Steve Bruce. The man with the inside out face, Newcastle United. Where the propaganda of their whole idea is much bigger than the evidence. In Penrith years ago I threw a vocal Geordie incensed that I dared to question the veracity of the whole idea of Newcastle. He couldn’t process this. All Geordies are beautiful happy people…but it’s never like that, it’s always unwholesome. As I grabbed him around the throat and threw him down some stairs. There were screams, shouting, a few punches thrown, threats, Michael stop it and I’m in full Wolverhampton mode. Everybody gets whacked…

How many draws have we had against Old Batter Bits head? A lot I think. Bruce has kind of got a handle on everything Nuno has in plan form for him. I think Bruce knows us better than we know him. I suspect. As much as we can throw all the names and shite against him, he knows us better than we know him. But there is Nunoism there definitely. Shape is still strong, players still getting used to the newness. Are they late in clicking? Yes, they probably are a little behind a few teams in terms of holistic togetherness but man, we are getting there. Ruben adjusting his leap for our leveller was a sight to behold, again. How lucky are we to have him. Five unbeaten games in the Premier League now. A massive effort in this season of Septicness.

Lascelle that dodgy twisty little sod puts the Horsepunchers one up. Our efforts on keeping tabs on him were below par. He had a free run at that one definitely and we are dozy again, is it time to play football Dad? Still in bed with the duvet wrapped around their heads. Or maybe our Ideas are greater than our football? Maybe the ideas are that great our poor team can’t quite grasp what’s going on in the initial start to the game. There is a cautious feeling about Wolves this season I haven’t really seen too many times since we started to flex our football muscles by popping up to the heady heights of the Premier League. Perhaps we struggle to remember the shapes Nuno and his team want from the team. In a sense we overthink and overplan things? Perhaps we worry too much about what the opposition bring to the game rather than impressing our own minds on the match. Who knows?

How cool was Saiss again? Never a headline grabber but boy does that man throw himself around a bit. Saved us a point he did. Saiss shapes in front of goal are insane. He’s not even supposed to be there but maybe somewhere else but there he is. Saiss, love him to bits thank you. Cast your eyes back a month or so ago when we seemed to have lost all the momentum we had from last season. Heads were low and hanging. Nuno under pressure for the first time? Yes, of course. But that’s his job, to handle that sort of shit and try and come to some kind of consensus with his team about how to patch the idea up, bandage it, throw it back out there to see how it fares. It’s not massively exciting to see your team under the cosh at moments like during this game. You tend to think dark thoughts because we have this modus operandi us Wolverhampton folk to enter into any kind of sporting altercation all guns blazing. To start punching people first and then asking questions later. We go all in. Our team tend not to lately. Again how much of that is neutralising a team that are wounded to some degree by rattling around the nether regions of the Premier League. In danger of the drop no less. Nervously gnawing their own leg they are of course going to be a team that are a bit adrenalised. A little bit ‘woah’. Of course every team has that little bit of interior mind angst when they play us don’t they? They get a bit lairy and focused while our little band of Portuguese Men of War tend to be a bit confused by it. Of course again, if we were there shouting them on they would quickly get the feeling that anger, perhaps some sort of controlled rage was what we needed in that first half. Some rage yes, a little bit of a fight back. Some neckness maybe, risks, insanity? The silly twat up the road was waxing about it when I took the dogs out this morning. Why don’t Neves and Moutinho get in the box more? We need attacking midfielders (even if Nuno doesn’t play like that). Remember the massive holes Big Alf used to leave in midfield when he fancied a few minutes up that end?

