Disappointing. That word kept floating around my head last night. It was silly more than disappointing. Confusing as well but unsurprising. I can keep busting out words like this all the way through this post. To be honest that’s the way Wolves get in your head. I’m searching around for answers and the only way I can answer myself is by wandering around an empty house moaning at the dogs and saying ‘Disappointed’ at them while they fart and look at me with a disgusted look like I did it. Fart…not lose a football game 4-0. Fabio, it’s not always like this you know. Sometimes we play football so beautiful it has made grown men cry and made our ground shake with a madness that you will not have seen before. I am sorry that display was poor, please accept our collective apologies.

Now it takes some sort of weird turning of the heavenly algorithms to make David Moyes undo Nuno in the old idea stakes trust me. But that’s exactly what he did. West Ham negated nearly everything we threw at them (which wasn’t a lot). Traore was neutralised, Boly sucked into a pit of darkness, Moutinho for once ineffective, Ruben Neves a bystander. Semedo looked shell shocked. Saiss reminding me of the Stears (God bless his name). You know who the names are, you watched the game same as me. Bloody hell. What was going on? We miss Jonny for sure but extrapolating the character and play of Jonny onto Vinagre is a moot thing. I feel a bit sorry for Vinagre to be honest. It is his season to shine and despite this open stage he is playing with a cast of barely communicating players. You can’t make a silk purse out of a Sows ears so they say. I am not being overly critical of Vinagre yet, lets wait and see what he does when the whole team is locking together in unison before we make those statements.

Probably thousands of variables to be honest. I’ve used the A and B games analogy before and I’ll do it again just for the record. You can’t play ‘A’ games all the time. Sometimes you play ‘B’ games where you still look good and win. Some games are C games where you scrounge a draw and a point. Often you have D games where everything goes wrong and the philosophies and ideas are flung out of the equation and you go onto autopilot which means you have a tentative grasp of what the Coach wants you to do but fuck knows how and it ends up in some robotic shit show of your players just mincing around on the pitch while West Ham throw the shapes at you that remind you of….well you really.

West Ham are on the ascent of a run of form. You could tell that when you watch the game they played against Arsenal last week. West Ham lost but it was very close for me. West Ham were just catching hold of that idea and of course we would play them next…and suffer. Those goals from Bowen really sliced us apart and even at ten minutes in it looked as if we didn’t really have any kind of answer to it so it was a case of settle in and pull something over your head while you watched. It was ‘a bad day at work’ for sure. But looking at West Ham players you see a lot of D game potential and history. Many of them have been pilloried about their performances before this match. I read a lot of football writing, I have seen this. But all of a sudden they were playing A grade football against a Wolves team who for the most part are on a slippery slope of D game potentiality. We are in a desert of form where the message is confused under the pressure of opponents drive and intent.

That’s OK too really. We are lacking any sort of pre season. You know that Nuno loves a pre season. It’s where he defines what he wants and how he wants to see it done. He beats the metal into some sort of shape, the shape he wants to play. The squad is still malleable and ductile of course. There are relationships to be forged with the new players and between the squad members. These relationships are part of the whole zeitgeist when putting a squad out. I don’t really think this loss of form can be reduced and some blame attributed to one player or a bunch of them really. You know me well enough, I don’t cuss individual players, it’s silly and unproductive. If we have a bad result then it’s a lack of maybe effort on the one hand and some metaphysical zeitgeist that can rear it’s ugly head at any time despite the quality of each player on the pitch. They are professional sportsmen, they will not be affected by the lack of form from one of their team mates, they will be clever enough to let their own ‘shine’ dissipate as they cover their team mate, so the game becomes a disjointed team effort at everyone tries to cover everybody else (or doesn’t as the case may be. We are confused and the players are probably confused. I don’t hold to a Prescriptivist outlook where my judgements on the team efforts are commands that we change this or it’s imperative that we do that. Indeed if we go down some sort of reductionist route then we tend to single out players rather than expanding our minds to take in all the other variables that could have affected us last night.

Poor Semedo must have wondered what the fuck was going on. I feel a bit sorry for him. Fabio too who is getting some heat off Social media from the Gonks and Flakies. Bust out any Wolves player now and somehow, somewhere they are to blame and that’s the meat and potatoes of chatting about the game we love but it’s not serious and it’s not important. Sometimes it’s a positive thing getting tonked in a game at some point. When I lost a race I was the first person to moan at everything that wasn’t connected with me personally as a reason for poor performance, until I grew up a bit and saw that really it was just me in a comfort zone of my own brilliance…which didn’t last long. Getting fucked up by West Ham is a gentle reminder to our team that despite all the cash flung around on shiny new players from these clubs from the top tiers of European football…you still have to be a team. Are we one yet? Nah not at the minute. But Nuno is beating that anvil like a man possessed. I think we needed to get battered to be honest. Now it will be one of the things, one of the fires that will perhaps galvanise the team into a sort of togetheryness, a group identity of sorts that they haven’t quite grasped since the end of last season. This stuff takes time and patience…for us it’s easy, all we have to do is point fingers and moan. For Nuno and the Coaching staff it’s mostly empirical and statistical. They have done everything on paper to provide Wolverhampton Wanderers with a squad of enormous potential…but a squad is not a team. I think this result and probably a few more will reflect the changing evolution of the squad as I said before. There will be some false starts of course. Ideas are perfectly broadcast by key players coming together in a run of form and those relationships are integral to team performance but you can lead a horse to water but making it drink is another thing entirely.

