Benik-Afobe

Well it happened. Not Benik Afobe grinning on his signing video. not us feeling the love ‘again’. We loved Benik any way. He’s just been on holiday to Bournemouth as far as I’m concerned. Not the excitement of seeing him playing the Athenian Harp in the Emerald club either. What’s happened? Healing. The wounds have been covered up by the wonders of Chinese medicine. The last infection of the Scouse Virus has been given a killer dose of Antibiotics.

Benik? Horace has been round. He was having dinner with me and bought some French Fancies and some sexy Baguettes while we waxed some bars down about you. While I made the tea we talked about you, Dan O’Hagan and some other doughnuts. We had to get you straight in our minds, we had to talk about it because we are happy you are back. We both loved you man. Now everything is good and positive again… what the hell you are going to think of the passes you are going to get is anybodies business. Dude these balls are going to fall at your feet, we have magicians not footballers. We have a Coach that is metaphysical as well as physical. You are going to love this stuff.

Those wounds that Moxey and Morgan opened up when Benik waved goodbye have been open and festering for me at least. They stunk the whole place up. I couldn’t talk about it to anybody. Even when I started this blog the whole Afobe thing was one I couldn’t touch. What was the crux of the whole matter? Benik didn’t want to play for us they said. Thelwell in particular, probably instigated by Moxey. But these political machinations are far above my head but I took those words to bed with me while they festered and wormed their way into games I watched and conversations in the pub too. I was lost. Who wouldn’t want to play for us? Who would want to go to fucking Bournemouth of all places? That’s where people go to die. Thelwell will be big enough to go up to Benik and shake his hand and welcome him back but I bet the first goal Benik scores for us he will point up to the Billy Quiet and point right at Thelwell and wink. Gun fingaz. Boom. Have that. Bludclaat.

Healing. Jeff has bandaged my angst up. He has metaphysically demolished probably the last damaging thing Morgan and Moxey did to this club. Broke up the old school Holy Trinity we had. Sako/Dicko/Afobe smashed against the rocks and thrown to the lions. And yet we were so close with them. They had a telepathy that was spooky almost. Every cross and every pass falling onto the feet of their mate. We know how that goes though don’t we? We know the people closest to us, have some kind of telepathy and that feeling is golden and new. Until it was disrupted by hearsay and destruction.

I was angry when Benik went of course. All the missives coming out of Castle Molineux were dismissive of Benik. I know that’s the propaganda via the fog of footballing wars. But I’m one of those truthful, honest fellas. I took the rumours coming out of Molineux under the tutelage of Moxey with a fair and open heart. I actually believed it. You see, even at that point I still believed that Morgan and Moxey would be working for the benefit of the club and the City (in the wider scheme of things). Maybe at points they were doing some good. But that 5,000,000 in the Molineux coffers after Benik got sold certainly went some way in making the transition to Fosun a lot more attractive for certain. So it’s swings and roundabouts I suppose. I’m just a dull and simple lad who can’t figure out how these things work and to be honest I don’t want my Kwan contaminated with that stuff. I see it as it is and that’s it. Morgan and Moxey. They cost us a year those motherfuckers did. They condemned us to another Championship season. This was their legacy and it stinks.

In other news I see that the rats are chewing away at our ideas again. Mr Dan O’Hagan has suffered some pelters lately. I do actually feel sorry for him for even this humble scribe has suffered a few digs on Social media after having a go at Barnsley or Swansea. Thing is, the difference between me and him in one respect is that I got a ban, a hack and threw a few threats around too. He can’t do that. But then again it’s obvious that us ‘fans’ are a bloody vehement lot. Other clubs can crow and get high and mighty about their successes but are we not allowed? Do we have to shut up and buy our clappers, foam hands and just gobble up the bullshit the media ladles out? They can go and bollocks. You see if I was in a Pub and Dan started having a go at our owners and management etc. He would get pulled away to one side and told to shut the fuck up. You can do that in wine bars and trendy gastro pubs. Don’t do it in a shithole pub next to the ground full of angry tired excited Wolves fans who have just done a Saturday morning. Because that is basically what Social Media is. A shit pub full of lunatics.

Yes, it is strange that we can crow about the success we are having but fucking hell, we deserve to be able to. These Journalists have that passive aggressive banter, office wanker level stuff. Where they bet each other over some result and the loser has to wear their rivals shirt. It’s geek bollocks. I could never even touch an Albion shirt yet alone put one on. Banter to us leads to swapping blows on the factory car park behind the containers so the cameras don’t see you. It leads to splits in families and friendships. I know it’s daft and I know it’s stupid but thats simply the way it is. These pundits concerns in life are their mortgage, their exposure and their careers. We don’t have careers, or mortgages half the time so our football club takes up a lot more love than we can handle. That’s why you get the piss ripped out of you and this battleground is full of half insane people who love their club a little more than is good for them.

That’s why these doughnuts are a bit shocked that the reaction to their pissant depressing posts about Wolves are being met with such disdain. They operate within a sterile passionless environment where soundbites and not succinct analysis are the cloth from which their careers are cut. But because their missives are short and defunct most of the time so is their emotive styles that they cast on Social Media. To them it’s a passive aggressive soundbite. To us it’s a fucking declaration of war. How fucking dare they.

This is why those emotions lack context and background information. It just sounds like babbies throwing their dummies out of the pram. And I know why that is. Nobody fucking talks to them any more. The broadcast and print media are seeing the powers they once had fritter away like their hair. They are pissed off. Now they have to utilise Social Media like never before and they don’t fucking like it. They don’t like being pulled up about some ‘fact’ by Reg Bollockrash from Gornal about the intricacies of the transfer market or over past tweets. Social Media has made ‘them’ have to interact with ‘us’. They don’t like it. No more Press buffet warmness, no more back slaps off Managers, no more quaffing a clubs wine with the rest of the Lizards, no more first name terms with star players. They, like us, are just passers-by now.

So take any news off these pundits and Social Media lizards with a pinch of salt. Don’t get too annoyed by the depressing comments and the snidey bollocks they tweet. They aren’t important any more. The club has never been important to them either. They always bow to their job and career before the Club and that’s the way they will always be. Them chatting up the sexy lady friends in their plush office and us fighting two Albion fans behind the containers…remember it’s always their right to pull you up over insults forgetting they started it in the first place. By all means define your arguments empirically and quantitatively but when the information you are getting is half researched ‘points of view’ quality shit then it’s time to steam in fists flailing. It’s opening these presents your rich Uncle has brought from Europe and moaning because your presents are better than everybody elses. It doesn’t make sense and neither do their trims.

Benik man. I always loved you even when the propaganda machine went into overdrive. I loved you even more when somebody told me what your Dad said the day before you went to Bournemouth. The real story. Out of respect for the person that told me I’m not going to repeat it. I suppose we needed the black ink in the books to get us sold and out of the hands of the ‘Double M’ mafia. I suppose in a way we just ‘pawned’ you for a while. Somewhere nice too, the seaside, playing for a team that had all the attraction of a dusty Pawn Shop window too. Now we have the ready cash we can buy you back and put you back in the team again. So the whole sorry saga can be put to bed and we don’t have to talk about it any more just ‘Yo Benik, what ya sayin?’ when we see you. Nuno is here now, and you can talk to him about your ideas safe in the knowledge that we have an intellectual in charge of footballing matters. Listen to him and learn Benik. Listen to him and learn to love him like we do. When you score you can run up to us in the Southbank and remember us. You’re home now mate, everything is good again.