Whatever Nuno and his team have done with the squad it is more balanced for sure, not totally balanced yet but there are signs and movements that kind of tell me that everything is good and above board. Nothing to get really worried about at all. There is an impetus here and the shoots of what Nuno wants are starting to slowly reveal themselves. Maybe that intent was Neves finally making a foray up their end. Neves has really had a role to play for the past few seasons. Better suited to sit in from of our back three and split up attacks when they come in. A part of his game which is really under the radar. We expect him to be dangerous and hang around just off the opposition box waiting for a spilled cross or an attempted clearence. It’s rare for sure. The idea is he stays very deep. Get’s forward when the time is ripe. Until then do what you do best and split up attacks, give our defence some depth. Now with the clamour for a decent CB becoming louder perhaps that will give Ruben the ability to get forwards more. Perhaps the whole groove could do with Jonny getting slowly back to full fitness and Semedo continuing to flourish. Two vitally important parts of the whole idea. They can provide when fully fit, a width to their play that will allow Traore and Neto to become tighter inside. Notice most of our goal chances and goals have come from that moment when our Jonnys and Semedos start to pull the play wider and start to grab their defenders and draw them wide. Giving room to Adama and Pedro, leaving them small areas where they can erupt into an attack or bamboozle them with a fast incisive attack, a chance. Nearly every Wolves chance last night came when that play got a lot wider. Newcastle couldn’t keep up the momentum required to pin Semedo and Jonny back. It takes much energy. In the second half the Horsepunchers let their foot off the gas and the pressure was on. Jonny sits back and has a breather then a Horsepuncher moved up, pushed him further and further inside. Pressure. They try it with Semedo and he’s wise, every pass to him increases width and they both move upfield hugging the touchline, drawing the Newcastle defence into wider indefensible positions. We are sitting back and tiring teams out by making them put pressure on Jonny and Semedo. That pressure cannot be kept up. It takes quality players to put against our wingbacks. You can’t keep that pressure up indefinitely you have to either eventually replace that knackered player with a fresher one with the same quality or keep a tired player on and watch Semedo and Jonny slowly push back and widen the field of play. Maybe. I dunno.

I’m of a mind that poor Willian doesn’t quite grasp what’s going on sometimes. He was a lonely figure. A good seven out of tenner. A good sort. Keeping Jimmys side of the bed warm until Jimmy decides to get back in. I think he knows it too. Everything is too fast and frenetic at times. He seems stuck in some sort of ketamine daze at the absolute madness of Premier League football. I mean nobody gave him the ball much but perhaps he wasn’t in the right place? His movement wasn’t Jimmy-like? It’s a shame but the Premier League isn’t for everyone and it was nice to see Nuno give him some luxurious extra minutes on field when to be fair I would have put Fabio on, give him some minutes as he’s going to be the future of our squad surely? Perhaps Nuno is waiting for Jimmy to get back. Him as a Nine, Fabio a Ten, Jimmy oozing experience for the young blood to lap up and in this idea I get a bit dizzy. How do Jimmy and Fabio get that groove going? Minutes. I want to see Fabio thrown into the fire of experience. The minutes are precious, I want him to see everything that happens in a Premier League match. I want him to suffer the tribulations of negativity and to develop a hard skin, harder shins and a titanium ego then I want to unleash him into the care of Jimmy to learn and to develop. They are the future here.

In all it is a shame we are not up there. I could even deal with the Newcastle experience if we could just have a little glance at some proper football, watch the team, have a shout and a scream. I miss it more than I let on. Steve Bruce will go back to staring at Chip shop menus, Geordies will carry on thinking they are lovely beautiful people, we will carry on being Wolverhampton. But there is a difference in the two of us. We are building something insane in that team. Something that is going to shut many people up next season. I see it, it’s there, I can smell it in the air wafting down the canal from Broad street all the way down to Wednesfield. It’s not ‘being positive’ and it’s not me happy clapping although there is some meat in those accusations. There is a feeling inside that we have weathered a storm somewhat and are just about to see some bright blue sky poking through the shroud grey skies that seem to sit there fat arse above us for weeks at a time. I feel good. James Brown time soon and even though I don’t bet I’m putting two quid on Wolves beating Manchester City next week.

• 

I had some experiences in Southampton over the years you know. Some of them were great and some of them were absolute nightmares. Not all football related either. I mean footballing wise it all gets hyper weird especially when we play them. This game was important to us in many ways. On the one hand it was another Premier League fixture, mid season or thereabouts, not really a ’boutique’ match for all the IPA supping doughnuts. no real chance of a punch up for those that way inclined either. As, I suspect, nobody can really be bothered too much about Southampton or them-us. But it was important after the FA cup fixture up here that we ascertain who we are again and what we are about even if at the moment we are reeling after a few horrible results. It was a chance to make a statement I suppose.