Yes, I think it’s the start of a very weird season to come when things are absolutely not going to go to plan. I think (as well) that the fact that everything isn’t going to plan will kind of forge a mentality that so far we have been lacking. We need to be insane sometimes on the pitch and drive forwards together with that backs to the wall us versus them attitude we had early on in the evolution of this squad. But we’ve been there before for sure, been there so many times last nights result was ruminated on, moaned at and then stored away for later like every shit game we have watched. I hope the squad reflect on it which I know they will and utilise the wise words from the Coaching staff on the reasons it went a little wrong and why we had a D level game against an A grade West Ham. All it lacked was a bit of oomph, a bit of speed in delivery, a little accuracy. Poor old Neto…he reminded me of that game way back in 1989 I think when Paul Cook was constantly shouting for the ball in acres of space and nobody passed it to him for 45 minutes. Anxious yes, mistakes yes, spread throughout the team. Make your dysfunction stronger than theirs. Yeah we did that. Bollocks to it. We can have some revenge in the next match against West Ham for sure. Is there a Holistic view from me this week? Yeah, same as last week. Our team are missing us. As daft as it sounds when we talk about ideas and multi million pound players, we may not have lost that game if we had a few thousand fans in that God awful place West Ham play their football. In the meantime wait for that ‘click’ in the team. It will come. Patience.

There is a breeze and I turn to say, Look at the beautiful day, but hey, There’s no one there but a whisper of grey, In the old gold magic of the day. (Verse of one of my songs)

Nuno waved at the Ford Transit Pick up truck as it weaved down the leafy lanes of Nunos ends. In Nunos hand was a couple of crisp twenty pound notes the raving Gypsy had pressed into his palm before leading Little Dave to the awaiting vehicle puffing gusts of oily black smoke from it’s exhaust. The money meant nothing of course. What was money. Nuno had enough now, enough cash to build his life when this insanity of football management was over. Wolves were a sublime and chilled out experience…after Valencia of course. War would be a simpler way of explaining his time in Spain. He shuddered a little. Summer was sighing it’s last even if it was warm, the leaves on the trees at Compton were turning brown now. It was a sign of an end of course. Jota had gone, it was signed and sorted to everybody’s satisfaction. There had to be a change here too. Little Dave had been a stalwart of the team when Nuno joined. His heart and passion unreachable, his football not great but good, not inspiring but familiar, not resolute but dependable. The idea to sell Little Dave had come from Mendes. Little Dave had ripped off the winged Angel off the front of Jorges Rolls Royce and had instead nailed a dead pigeon on glossy freshly waxed bonnet with a six inch nail. Nuno had rewatched the CCTV of the driveway. Little Dave never smiled all the while his hammering and errant blows smashed dents in the car. Nuno was at his wits end. Jorge infuriated. When Jeff Shi heard about the incident he just ‘looked’ through his spectacles, his face impassive, his slight frame unmoving, not a sniff not a turned hair or a blink. Impassive. (To be continued)

So Raul speaks. Teams are after him, words have been spoken, heads have been turned I daresay. Perhaps his ‘Head has gone’ which is hilarious. I have waxed secretive lyrics to other Wolves fans whose opinions I trust and whose insight is second to none both from a footballing perspective and as Wolves fans since time immemorial. As I am an idiot I listen very closely to what they have to say. Now you know me well enough, if a player makes noises about leaving the club then I get all angsty and throwy. It’s a fans eye view of the whole show. But look at the facts. For one, I don’t know where we are going to get another 20+ goals a season striker from. I don’t player FiFa or whatever the kids play on their computer things these days, so I don’t get to see the little statistic cards dudes like to post on Social media…well I see them but I don’t really understand them. But yes, twenty plus goals AND the work rate of the man is ridiculous. How would you replace that? Well they say if you want to know about the future take a quick look at the past.

Raul was and is and economic entity as well as being an excellent player. Who knows what fingers are stuck in him as he moves from club to club for increasing fees. But that now is the nature of the beast we tangle with. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that our players are investments and money generators. Now more than ever. That’s why I kind of insinuate that perhaps you should give ‘some’ of your heart to a player but always keep a little bit of your heart to yourself. Now more than ever we struggle with the mental aggravations of having your favourite player flogged off to the enemy. Jota to the Scousegits. Part of me wants him to do well and to smash into the Liverpool team proud to drag with him some of that Wolfishness we like to relate our players with. But a part of me has already forgotten him and his goals. The mind tends to search out the negative aspects of Jota, the ineffectual runs, the plonked pass, the shot that had all the effect of a fart in a crowded lift. Yes….Raul. You are making transfer noises and this bothers me. But not as much as Steve Bulls rumoured move to Coventry City back in the day. That time was like a punch in the throat. This time my mind has evolved somewhat. We aren’t all Wolves am we? I feel like I’m hitching a ride on some great gold and black beast, hanging on for dear life trying to cram my Raul mask back on as the wind tries to tear it off. The Fosun beast is bucking and kicking underneath and I'[m shouting “It’s ok! It’s just evolution! We have to grow too!” until the beast throws us off and tramples us under it’s feet. Perhaps I’m being dramatic. But it’s those half whispers of information that get you. The rumours and the statements that are given out by the club which leave you scratching your head trying to ascertain what the fuck they really mean.

It’s bad enough being linked with players of calibre and intent. Madrid, Barcelona, Porto the list is long. Then we actually buy players from these places! So that means we sell too and that endless merry go round of players tinkles happily around and around with all the pretty lights and music, the funky videos, the great hair, beautiful teeth, Youtube videos full of excellent football insanity. We of course stand in the darkness watching, we too laugh and smile, some even try to get on, but it’s too fast, too bright. An errant foot placed wrongly and we are either dragged underneath or flung off into the netherworld of Social Media where everybody reads but nobody understands. The Merry Go Round is full of our players and others we don’t know yet. Every time the amusement ride revolves more money is made and the ride becomes grander, more attractive, louder and brighter. But we still aren’t allowed to get on.

