If I had a thousand people with me I would have stormed the gates of the Southbank and watched some of that game yesterday before the Cops with beards came and chucked me out. This shit isn’t right any more. I want to watch my team play and fight. I want to see Nuno, I want to feel some sense of belonging again and believing in something instead of fucking masks in shops, people nearly falling in the canal to avoid others. It has reached the point where all Englishmen get to when they have have a stick being slowly tapped on their head for the last god awful months. Thing is there comes a point when they take the stick away from that hand and start whacking them back. I’m feeling like that and it’s getting worse my friends.

Scott Parker looks like a shit Thunderbird puppet. What’s with that tie clip and the Hipster hair? Contrast that with how Mitrovich or whatever his name is…he looks like a cats been using his head as a scratch post, his head looks like a Sunday drivers favourite driving cushion. But how good is it to see our team if only on a shitty illegal stream? It’s still in transformation. They are still trying to work out what and who they are. Still trying to gain traction on that slippery hill of becoming something, anything. Fulham were trying as hard as us. You know there problems of course. An owner with an ego the size of Scott Parkers fucking tie pin, a defence that had more holes than a Politicians explanation. It was easy for other teams to whack a few past Fulham and yes, I know some predicted a rout of sorts as our new contract old faces (and new faces) would probably have a field day. Nah. That never happens for us. Fulham had a bit of the Brighton about them. Solid eleven men in their own half and us farting around playing crab ball as we tried to suss out how to play against this madness. We’ve been here before haven’t we? Remember? It wasn’t a resilient Fulham by any means. It was trying to shove your dick in a keyhole at times. Is the keyhole resilient? It’s just a keyhole, it’s just a Fulham trying to keep it’s snout in the Premier football trough.

It’s magic tile time for Wolves. Players moved here and there to not so much counter a placid Fulham but I think to provide data for Nuno and the backroom team. If we look at the whole Wolves side to be in a transformational period then we can look at it as being experimental in nature. So some things will work and some things will not. Here we needed indeed required someone to unlock the zeitgeist of the game. Whether Moutinho is nursing a knock or a lack of form I do think ‘Peak Moutinho’ would have been in his element here. He loves puzzles and Fulham were a Rubik cube of a puzzle today. Max Kilman is on and he provided a stolid kind of presence as Marcal still rubs his bad leg on the sidelines. I wonder what our new signings think of ‘Molinno’ as Nuno calls it? What is Molineux without us half pissed lunatics? These signings don’t know us and we don’t know them. It’s like a Tinder date so far. No emotion, no link between us so these signings are abstract entities as we are too I suppose.

First chances were the Saiss cross. Lovely deep and creamy, trifle of a cross, cherries, flakes of chocolate. When Saiss puts his foot through a ball it can be as lovely as a Neves poke or a Moutinho caress. Alas for Donk who is too generous and heads the ball back across goal to Jimmy but for a desperate Fulham head to cut the thing out. But there was no movement in midfield. It was packed out with heads running into other heads, having an elbow packed attempt to control that important bit of pitch. This was crying out for a tentative ugly punt up the pitch to one of our front three. Neto prowls, Jimmy works hard, DanPod is little isn’t he? The Holy trinity need time here. Time to work out the frequencies each other are operating on. But it’s getting there for sure. Much better than the West Ham game so there is movement towards a side sussing out what the fuck is going on between each other. Neto has a curler blocked by the Fulham goalie Areola whose name makes me laugh out loud because I am a simple coarse wretch. But I see you Neto. I see what you are slowly becoming. You are beginning to work this out aren’t you? Slow, baby steps, tentative runs, confidence growing, movement becoming instantaneous rather than formulaic.

At half time I was still happy at 0-0…well not happy but not crying about it. There was something of an upward trajectory about the game so far. There have been chances that just lacked a body in the right place or a shot here rather than there and it’s just fine tuning stuff for sure. Minimal details that just need to be sketched in. You can tell our team are not low on confidence but are just learning how to play again. How to regain that insane momentum we have had for the past seasons. You can see other sides struggling to make sense of not having a crowd in their stadiums. Results are surreal and strange, abnormal even. There is a mental struggle going on…apart from Manchester United of course where I don’t think the silence of a Virus locked down stadium is much different to a full stadium to be honest. Just after the restart a game of goal mouth ping pong at the Fulham end found Neto who had a stroke of the ball to control then bonged it in the bottom corner for a goal to us. I was relieved of course. Really I should have been jumping up and down elbowing people in the head and trying not to get my other leg broken, flicking the Vs at the 20 or so Fulhams at the bottom of the John Ireland stand then shutting my gob as VAR leaches away any joy we once had at instant gratifications, instant madness…

It’s three fucking points and I will take that all day. It’s not boring watching Wolves, it’s not insipid, it’s not dull. I don’t wonder what happened to the team that played last season. I don’t worry and I don’t moan. I thank God every day I am able to watch my team play football. Everything is in flux, everything is changing again and even if our team struggles at times to regain that madness we once had I welcome the challenge of supporting them and being part of this great insanity. Because as we learn more about ourselves as we try to negotiate the obstacles this new post lockdown world throws at us, we learn and we fight, we evolve and we bite, that’s what we do, that’s what Wolves do. We have a new player to replace Vinagre and his name is Rayan Ait Nouri who shall henceforth be called ‘Ayit’. I’m not going to wax words yet about him…I’ve got things to say about Captain Coady and Jimmy signing new contracts as well as some other stuff that has been bouncing around my head for the last year or so. I need catharsis that normally gets disgorged at a match. Last year I was asked to say a few words at a funeral for a dude I knew. He was a good bloke at heart even if he loved his medicine a little too much (which was why he died to be honest). But I struggled to find anything really good about him except he was easy to borrow money off. But I printed off this poem and put it in my pocket so if I had a blank head standing there at Bushbury Crems West Chapel while his family watched me I could ramble it off and get away with it. It might sound like I’m a right emotional twat but I found it in me Black funeral suit last Friday and it made me think of not going to see me team play. Here it is any way…it’s fair to say half the Chapel started blubbing and half were looking at me like I just whipped my dong out.

WHEN TOMORROW STARTS WITHOUT ME

When tomorrow starts without me
And I’m not here to see
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me

I wish you wouldn’t cry
The Way you did today
While thinking of the many things
We did not get to say

I know how much you love me
As much as I love you
Each time that you think of me
I know you will miss me too

When tomorrow starts with out me
Please try to understand
That an angel came and called my name
And took me by the hand

The angel said my place was ready
In heaven far above
And That I would have to leave behind
All those I Dearly Love

But When I walked through Heaven’s Gates
I felt so much at home
When GOD looked down and smiled at me
From his golden throne

He said This Is Eternity
And All I promised you
Today for life on earth is done
But Here it starts a new

I promise no tomorrow
For today will always last
And Since each day’s the exact same way
There is no longing for the past

So When Tomorrow starts without me
Do not think we’re apart
For every time you think of me
Remember I’m right here in your heart