Watching all the Southampton players warming up on JeffBezosTV is frightening. Who are these dudes? It was scary enough that the dogs were hiding under the table and crying because Karen Carney was on but watching these lot warm up was bloody scary. They looked like computer game warfare villains. Russian Rebels with a Nuclear bomb or something. One of them (Romeu) has a nose like a dog toy. Danny Ings looks like something has been eating him and left him half finished. Now I had to dip into Social Media a bit to work out what the current zeitgeist was about our squad. Who’s playing where and why. You can glean some great bits of info off SocMed and it’s worth following and reading some points of view that you wouldn’t normally think about. I did see my Conor Coady has been getting some stick. I laughed. Even some people I know quite well and respect their opinion are having a go at him. I laugh some more. Leave my Coads alone, he is great, love him, couldn’t imagine a Wolves side without him to be honest. You have to remember that he can only play as well as the team. Singling out players to have a poke at is bad form. It’s a Liverpool fan thing and we don’t want to be like that surely? Congratulations Conor 100 games in the Premier League. That is top shit mate, you are playing football with and against some of the best players in the UK and Europe and you can proudly stand shoulder to shoulder with those men. Thank you for playing for our club, we are very proud.

Same rubbish being chucked at Nuno. If you have any balls stand by your convictions and spray paint a bedsheet and get up the Molineux to vent your gizzard please. Let me look who you are. My mates? They will get a good slap on the back of their neck for a head wobble. Doughnuts. Nah moan all you want, I’m fed up of arguing about the pros and cons of individual players performances. It’s a holistic thing, I’ve waxed about that enough. Jesus Christ that Romeu is on the screen again and the dogs wail. But Wreck-It-Ralphs Saints team are a great looking thing on paper. They have able bodies and are not averse to chucking the ball about with some style. For a while.

I decided to play music instead of listening to Al McMoist…it’s hard to understand what the fuck he is on about most the time anyway but the first five minutes of him gargling his oaty Scottish accent in my ears while I looked for a suitable playlist was enough. Ugh. Saints of course have that high pressing, high energy thing going on. They run around like lunatics and are all over us. We aren’t having a great time of it. Semedo looks like he’s just woke up. Traore is having a moan. Moutinho is pretending he’s not there and just a hologram. Neves boots a ball to nobody. Rui is Rui, perfect Zen. You know a Goalie is doing a good job when you don’t have to talk about them. Then Ings whacks the ball into our net and it’s 1-0. Testy and tasty. I mean even I didn’t see him turn up in the box to hoof that bugger in yet alone Coady who was behind some Southampton neck. It’s all very bloody nervy again. Nothing is flowing here for Wolves at all. That physical fast Southampton game isn’t a tactical master stroke by any means. It’s just hard to garner any kind of response when you are constantly chasing the ball…slowly and without much success in getting it back. When we did have it the ball was recycled back sometimes anti clockwise and sometimes clockwise. Traore has a run. Falls over. Willian our loan Striker looks like he’s selling double glazing on the Lunt. Lovely to see Jonny back God Bless his heart. He’s having the odd nibble at getting forwards a bit but there are mental gaps among our team in this half. There are miscommunications and errant moving. There isn’t any flow and even less style. But we know this isn’t Wolves. My mind goes back to the Gulag Barnsley matches we had a few seasons ago when our shiny players wondered what the hell was going on. Same here. The Southampton rapid ball recycling is confusing our players. I think perhaps we tend to approach games too softly in the opening 20 minutes or so. It’s all damage limitation and hastily cleared hoofings, the odd foul, chasing the ball again while we try to warm up a bit, remember what we are here for. Languid is a good word, laid back, chilled and a little concerned. But we also had the odd chance here and there. A few movements where if our team would have picked that pass or that run, then maybe a goal, a chance. Most of these efforts were fluffed. Again, just a little out of sorts. Minor points. But put enough of these minor cock ups together and you start to get a pile of them and the weight of them can drag your team down to their knees before you know it. It was total flip ya wig stuff from Southampton as the half went on. I wouldn’t say there was anything artistic or beautiful about their football but it was a stolid and maybe even Stoic football. Overboiled to fuck. Stodgy even but you couldn’t move that ball away them without overstraining. Which we did. There were a few moments and they were ‘moments’ when I thought Saints were looking a little bit too slick and we indeed were facilitating that slickness by ball watching a lot and taking too much notice of their game instead of our own. Traore was getting shoved off the ball a lot which is weird seeing as he has the foundation of a concrete bollard. Even Donk got confused at times. His head nearly fell off tracking a few passes that cut him out of the game. The goal from Spice Boy Ingy was coming and we at home, probably the team there knew it. There was a mosh pit of movement in our box, a ball in, confusion, Ings buries it beyond Rui. A note about Rui….I’m glad we dont talk about him much, he does his job, he goes home. What a bloke, the ‘Everyman’ of the Wolves team.

