You have to feel sorry for our Flakies. Poor bastards. I mean they’ve just spunked out 50 or 60 squid on their new PortuWolves third kit. They have probably spread their arses to Sky Sports to the tune of 15 squid so they can watch the match with their artisanal ales cooling in their fridge. They sit their fat arses down and try to understand a game of football so out of their comfort zones (mentally) that the fume is visible from their little acorn heads. Of course the ubiquitous smart phone is their inches away from their pudgy sticky fingers. It’s a real thing this phone. Now the Flakies have access to the fucking world mate. Social media is brilliant, it gives a voice (kind of) to the dispossessed, the angry and to be honest…the very thick. How often does Nuno have to reiterate that this team is transition? How often has he mentioned a policy change in the way we play? Transition. I’ll give you a definition of it.

Transition: a movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage, or style to another.

Quite easy to understand isn’t it? Even to the Spiceheads down the canal. They understand, they can suss it out. But that Smartphone eh? Thick fingers tap on the faux leather arm of their chair. They don’t understand transition, they don’t understand evolution either, I mean they are barely fucking evolved themselves to be honest. They are pale and sweaty, their new PortuWolves shirt is itchy, it’s uncomfortable across their big beer tits. They question everything with the few brain cells their Lockdown alcoholism has left them. They are the people that drive in the middle lane on a Motorway because well…fuck you. They are the people that walk into shops without masks on because well…fuck you. They are the people that will pay 15 squid regardless of the fact that our game is under threat because well….fuck you. They are the people that don’t only show off the brand new Wolves top they have just bought on Social Media, beer tits and fat bellies resplendent but they post the fucking receipt they got as well! Because…fuck you. They are the people that have never struggled, never fought for a thing in their lives, they are the people at an away game and it kicks off with locals in the pub and they are the ones hiding under tables or running out the door with their beers. Of course Social Media is the first port of call because it’s safe. They are the people who can’t wait to bristle and post their new Wolves merch, tickets, Cobold prints, books, bullshit because didn’t you know?…It makes them a much bigger fan than you mate. So their opinion is picked up by Flakies with less brain cells and before you know it it’s a fucking flood of flabby, pale anger, pitchforks against FrankenNuno as they storm the reception at Molineux. Nobody really knows you on there so the bile you have rising in your belly is easily transferred into pulses of negative energy to throw at the team. So it goes. There are names of course and you know who you are. You are the cunts we see sliding back off to the pub when we are 3-0 down. You are the cunts that spend most of your time on your phones while the match is going on because you can’t wait to pour out all that shit you have swilling around your heads. All you have is angst and negative grooves because we aren’t 3-0 up and it looks a bit testy a bit uncomfortable. You don’t like it because you have had everything you have ever wanted plonked on your plate without much fighting to get it. You are wankers mate “Nuno has taken us as far as he can it’s time for him to go” and that my friends was when my phone got fucking launched and I turned the internet off and when I see said person who wrote that I’m going to fucking torture them when I next bump into them.

The match, thank fuck. Still transitioning, still working hard, still evolving. Still scrapping points together too. You could see how hard that work was when they started to play. Leeds are a fucking good team as much as we dislike them. Bielsa has a good footballing head on his shoulders, he attacks, his team runs, presses high, you don’t have time to think and Wolves were in that state where they needed that hidden frequency that they are searching for, that communication that involves a nod and a wink, a movement off the ball, a poked through ball to break the dead lock. All variables we are working towards but man, we ain’t there yet for sure. But to go in at half time with the game all square was as good as a 2-0 lead for me. Leeds are everywhere and they get there fast too. You know of course it wouldn’t last long. There’s no way a team like Bielsas can keep that up. They reminded me very much of our play in our first season back in the Premier. Fast counter attacking, never giving an opposition player time on the ball. Pressing always pressing hard and high. Little Helder understands this shit of course, because that’s how WE USED TO PLAY. A couple of years back. Max Kilman is lovely, he mops stuff up like a seasoned pro, much still to learn, much still to understand but yes, give him game time, give him encouragement and support. Boly is waking up as well for sure. Physical and forensic with his movement again. He is getting his Mojo back slowly but surely. Halftime is usually a time to reach out to other people I know and find out what they think, see if my mind is on point about the play and I’m not confusing myself by looking too much into everything. But tonight, no. I understand perfectly thanks. Leeds ARE a great team and despite a few dubious passes into thin air and that quasi dysfunctional look of our team I felt good and confidant that we were going to take Leeds apart in the second half. Because Leeds walked off the pitch at the break and looked fucking knackered to be honest. So it’s 0-0 and we have weathered a storm for sure. Leeds have big expensive hard ons and were slapping those hard ons on Wolves foreheads for 45 minutes. But the blood was flowing out of them for sure, they looked limper and limper as the game ground to the end of part one. No amount of coaxing and fluffing was going to give it them back. I suspect that this is the essence of the team now. To hold the ball, to keep the ball and to await the fruits of possessive football, and the endless tip tap of the ball between Wolves players is Nuno and the Coaching staffs new mantra. It’s attrition football. We wear teams out. That’s why the Kilman situation interests me, the Semedo acquisition, Marcal et al. All players that can learn or already know the intricacies of the possession based game. You get tired chasing balls. You don’t get so tired when you have possession of it.