How does this affect us? Well, look at the fans of other clubs. I’m not talking about the Johnny come lately knobheads with the big beards and the war trims. But the ones that experienced football when it was more akin to a campaign of war. Well, we are older and some of us are wise enough to shrug the experience of seeing players you have grown fond of being shunted off to other climes. Helder Costa bothered me a lot, but I understood it. Cavaleiro too gave me a few damp moments. Jota…well it’s Liverpool and I’m adult enough to recognise that if Nuno and the team has shifted him off to a rival then his stock wasn’t held in such high regard at Compton as it was in the stands at Molineux. He will probably be in the squad that faces us when we play them and he will probably score a couple too. That’s the way of the Wong for sure. But his overall effect may be quite subdued. There will be no Nuno magic there for him to luxuriate in, no hidden Nuno knowledge. Instead, Kloppism which is a bloody strange Philosophy at the best of times. Did I care much about his departure? Not really. What do I know about football?

Yes, that ride goes around and around and the faster it goes the more often those grinning faces of players atop those garish painted Unicorns and Horses will change faster and faster too and we will still be there in the darkness, watching, listening, cheering it on. My advice is this…how many times have we watched a stale and bereft of imaginative football Wolves side? You know the ones, I’m not going to name names. But how many times did we start a new season and watched the same old cock ups and comedies from our former players? How much did we whine about the need for new faces to galvanise the football we were playing which for a good many years was insipid bollock not worth £1.50 (with a Leisure card). A lot mate. Then of course the fairground ride that was Wolves was a bit dilapidated and crap, paint peeling off here and there, it creaked and the diesel engine pulling the knackered horses around and around belched sweet carcinogenic fumes into your open mouth. But we would still manage at times to get on the ride at least. Because nobody else wanted to. Lets watch this ride with Raul and company laughing and enjoying themselves because at least we have the opportunity to see it as it is, a fairground ride there to make money for the operator but the fuel that drives it is us. What would the ride be without people wanting to get on? Of course getting on the ride (for us) means talking about it. Raul goes to Juventus or Yanited and we can wax sweet lyrics about it. Bad ones, hate mails, vented aggravations all over Social Media. Running a hot iron over the back of your kids Wolves shirt with Raul on the back trying to peel his name off so you can have Fabio put on. In fact there’s a good idea, make player names peelable for when they fuck off somewhere else hahahahahaha. But yeah, lets also dive into some good memories of Raul. The Everton goal, his first one. His assists, which were lovely, the Mexican hats and blankets that the flakies bought to go to Wembley, the fucking masks. That’s how we enjoy the ride we can’t get on, by letting that ride drag some sort of emotion out of us whether it be negative or positive. It gets us talking, and in todays climate there isn’t enough talking and arguing for my liking. There’s a lyric to one of my songs at the top of this page and I put it there for a reason…it kind of reverberates with the rest of this post in that unconsciously I always write about Wolves in a song and don’t realise it until I’m sitting down singing the bloody thing. They are supposed to be plaintive delicate songs about Love and most of the time I scratch out any references to Wolves in them. But Love and Wolves go hand in hand I suppose, even at a subconscious level. But my advice is this, enjoy the bad and the good connected with the club because at least it’s an emotion, at least it’s some feeling even as these times wear us further and further down. Raul, if you move it will drive us mad, but to be honest we were mad anyway.

I’ll be honest. I was well tempted to go last night and stand on the top of the subway with maybe a few cans, some whisky in my Billy Wright flask, a couple of chaise an nunion cobs. The old bill would have come for sure and I wasn’t sure which Mikey would turn up. The horrible one that would be throwing Coppers off the top or the nice academic one. The academic Wolves turned up for sure and it ended up a 3-1 loss. I stayed at home, there’s no way I can get my head around not going to the footy any more. I look at the Cocaine addled Government and can’t see them getting their act together at all I’m afraid. Football (if they don’t sort their crap out) will soon become a TV based series like ‘Strictly’ or Great British Bake off and you will end up not with Punditry but like fat bald head from ‘Little Britain’ and that woman with no neck off ‘Bake off’ waxing lyrics about how nice Pep was in the interview and “Oooh I hope he’s not hurt” when some doughnut gets a midfield two footer.

It’s not a mystery football you know. It’s about simple things done elegantly and with a little bit of rage. Academic Wolves. You could tell they were probably thinking too hard about this game against Manchester City. Pep is oozing around in the odd pop up interview saying all the right things. No way was this game going to be one of last seasons fights. In the recent past our meetings have been eloquent and physical games with both teams flashing character and insanity across the pitch. This game was not painful, and not upsetting despite Sterling throwing himself around the pitch like a fat bird on a picnic table at a dogging sesh. Sterling come on man, why? You’re a great footballer. No need mate, you have some of the greatest football players around you to put sexy accurate balls at your feet and you still act like a wet wipe. Stop it, it’s very sad to watch.