It was still really itchy on the pitch for us. The piped in music and crowd noise over the PA reminded me of the film ‘Killing Fields’ set in Cambodia during the Pol Pot regime where the population was herded into concentration camps to be re-educated and to work. Slavery, political terrorism. The loudspeakers in the camps blared out the speeches and the propaganda. Hearing the players gasp, groan, moan, scream in pain is wrong. It’s an existential nightmare, a dystopia football. It’s as if Wolves are playing at gunpoint under threat. Scared to get the ball and lose it in case ‘they’ see and ‘they’ wont be pleased. Atmosphere insane. But that’s only because we are playing shit. I get on Whatsapp and moan to Horace, “Traore needs to pull his fucking finger out” and it’s a jab of crap a barb Traore does not deserve but it’s there any way. It’s deciding not to argue with that dickhead in the pub but nut him. Bonk. Everything is like a Joy Division wailing video, hooded figures, banners that don’t really mean anything spread out over the seats like shrouds. I put the kettle on and stare out of the kitchen window and I bet you any money there are hundreds of Wolves fans doing that right now. The kettle going clack clack clack as it warms up. Fucks sake. One fucking nil. Fuck off.

So Nuno looks pensive and emotional, not stressed but holding in the adrenalin as he watches. Control. He is in some sort of Zen state where he has to control his emotions, he has to control everything, defeat the urge to gesticulate, remonstrate, order and arrange. His hands would be alive, his arms flinging around, looking to his staff behind him in some whirlwind of madness. It would end in him running on the pitch at some point to punch someone or love them. I bet he’s giving them a right lecture. Not shouting or aggressive but controlled and under control, a plan formulated, a response to our lack of intent and danger. Plans have to be organised and unemotional. I would love to have been a fly on the wall.

Well you could tell something had galvanised them. All of a sudden Traore had a flea up his arse again and started taking players on, beating them and getting up the other goal. Semedo was making movements upfield. All of a sudden it all seemed familiar again. Oh. Bloody hell. Oooh. Pleasant noises instead of Hookys dirge like basslines. Semedo is on the edge of their box and crosses. Bertran their defender has got his arm in the way. Penalty to us. The Southampton dude is beside himself and I have this weird feeling in my belly. Empathy. I feel his pain for some reason and this confuses me. That’s what Lockdown is doing to us. Turning us slowly insane bit by bit revolving around and around on the merry go round of football…..Neves pokes it home. 1-1 have that you cun….oops.

Its that weird Wolves thing where you know we are going to score in a minute. We’ve felt it so many times and rarely have I seen it in other teams. Something just happens and you know the match has changed for the better and we are going to win and it’s just a matter of when and who and how. Pedro fucking Neto eh. Let the market for footballers start rising again and revenue flowing and we will fucking dick some club out of a shit load of cash for Neto. That means a couple of seasons at least. Lovely. Ebanks Blake eh lets mention him to piss off the youngs and wind them up hahahaha. Lovely goal. Willian was busting a bollock for it but Neto didn’t have any time for that kind of shit. He steezed the ball in from a thin angle. He was dead happy it’s fucking great to see someone enjoy their football. He doesn’t give a fuck does he? Brilliant.

Nuno. Final whistle. Still controlled, still fighting it down. But relief, not for him but for the team and the people that have put their trust in him. Success not for him but for everyone, me, you, them and perhaps a little bit for him too maybe. Perhaps he allowed himself to feel some pride, a slither of joy. He holds tightly to one of his staff and buries his face in his shoulder and here we see for a moment some of the real Nuno but still he has to hide himself away so nobody can see him, the real Nuno, who knows? Lockdown man, it makes you over analyse stuff maybe and perhaps we are all over emotional and ready to crack. Three points any way I’ll have that ta. Their Coach is ranting about the hand ball, he looks like he is ready to start crying. His face is all red.

