dark forests of the Championship. Hold tight to that Wolf Nuno.
What may Coleman say to this figure? What idea will Coleman present to us on this cold Saturday afternoon? There are names within that team I am loathe to mention. My Southbank brothers have stories to tell about their fans too. The North East is strange to us, there is both beauty and desolation within it’s borders. Their fans are quiet and their songs flutter quietly into the sky before they get to me.
The match starts with a customary exchange of pleasantries. But Neves starts by being Neves. Ultimate footballer for me. We’re at the top of the hill but I don’t think we have seen the best of him yet. He’s understated for sure. He collects the ball like he has an affinity to it. He wants the ball, needs it, but as soon as it’s collected it’s gone again across the pitch.
I’m stood by the canal again listening to the lunatic cry. I ask him if he’s ok but he looks at me with eyes that have absolute terror in them. The snow still Falls on him and he takes another swig of his cider and has another plaintive wail. Here at Molineux our team look fresh but bruised. Doherty slashing pieces out of the pitch on one of his few runs.
How was it all? You’ve been in the bath and shaved off all those errant pieces of hair. Plucked your nose hairs. Plastered what’s left of your hairline into some semblance of a trendy fashionable haircut. Have a pout in the mirror. You pick up the 40 squid bottle of aftershave you rarely use. Spray a bit on. You are sexy as fuck. Put your pants on, the ones with the fewest holes and the most lively elastic. Clean pair of socks. Put some nice clothes on, you don’t really like them but she does. She’ll be downstairs doing something . You are fit as fuck, hold your gut in. You sidle down the stairs and get Barry Whites 50 greatest Lurve songs…is it too early for that? Maybe George Michael? Ah fuck it, Barry White, go in for the kill. You put the LED lamp on you got from Untouchables. It’s supposed to change colour from red to green but it’s stuck on green. She comes into the room and she looks like the Incredible Hulk in the lamp light. Fuck. Press play. Barry White oozes from the Argos Bluetooth speaker hifi thing. You do a little shimmy and your hip clicks. Fuck. She is more than half way down the Prossecco now. She is playing with the hairs on her arms and looking at you in that way that hides her squint. You sit next to her on the settee and make an attempt to smooch and groove but she’s not having any of it. Barry gets turned off and as she gets up to turn the telly on she lets out a vicious fart. Ant and Dec, Celebrity Jungle. And it’s all a fucking comedy really as you go and stare out at the snow in the back garden…
That match was like that. Ready for some smooth moves and some funky foot play. Fair enough it was sexy and it was beautiful, and it smelled nice. The day was cold and crisp. Football weather. Gloves and scarves, jolly pre Christmas faces. But it just wasn’t to be. We did well to hold on to our concentration that’s all I’ll say. The movement of Jota was again a joy to behold. And Neves? What football from him. Pure funk in slices of hot Neves bass. He runs his own set list that dude. Faced with a Sunderland back five to unlock he was proudly reticent to inflict his football on it. But Wolves clicked the tumblers to the safe trying to unlock the meaty tumblers of Sunderland. Those meathead, long necked pale Northern motherfuckers. They are the Plumber that never turns up and the Gas Fitters hairy arse crack. What a fucking task Coleman has, and fair play to him he did a job today. A point for his team. A clean sheet too. But it wasn’t pretty Gary. It wasn’t real football. It’s supposed to be dynamic and brave combat full of thrills and madness that makes you want you scream and shout in joy and horror. But this was not that.
But it was a dip in the landscape I think. An intake of breath perhaps after the trials of the past month. But it’s important that we too had our part today and were lacking. It was quiet and reserved. The ambience was laid back and chilled out. It was football as sitting back in bed lighting a cigarette after hot sex. Everything is good. We have extended our lead at the top of the table for a bit at least. We are doing good and in January we will do better. I sense movement of players in and out. If Fosun are wise and Nuno demands then we will see a strengthening of this side of ours. Maybe here and now is the time to rest a few players, let some others have a go. Or is it a momentum that can’t be stopped and Jota, Cavaleiro, Neves, Bonatinni must play and must ‘crack’ on?
These next few weeks are important. These are the times when many of these young men that play for us have to spend Christmas away from families and loved ones. I know they are paid handsomely but still, it’s a time when you need people around you that you love and want to be with. They will have moments in the next few weeks when they will be a little slower and a little less committed because that’s the nature of the human being. Us? We must forgive these moments as we would deal with them in the same way as our players, a little selfish sometimes, a little sad.
My Albion fan is still in the trees and he’s downed half the bottle. He’s as pissed as a fart but he can see me and the dogs and he’s just watching me watching him while the dogs sniff things. Yeah sometimes I suppose these games come along in a season. It’s a bit of a shock though after the battering of Leeds and Notlob which is I suppose a Barometer of how well we have been playing. Onwards. I leave him behind and can still hear him shouting two hundred yards away. We will freshen up this team in January add to the already practically unstoppable impetus, new momentum and maybe new ideas too. Nuno is not one to sit back static and unmoving but constantly learns and acts on ever changing conditions. Yeah I’m not fussed by Nil-Nil. Learn and move on.
There was this beer in the Royal London…Jaipur IPA I think. Bloody lovely.