But less about Manchester. It was a typical Wolves first half so that means nothing is going right and everything goes wrong and we ride our luck against a City team with full hard ons and Nuno is analysing again seeing what the fuck is going on. I mean there’s a possibility that in my own stupidity I can’t draw conclusion out of why our first half was crap apart from to say well, City are an expensive bunch of knobheads. They are probably still excited about the chat they just had with the Lizards at the Eatyahead stadium about the bitcoin bonuses they will get at the end of the season when they are Champions. They still don’t quite know how to deal with Wolves and Nuno at all. Despite the way they impressed themselves on us in the first half. They ‘ooze’ for sure. Our defence seemed a little shell shocked by it. First week of school lads and already those Bullys from Manchester are booting your new school bag up and down the school corridor and all your new felt tips have fell out, your protractor you will never use is flung into the playing fields glistening never to be seen again. They looked like that kid running up and down trying to get his bag back. All red faced and angry…a bit embarrassed. Boly looked like that kid at times. Even Coady had trouble instilling some sense of responsibility in them. This madness culminated in de Bruyne tempting Saiss with a dangly pale leg to breath on, which Saissy did of course leading to de Bruyne depositing himself flat on the floor. Is this what it is then City? Is this how you are going to win the league this year? Fair enough. Not long afterwards Foden has farted one into the back of the net as well so this 2-0 thing is well and truly going on. By this time of course the ground would be heaving. People would be standing on seats in the Southbank exhorting passion and madness from our team. I daresay a few Stewards might be in there too tussling a few pissheads out for chucking stuff. Songs, shouting, swear words. You know how it goes. We are worth some goals us lot mate. The crowd. We would have been going mental. Members of our team would have half an eye on the Southbank of course watching the chaos. Knowing that mentally we were driving them on, inspiring them in their efforts and instead they have an empty stadium. Echoes of ministrations bouncing around the seats. Nothing but ghosts in there and the Lizards from the Press.

Donk was left out for Neves who seemed a bit subdued. This seemed to rub off on Moutinho too and it all smacked a little to much of waiting for pieces to be put into place for me. The imminent arrival of Semedo from Barcelona will come none to soon for me. Traore down that end isn’t an option for sure. We need him terrorising people up the other end. It’s pulling the team out of shape, especially that first half and there seems to be half a notion that once that position at RWB is fulfilled then things will lapse back into the shape and action that Nuno and the team have designed for this seasons actions. As soon as Marcal went off it gave City an opening for sure and they stuck their noses in the trough immediately so lets say his injury kind of put us on the back foot and that impetus from the starting whistle slowly came to a grinding halt as we tried to remember all the shapes and moves without him there and with the team pulled out of shape.

I hope his injury isn’t serious. We need soldiers like him this year. I don’t think any of the Wolves team were ball watching at any point but I suspect that even if Man City were in the early flushes of their season, the experience they have kind of made their football a very flowing and beautiful thing to watch at times. They haven’t really forgotten their rhythm from last season where as we seemed to be confused about what cadence was and how that cadence can make the us somewhat hypnotised by the effortless City groove. Again, a crowd at Molineux would have disrupted that endless click clack of an almost metronomic City strategy to press and move off the ball as effectively as they were on it. I sincerely believe that with us there we would possibly have drawn or even won this game. City don’t look a million miles away from us in footballing terms it’s just that we haven’t quite got our heads around the new footballing covenant Nuno and the team have prepared. But man, it’s there just underneath the surface waiting to burst out and start putting noses out of joint again. Was it four chances that went begging? When you believe of course, those goals go in. Belief not improvement probably.

Biglove for DanPod here. I enjoy his movement much. Megging deBruyne was hilarious and funny. We live for that madness. Neto is growing too. Raul is an absolute gift. Punking his head on the ball for a consolation goal was lovely. Let his keep his touch and his mindset. Don’t worry too much about the rest of the team getting their heads around these new shapes and moves. Keep your own mind sharp Raul. Wait for those balls to start pinging in. Neto and DanPod have to work out the telepathy between each other and the rest of the team. Confidence with playing with each other has to grow and be nurtured with delicate conclusions after each match. Indeed the whole team has to try and remember what this whole pantomime is really about. That is, destroying the opposition on a football pitch, destroying them that completely they walk off heads hanging wondering what has just gone on. We can do it. Was it 55 minutes on the clock and things started to gel and solidify in our team? All of a sudden spaces and passes were working out. We moved a lot easier and pressure all of a sudden was Wolves flavoured and even Pep started to get a bit of a sweat on. He must have Post Traumatic stress from last season when we demolished City.

Let me wrap this up. I’m not upset by that loss last night. It’s still early days and it’s a bloody hard game against these lot. They were lucky they played us early doors of the season because…and I will be honest, I didn’t think there was a lot between both sides. Maybe City edged it in the experience stakes, maybe perhaps it was like home game for them…playing in a silent stadium. But Wolves are missing us so I’d like to say this to the team because I know a few of them read this awful blog.

“Wolves, we love you and I’m sorry we can’t be there to shout you on and the stadium seems a bit strange without us there. But rest assured that our love for you has not diminished one bit in fact our love has probably grown. Absent hearts grow fonder so they say. Every game you play in the silence of a stadium we are there with you, every kick of the ball. Nuno we fucking miss you man. We miss you coming up to the Southbank and cheering your madness and love. We are not gone, we are just waiting patiently and the day we see each other again we will take the fucking roof off the place with our love. Until we meet again remember that you are not alone out there, when you go out to fight for those points listen closely and you will hear us. God Bless”

It’s strange thinking of this game against Sheffield United and the Campaign in General as being some sort of ‘Start’. When did we finish to start? I’m not going to be mawkish and sentimental about the lack of fans at these weird abstract games played in empty stadiums, already there has been much moaning about it and for Gods sake I’ve been one of them and it’s boring now. It’s time to batten down the hatches and squat down in your chair with that vacant stupid expression people have when they are concentrating on audio. You know the one.

No Pre-season…well we never really had a post season. Will it effect us in any way? I doubt it. For one it wouldn’t surprise me if Nuno and the team have direct links to their players houses via webcam. You get Fridges now that you can access on your phone to see if you have any milk left. I can imaging Traore going in the fridge for some Ben and Jerrys ice cream (or if he goes to Aldi, Len and Barrys) and Nunos face appearing in the LCD display going “Hey what you doing? Put it back!”. Traore doesn’t shop at Aldi does he? He’s a Tesco man gotta be, or Sainsbury. Neto probably shops at Nett….I’ll shut up. Fabio Silva is on the bench looking beautiful like a Caravaggio Cherub on an Italian Church wall. Nah don’t put him on yet. Sheffield United are a bit footy and shinny if I’m honest. Despite their position in the Premier League and their finish they still have a bit of lower league darkness about them for sure. You can tell that by the weird war trims they sport. Wilder for all his waxamisations and lubricating football talk has a bit of the Warnockian about him. I might be wrong but that’s just the impression I have. Marcal is on the pitch too and you know…he looks quite refined and quiet for now but underneath that calm exterior is a cauldron of intent waiting to pop up. It will too.