The dogma of the Nunology bears fruit almost from the off. Now there is a little space and a little splinter of light seems to appear between these teams and Wolves are suddenly illuminated and lively. Now is the WolfTime of course. Gaps and spaces to move into, to let unfold what they have learned at Compton. All of a sudden things are back to normal. Conor Coady puts one of those delicious crosses boinging up the pitch for DanPod to grab a hold of. DanPod was pure DanPod, making room for himself in the physicality of the Leeds man on his back. He puts in a ball to Saiss who sticks it in the net. We don’t cheer of course. VAR has sucked all that madness from the game. May the Good Lord torture and give pain to all those responsible for this fucking disgrace of a thing. Goal disallowed after the computer algorithms at Castle FA and the bald headed Pedophiles that run it decide on an offside. Which it was, but piss off any way.

But it’s moving in the right direction. Leeds are stuttering now. Those spaces are getting bigger and Wolves have been told what to do about those spaces when they pop up. It’s Kilman who strangles the ball away and dinks it up the pitch to Jimenez who does all the Coca-Cola ‘It’s the Raul Thing’ and wallops the ball goalwards only for that poor bastard Phillips to get a lovely touch on it and we are a goal to the good. 3 points, best start to a season since 1979 mate.

Despite this win, a hard fought win, against a great team, with a Wolves team in a transitional period, a bench full of tasty young players learning and loving this Nuno madness…some ay happy. When things are going tits up like under Lambert, Hoddle you name a name I expect fume and anger. I would get back from a match in those days and be asked how we did. I knew one person who I could open my heart too and have a good moan. But I never did it in public and I still don’t. My feelings about certain players and the Coaching of it stay inside locked away. I only wax about positive things as much as I can. With this team, so far this season and indeed under Nuno since he came I haven’t had a moment where I have though that we were losing the plot in any way. Losses to me now aren’t that ball punching yourself on a packed 559 Bus back to Wenny. Years ago I would be hard pressed to gleam any positives from some of our Pre-Nuno games. Now we have a dodgy few minutes and all I see are opportunities to learn. Who was it that said ‘I love making mistakes because that’s the only way I learn”? God knows, but it’s an apt and accurate way of looking at misfortune. Nuno has had these players for a time period measured in fucking days not months, you could extrapolate and say that he has had mere hours with them if you insert COVID into the equation too. A highly fucking dysfunctional time and yet we can still grind out a victory against a team like Leeds. Even though I hate them I am glad they are back in the top flight. They are a fanbase with a madness that I see in Wolves and not many others, it is good to see them back up here and playing us. It’s like old times. I wish dearly I was up there for the game winding their fans up and rolling around in the streets with them having earnest debates about our respective teams and Cities. But alas for the football of these times. Transition eh? At least we can write this season off a little, at least the first bit any way. We aren’t going to look anything like the finished Idea of THE NUNO until after Xmas at least. When Nuno has had some time with these strangers, these new additions. But please all you Flakies, keep being bitter on Social Media, keep having a moan as you rip off your new PortuWolves tops and throw it in the wesh. After my angst at reading your shit I always laugh and point at you. I know who you are…don’t stand by me. We ay all Wolves ya know. Some just pretend.