I’ve always thought that among Wolves fans and supporters I hold a very rare place. You see I am one of the 348 fans that didn’t go to watch Wolves in the FA Cup against Chorley…that infamous early 80’s FA Cup where nearly 197,291 Wolves fans braved the wastes of the bitter North to watch us get humbled by a bunch of no neck clarnets that were Chorley FC or whatever. So you don’t need to listen to me about my thoughts about our current loss of form and belief. What has gone wrong? We were all shiny and beautiful. We had a Nuno with a Holy beard. We had Chinesers who made all the right noises (when they can be arsed to make any noise). We had shiny sexy players whose names ended in ‘O’. We had Social Media accounts that had sexy Wolves photos, new clueless fans who haven’t got a clue about football yet alone Wulvoism. Families for fucks sake. Families of people we had never seen before scrambling up the subway or Molineux alley dressed in everything the club shop could throw at them. They couldn’t put it on fast enough. The empty shirt wrappers swirled around the sky and were shoved in every available hole they could find. All those new Karens and Steves aren’t happy mate. We are suddenly shit. Now bear with me here I haven’t written about football in ages…shit…Raul dude, I wept for you. Strength dude.

But are we really? What makes the difference here? What has gone wrong? You will have to excuse me for not knowing quite what goes on in the plush corridors of Molineux or Compton. Some of course have inside lines, whispers that have come to them from people in the know. Information about this player and that player. Or about what Nuno thinks this week. These people are the best ones to go and read if you want. They have websites where they have slick graphics and slicker haircuts. Beards too most of them. These are the people that do actually care about the results because their dickhead revenue is closely connected to how Wolves are performing. Clicks mate, views and traffic. So they make baity comments to wind you up, get you clicking and interacting with their crap. Journos man, what a bunch of rare poor bastards they are.

I’ve walked around Molineux much during this Lockdown. It’s not a big hassle to walk up the cut from Wendyland and arrive at the stadium. It nestles in the shadow of the City and is ‘comfortable’ in it’s position. I say comfortable because many stadiums look like they have just been dumped like a shit load of Lego in the only available space they had. Molineux looks like it grew there. I can’t explain the absolute joy of seeing it and every time I went up and sat quiet outside I felt that all the bullshit just couldn’t actually wash over what Molineux and Wolves are to some of us. It was my playground as a kid. We used to ‘break in’ on some nights just so we could sit in the Southbank in the dark, safe from the madness happening outside in the world. Passing the odd soggy cigarette between us. In those days of course we could tell the rot was beginning to settle into the club. We had just won the League cup but we knew…you could feel it through your feet as you scrambled up the wall in Molineux alley to get into the dark and the vastness of the old ground. I don’t feel like that now. I don’t feel the same as I did in those days. I don’t feel a darkness settling in. I don’t feel that bad moon rising again. Not yet. I still trust Nuno, I will always trust him even when things seem to have a constant darkness about them. He is our Leader, he leads us, we follow.

It’s just gone a bit normal. I watched the Southampton game, not in a rage, not even that engaged with it to be honest. What was that game? What are any of the games this season? We knew this year was going to be transitional. Shapes, players, tactics all jumbled up into something that resembles (there’s a keyword) a football team. In essence during our first and bits of the second season in the Premier League we were spoiled (at times) by the efficacy of our intent. What flowing beautiful football this was. We certainly put the wind up a few teams, the FA and the Reptiles in the media. I mean we loved it but by Christ we didn’t really recognise any of it. Away days playing the likes of Liverpool and Arsenal? Big Six teams. Humbling them sometimes. We had a message from the Holy Bearded one, “Make your ideas greater than theirs” and we did too. Sometimes. But to make these ideas greater and more betterer than theirs we have to formulate them. We have to create them, mold them, develop them, even nurture them while they are in their most vulnerable state. We could have done that this year and I half expected everything to go…not brilliant but I was sure the absolute professionalism of the people that make up the brain of our club would stagger through the rampant crookedness of the VAR problem and the Septicness of the Covid aggravation and we would emerge in May still in the Premier League (albeit a bit low down) but still there and chugging along while the Nuno continues to try and smash some sort of shape out of his team. I said at the start of this season we should write it off. It’s a project and now it’s time to look forensically at the project and see where we are. Are we shit? No, but things have to change, things have to develop. Ideas have to be re-interpreted.