But settling myself down I was quite prepared for the usual 40 minutes of the opposition giving us a bit of a mauling to be honest. Same as last season. We tend to start slow, took some time to get moving and remember why we were there or spending large parts of the match watching the Seagulls flying over the John Ireland stand flicking off the bits of fingernail Horace had spit out onto my shoulders. Remember football matches? But instead of that languid almost acoustic play we get some full fat Wolves lunacy that usually appears at around 55 minutes on the clock. I hadn’t even finished my kick off roll up and Jimmy has poked one in with the grace of a dancer to be sure. An effortless thing it looked like. Poor old Chris Wilder the Sheffield Coach looked like someone had nicked his jetwasher or the bin men hadn’t emptied his purple bin…again. That confused look that morphed between anger, confusion, bemusement and horror. He folded his arms and threw some grump faces at all and sundry. Nuno looked that happy, I mean that happy face he pulls like he’s half stabbed someone to death…an enemy or something. It’s DanPod of course that gets things moving for Raul. He’s a dark horse this one for sure. At least his legs have arrived from Greece where last season I suspect they got lost in the post. Man legged down that left wing having a few jinkys on the way. Legs were a blur and he pokes it over and under a bit into the box where Raul is trying to be quiet and not wake the United defence up who were flailing around in their sleep having bad dreams about DanPod and Neto. But DanPod is finding his feet here I think and probably enjoying himself at last. Sometimes it does take a bit of familiarisation to bump knees properly or in the way Nuno wants.

So to my addled mind it seems like DanPod and Neto are buzzing around Raul up front and early doors they have give me a headache already by switching around and prowling about. Even though they are slight fellows by any standards they have something very bloody tricky about them, they make up for large physical presence not by being physical themselves but by avoiding physical contact full stop. When they have the ball the opposition are just obstacles. Not obstacles you have to try and demolish with your own head but obstacles to be run around and avoided all together. Evolution again from Nuno. Make your ideas stronger than theirs but constantly evolve those ideas. Look at the bench. Neves, Fabio, Vitinha. Quality and the difference between Sheffield and us. The bench is solution, options, possible advantage and opportunity. Selection of Neto and DanPod are the result of intelligence reports and work. Looking at the United team to see where they will be beaten, where they will feel pressure and who will crack under that pressure. The United defence is physical, tall, old school and we are new, vibrant, fast, nimble. When me and Horace went to a few Wolves V Liverpool games last season and before that we noticed how Klopper could dash on a few substitutes that were game changers, quality players. No more can we see the Wolves bench as blokes that perhaps had a few beers the week before and were a bit fragile so they were given a day off. We have grown and developed the squad, there is a Premier League and European mindset now to fill every available player slot with quality and a correct razor sharp mental condition.

In midfield we have Donk and the Wizard Moutinho. Donk there to chase down the opposition and never give them a moments peace. He didn’t either to be honest. Moutinho looked like he could have played well into the early hours. You could hear him giving out shork barking exclamations and orders. If he tells you to move you move. If Coady is the Captain and leader then Joao is definitely the Shaman of the team. There is wizardry there for certain, elements and a detail with his football and aspects of it that are as confusing and as amazing as watching a kid complete a Rubik cube in three seconds flat. Watch his pass to DanPod before the Raul goal. I nearly threw the laptop out of the window and jumped into me Rose bush. I’m not fucking worthy mate. So already I’m thinking about pulling my own eyes out a few minutes into the game.

But you know Shaman Moutinho…a little story. When I was at Uni we went to one of these Freshers balls. Full of dickheads from sixth form and now free to run wild without teachers or Mom and Dads. Man, there were cheap shots, beers, free mugs and tat. All the Ex Factory lads like me and a few others wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to these events and get arseholed for cheapness and get a free mug of course. One or a few of these sixth form girls had put body glitter all over herself and in the sweat and youthful madness of the DISCO sorry…DJ Whogivesafuck, this body glitter covered everything. I was in me bath that many times trying to scrub it off I was red raw…where was I? Oh yeah. Moutinho is inspirational footballings equivalent of body glitter. I suspect all the Wolves team get inspired by his shapes. Covered in them. Neto bloody did. He stuck one of those trademark Moutinho type corners straight onto the head of Saiss who practically flew up and stuck his nut bang on the money mate. Me and my bludskins are very fond of Saiss and even if other members of the team get more of the plaudits sometimes we like to turn around to one another and say “Saissy eh” when he amazes us with something or dishes out a little justice. Always watch out for the quiet ones. 2-0 to us. Only six minutes gone.

Sheffield United don’t know what the fuck is going on in the first half. They look like the dudes checking their receipt in the shop doorway while you are trying to get in. That confused concentration and inability to articulate any response other than flailing around with 100% energy and 0% idea. So Raul is getting these balls to feet from DanPod and company and every single time he does the United defence go into this mad ‘someone turns the kitchen light on and the Cockroaches scurry around looking for a dark crack’. That’s unfair to Sheffield and I apologise but that’s how it felt.

Sheffield of course are not doughnuts and I suppose being generous they are not really a Warnockian mental asylum either. Of course they have a pop. Marcal is solid as a rock, he’s breaking things up down his end. Traore has a bit of a maddun and someone gets behind him. They are having a pop back. They have to, it’s the first day of school and already you are getting bullied. Neto comes off at some point, fair enough. Two goals in the groove lets think about changing the shape a bit and Oscar Burr comes on. Bit more defencey, bit more stoical. Change the shape and idea a little. Burr is quality, a player with a big Nuno stamp on his forehead. Burr does Nuno things how Nuno wants. Brilliant sub at the right time. So Traore can get up now and start to terrorise people up front for a bit. So Mr T busts some runs, shakes things up, scares and titillates makes Sheffield have one eye on getting back into the game and one eye on the Sonicio the Hedgehog. Saiss likes a taste too and you can tell things are quiter now becuase he keeps popping up the box trying to wrangle his forehead around a few headers making himself known, putting his name down, Lovely. We have cameos later on for Vitinha and Neves is given a few minutes but you know the game is done for. Wilder knows it, he’s now that sad with his arms crossed he looks like he found a pound coin in a trolley and lost a twenty squid note. Jesus Christ eh? Football.

This squad has evolved in the short time between the end of last season and this. It’s not additions and signings. I think they have evolved because they have caught up with (if not) the tactical longevity and establishment mentality of the top six definitely the ability to not bring one idea to the game but a selection. Not a luxury of being able to select a quality player from the bench but to change the shape instantly on the pitch with players who understand exactly what Nuno and the staff want. Less a case now of making your ideas stronger but making your ideas ductile and adaptable.

The game for me was less about the three points although seeing Sandwell United down the nether regions of the League table after one game a joyful experience. What excites me is that when we get to Wembley this season and win a Cup. I reckon the FA Cup to be honest. This team isn’t the same team as ‘that game we don’t mention and I can hardly remember’, it’s different for sure. Early days Brothers and Sisters. Early days, but exciting ones.

As I write this piece we are ready to start our 20-21 season in the Premier League. It’s our third season. The tricky third album syndrome really. As we have prepared well I am again expecting another season of weird, wonderful and fully scary shit to happen. But I am happy with the way the transfer window has gone. It’s always a dodgy time for fans on any football club to ascertain whether or not the aspirations of yourself (Mr Doughnut) are matched by the club you tend to support. I watch other teams mosh around flinging cash money at players I’ve never heard of or don’t like very much. I laugh extremely loudly at the some the players our fanbase and the media think we have a chance at grabbing hold of. Oxbarn Chambermaid? Really? He’s a bit fat and unfit…can’t see him playing here. That Maitland whatever can piss off as well from Arsenal…I mean I don’t think he’s a thing anyway. He’s an Arsenal doughnut through and through it’s probably just agent noise

But you know, I’m not as critical of choices and behaviours any more. I can see why people lose their heads over targets or lack of. People were fighting over bog roll a few months ago. Now the social implications of this virus are becoming more clear by the day. Everybody hates everybody else and now it’s not hidden by the busy day to day bustling around to work or taking the kids to school. It’s laid bare by adults sitting in front of social media or the BBC and sucking up that shit like it’s the last dregs of a can of Carling. That hate is coming out, that angst is pure and virile. A thumb twitching over a touch screen as the propaganda oozes out of your device. You feel bereft of the information you need because a lot of the information just makes you feel angry and tense. Politics, racial unrest, the climate…signings.

Fosun and the Molineux hierarchy are a subject that tends to interest me more than the players we have signed. Who knew their names? Who knew anything about them before they landed outside Untouchables clutching their armfuls of Solar powered Gnome lights, crap garden ornaments and Gorilla glue STICKS ANYTHING! Nothing my friends, nothing at all. Which is why…really, most of the plethora of new Wolves blogs and News accounts are worth less than a Gnats dick to me. There ain’t going to be anything coming out of Fosun they don’t want us to know. Fosun are like the Jesuits in Hugo Boss suits and instead of Black bibles it’s all iPad and iPhone bollocks clutched tightly and tapped upon incessantly. If any of their Chinese staff talk about anything to anybody their families would probably be shot back in China. Not judging anything of course. All global business has to have a streak of nasty, it’s a prerequisite for domination. That’s what Uncle Jeff wants, that’s what Fosun want. They want to make money and lots of it, they also want power over the game which you can only gather if you are right at the very top of the system. Fosun aren’t likely to be content rubbing elbows with the rest of the European also rans competing for trough space. Fosun want their own fucking trough mate.

Thing is…Fosun are an arm of the Chinese Government and if not an arm then at least a finger. The doctrines of business that rattle around the corridors of power in China are also reflected almost perfectly in the way Wolves now do their business. Quietly with soft footfalls. Fosun come in the dead of night pulling you half asleep from bed and before you know it you’re fighting for a handful of rice in THE KILLING FIELDS! Nah jokes, This transfer business is done with meticulous planning. The overtures that Wolves have made to attract these young players must have been epic. We love Wolves of course but if I had a few million quid I wouldn’t be living here mate, I’d be in the mountains of Wales with a guitar and a pencil and paper writing beautiful bluegrass songs….again. This meticulous planning is pure secrecy that would probably put the Vatican archives to shame in it’s complexity and value. Perhaps I’m stretching the point a bit but these transfers have taken time and planning. I bet their were a few sticky moments but they came through. Out of the blue and into the Gold and Black.

But we can tick boxes. Young, fresh agile minds, open to new ideas…not really understanding Nunos Philosophy yet but that will start to be trickled into their Squirrel heads slowly and surely with lots of time to go back and refresh what it actually was that Nuno and his team want them to do. Tick those boxes yes. Others? Investment, yes. These are players that will be worth tens of millions of pounds in the future. They have the hair and teeth, the nice skin, the good looks required, the ability to boot a ball where they want it to go too. Yes, Fosun know all that stuff and we’ve talked about it and blown enough smoke up Jeffs arse it’s a wonder the Fire brigade ain’t around his yard every five minutes. Fosuns mouths shut faster than Steve Morgans wallet. I still can’t forgive Grant fucking Holt or GROLT as I called him turning up at Molineux. How we weren’t relegated that season… well Helder Costa you little beauty. Thank you. I remember some doughnut at Compton waxing fat lyrics about what a great Coach Paul Lambert is. How we laughed, inside of course. Outside we just nodded, sagely.

We should be in Sheffield of course. Getting arseholed and a bit lairy (as ya do) so I’m sad that we wont be there but perhaps it’s a good job as I said earlier people are a lot more angry these days. There would probably be a riot at some point. This season is going to be very very strange my friends. Stranger than you could ever imagine. I rest easy because Fosun instigated one of the most stringent Covid protection systems onto the Wolves infrastructure I’ve seen. They’ve even put our Government to shame (which isn’t hard I know but…).

We have done excellent work in keeping our current team and I would bet a few worthless coins that this work actually took harder work than getting in our new signings. I wonder how many phone calls Jeff took from other clubs after Traore or Jimenez, Neves, Coady etc etc? I bet there were a few interested clubs in fact I bet there were loads. Then of course the players themselves would be tempted…maybe a little. Maybe Nuno was the reason many of them stayed. I read that Nunos future was sorted out with Uncle Jorge at a meeting in London which took a few hours. I bet it was just a paper exercise to be honest. I tell you now that keeping Nuno here would have been a campaign and a half from Fosun promising Nuno that all hands were at the oars to get Wolves to a position where the Club would match Nunos ideas blow for blow. Nuno of course knows he isn’t going anywhere yet. What club would he arrive at with his ideas with that club (if it’s a top European side or Premier side) when most of the top clubs are now “Managed” via committee? I don’t see Nuno being supported as well as he is at Wolves. Fosun take a back seat when the lights are shining and the fireworks are singeing the the hair of the crowd in the John Ireland stand. If Uncle Jeff was that way inclined he would be out on the pitch every game waving like a drowning man with that strange smile he has like he’s kidnapped your family and you will do what he wants or else. Wolves are now in Nunos blood and Nunos blood runs in our veins too I suspect. We have been through too much, maybe Nuno knows this. Wolves are his club like it is ours. I hope he makes a few million so when he does go back home he can buy his own boat to fish off as he quaffs fine wines and Cuban cigars in the sun…I hope he thinks about us sometimes in the freezing rain waiting for the 559 Bus that doesn’t seem to be coming. Nuno uses stadiums as mixing bowls for what he requires as an end product. Look at new players as finer ingredients as he mixes and cajoles new substance out of the pot. Look forwards to last seasons players being galvanised by the new bloods. There will be subtle differences of course but with that Gold and Black football madness always at the forefront of the method. Alchemy for sure and I’ll stop there before I go off on a tangent again.

Yes, this season is going to be very weird indeed. I feel lost if I’m honest. On the one hand early on, a few months ago I was destitute at the thought of not seeing my team. I threw my dummy out of the pram. I didn’t want to talk Wolves at all, it didn’t interest me, fuck football, it’s ruined anyway with VAR, and what the fuck is it to do with us anyway. Petulance, same as the doughnuts who moan on social media about the shirts or the tickets or whatever fuck else we can think about. We are all prone to it. But maybe there are ways to keep the impetus going while games are played behind closed doors. Maybe this virus will piss off at some point and we can go back and be knobheads at the footy again. I hope so. But in the meantime, stay in contact with the people you know at football. Ask how they are doing and what they are up to. Forge new relationships if you can. But keep thinking about Wolves and what we are about. Remember we are the greatest club in the World bar none, forget about the Europa and league positions just remember who the fuck you are so that when we are all elbowing and coughing at all and sundry on the way into the Southbank we actually understand why we are walking back into the ground.

As much as Fosuns flashy media videos reverberate and clang through your head like the aftermath of a few E’s it’s us that are Wolves, not the fireworks and the razzmatazz, not the videos, not the bullshit. It’s us, the great unwashed that actually live here and work here, die here too I suppose. When we play tonight watch the fucking thing, invite your mates around and who gives a fuck how many, fill your house, make it something…just make sure none of them are coughing and have a certificate of health or something.

Sheffield United are old foes. Yorkshire as a whole can suck my dong. I’m not convinced by anything United have shown me over the past couple of seasons. I don’t care about their Coach and I don’t care about their team only that they stand in the way of us getting three points on the deck to start with. Lolbion lost against Leicester. Much hilarity to start and everything has started off on the best footing. Now Nuno is going to show us a few things this season. It might be a bit hairy to be honest. 3rd season. The vibes will be different and things will flow on the pitch a little differently. It may take a little bit of time for our new dudes to bed in and hopefully be firing on all cylinders once the horde of six fingered freaks from North Birmingham turn up dribbling and gnashing their fucking green teeth. Hope so any way. God bless, good luck tonight lads.

Sometimes things happen in the world that makes you think…well, that things are all turning in the right direction for once. Justice has been served and perhaps we have seen ‘progress’ as naked and as raw as we will ever see it.

Conor Coady my favourite Wolves player was picked for an England match last week. I had great misgivings about it to be honest…I mean they were the first feelings I had when I heard the news. Then, like a punch in the balls, another feeling, well a number of them. I was proud, more proud than you could ever think. That day I walked around a lot taller than I am used to. I’m normally hunched over wondering when the next bit of grief sleet is going to sting my face. Tall and proud yes. Walking around Aldi wanting to boot people into the vegetables. Energised and angry of course. Why angry? I didn’t want Coady to be around that bunch of England weirdos. They are dysfunctional and strange these England players. I don’t feel connected with them in any way…since Bully played to be honest.

Coady is everything good about Wolves rolled into one bundle. In him, the Nunology is strong. Nuno as Alchemist maybe, as well as a Philosopher. Forging and mixing up all the ingredients he wanted in a player, in a Captain and saw Coady as the perfect vessel to mix his footballing rhymes and rhythms into. There’s a story called ‘The Chemical Wedding’ which explains via metaphor and allegory the distillation of a human soul into a pure essence. Pardon me for confusing this football talk with metaphysical aspects and throwing in ‘stuff I read on the bog’ but it’s out there now. Conor Coady as a perfected essence of Nunology or something. Give me a break I haven’t typed anything for months and lockdown sends you loopy…or more loopy. But yeah. He’s done a right job our Nuno and staff.

You see…our erstwhile Gaffer in all his madness reminds me much more as a Philosopher than a Coach (I’ve waxed about this somewhere else) He’s got three or four other doughnuts to rag the team around Compton as well as a vibrant and focused backroom team. We see the synergy around the staff when Nuno gets some gong or other from Sky Sports. The backroom staff are holding the trophy. Nuno is in the background grinning that much it looks like the top of his head is about to fall off. Don’t get me wrong, Nuno is all about the statistical crap, the figures and the performance. I daresay he knows how to smash the keyboard to get around an excel spreadsheet. I bet he gets as involved as any other Coach. But where other Coaches struggle for some Philosophy they can impress on their club. Nuno came with one (I have said before) that he probably brewed up during those long hours standing under a crossbar in the hot sun watching the rest of his team play in front of him. I bet his head was itchy under that baseball cap that shaded his eyes. I guess his hands were slick with sweat under those foamy mad Micky Mouse hand goalkeepers gloves. I guess his mind was going mad out there, working out where his defenders were going wrong, where the opposition were wrong and right. 22 players in front and Nuno is watching all of it.

That’s where the best Philosophies are made. Under pain and pressure. But Coady…Here is the Philosophy made concrete. Here is where those hours in the sun winding and pacing in that goalmouth provided a kind of Alchemy in Nunos mind. Here he probably set into position all the criteria Nuno would want in a Captain of his team. He needs to be durable and tough. He has to have a certain morality about him, a certainty that what he is doing is right and correct. This Captain, in Nunos sun baked mind would have to be adaptable and flexible to the demands of his Manager and Coach. He will be called upon to do things that are unfamiliar and new to him. He will have to learn fast and under pressure. There will be times that it seems like the floor has opened up under this Captain and this Captain will see that there is no such thing as failure and mistakes only opportunities to learn. Nuno would kick the bottom of his Goal post probably and have a drink of water. He swills it around his mouth and spits it out onto the parched grass. Yes, his Captain would have to have some trait of aggression, not anger, not petulant displays of arrogant violence. Something more subtle but not lacking in power. Aggression is the fuel that will give you a gnats bollock of energy and strength when you most need it. A tackle or a shoulder, the odd jab in a rib. Letting the opposition know who you are, you aren’t scared no, amazed probably to be playing against some of the best footballers in the world. But having a kind of Stoic courage to think…well, I’m Conor Coady mate…it’s not an ego thing, it’s not really Coady on the pitch. It’s something Conor Coady, Nuno and company have built over the past few years. A player that to be honest scares me. It scares me that one day I will look at all my trials and tribulations and for one horrible second think…well if Coady trampled over the obstacles in his way during his career then perhaps I might have the energy also? Maybe? He sets the bar high, too high for most of us.

I did predict he would play for England at some point…way back in the day when Nuno first came. Yeah, people laughed and threw some abuse. I was cool with that. I remember the bloke from the BBC laughing at me in me own garden when I told him we would be playing European football in two years. I’m used to people laughing at things I write. It makes me laugh too. It mader me laugh when all you could hear during the England game was Coady yelling at people to move here or there, or to watch this and that. What will be the fall out from his first cap? Southgate will be looking confused at the game which was poor, the only stand out was Coady for me. It was the only dude I was watching to be honest. What Southgate, the staff and his peanut head will be asking themselves is ‘do we have the courage to build a team around Coady? Can we give a tacit recognition to his Coach that he has helped build a player of the future? An England Captain?’

Not for me to bother about to be honest. Whatever happens Conor Coady is going to battle for glory on some field or another with Wolves, England or another team. He will find success too. maybe not in Trophies or empirical glory but within himself I suppose.

When Coady was first moved into our defence I was amazed, scared but I trusted Nuno, even in those early days that it was the best possible place for Conor Coady, and Nuno saw in Coady his Philosophical foundation for his ideas. In Coady something to build on and use as a fulcrum for the rest of the team. I slapped the bloke in front of me in the Southbank when he waxed some insult or other about Coady.

“He’ll pick up a World Cup one day trust me pal” I said to him. I don’t know where that came from at all. They were some big hyper fat lyrics to ramble out to a half pissed confused looking doughnut with a slapped head. Maybe Coady will. Maybe I have some link to some great Metaphysical power that gives me powers to predict shit? Maybe I just talk so much shit some of it is bound to turn out correct at some point. I suspect the latter to be fair. But for you betting people out there I would ding a tenner on Coady picking up the World cup as Captain of the England team. See what the odds are. It’s a tenner for Gods sake, you lot are loaded.

Ah Conor Coady eh. I met him once, I had dog shit on my jeans.

Sorry I’ve been away a bit but the Laptop had some major issues and I had to save up a bit to get it fixed. Look forward (or not) to more content this season as I wax some madness about the new signings, Fosun, Nuno and all this Covid bollocks. I have written much in the months since we have lost our football. All on paper with a biro. I have lost sheets of stuff but it will turn up.