What’s it like for the teamio? Those poor bastards we dragged from the wastes of Spain and Portugal, the warm sunny places we grabbed the odd player from? Poor sods. Playing in an empty stadium with piped in crowd noise. Playing in games no-one really cared much about. Every boot of the ball echoes around the empty stands where me and you should be, half pissed, shouting like lunatics or just standing there like doughnuts depending on what was happening. Every match must be like some weird rehearsal where the seats are devoid of life and every shape you throw into the blackness of the auditorium just gets swallowed by the darkness. How do you perform? How do you actually scrape any kind of intent up when it seems like it’s all some weird dream where you are running up the tunnel to play footy and you’re completely naked and everybody is laughing and you want to grab a ball to cover your pale flapping willy but nobody will give you the ball…How the fuck do you work in an environment like that? Now extrapolate the fact that many of these players haven’t got a clue where they are only that it’s fucking cold, the shops are shit and you’re not allowed to see your family back home in case you get Covid and the shit storm turns into something a lot more crazy. How do you perform? How do you give your all to a club you don’t even know yet? What is the Wolves way? What is a Wolverhampton. The answers for these new recruits are hard to find. They don’t know why they are here yet only that they ARE here. But it’s easy to point fingers, much easier now the intertwat is here. I’m not going to cuss people who are losing their minds over the recent results. They have fragile minds, especially during this time of the Virus and the draconian fumbling that it brought with it. These minds are used to being social and ‘out’ but now they are not social and ‘in’. When people spend time with themselves there is a tendency to not like what we are and what we have become. We find ourselves lacking and we don’t like it. It makes us angry and that anger has to come out and Social Media is exactly the place where you can vent. So we do.

It’s all good I promise. It will all come good. Look at Nuno up there at the top of this page. Do you really doubt him? Do you really think some new appointment would galvanise this team of (at the moment) disparate spirits? Remember that Nuno is our Leader. He is reticent to speak much because what he has to say is heavy with love and emotion and many would not understand those kinds of words. He would love to speak clearly and honestly with us but ya know…not many would grasp the larger more complex interpretations he could offer. Do you remember the Bristol match and Bennos header? Our first real battle with Nuno at the wheel. So what do we do now? Abandon him in his hour of need? The teams need? Do we cast him aside and start to play the endless merry-go-round of managerial appointments? Or do we do what Wulfrunians do and shoulder the weight with everybody else and just plough on up the hill until the ground levels out a bit and we don’t have to push so hard? Be. Fucking. Loyal. As much as I hated Paul Lambert I never once cussed him out online while he was our Coach. I saved that until he went. I supported him. With Nuno it is easier not to say anything negative about him because I love him, it’s as simple as that. He has given me hope and joy that no one else ever has. He made me skip up to Molineux with a spring in my step I haven’t had since Bully played. He has inspired me, taught me, made me think, made me cry and laugh and I’ve never even met him. He is just a dot who runs onto the pitch when we won, right up to the Southbank and yet there were times when I was that happy seeing him run towards us I openly wept and tears ran down my face. Wolves. Nuno. Us. He has given us everything we love about football over the past few seasons and now when he needs us…we aren’t there. How fucking fickle we are. A bad run and we lose it completely and want to throw our Leader under a Bus. For fucks sake, what have we become? Can we not forgive a seemingly errant team selection? The performances? A few weird signings that aren’t pulling their sun tanned fingers out?

Grow some bollocks. Nuno is THE NUNO to me and he always will be. My mate Graeme is a multi millionaire and at the moment he is working for Astra Zeneca the vaccine people. I spoke with him last week and seeing as he is a very successful dude with his head screwed on I asked him about why he was so successful and he said this to me…

“It’s all about time and the willingness of a Boardroom to allocate to me five years, six if possible for me to impress on a disparate business, a plan, a route map for success. If they hold their nerve they will get at least a 20% increase in value”

Mad business talk I understand a little of. Time. Give Nuno the space and time to do what he does best, Give him support and give him your love too. Moan all you want, that’s cool too. Social Media is a fucking strange place that bears very little resemblance to reality so it gives you a good place to vent your spleens when shit goes wrong. Continue to do it, it’s cathartic, it makes you think your opinion is valued even if it just gets lost in the vitriol broth with everybody elses opinion. Don’t start to dislike or even hate people that do want a change in the managerial staff. They are people living in a strange surreal environment like all of us, it’s just that they are having a harder time of it than the rest of us at the moment. But stretch out a hand and make sure that they are good. We are Wolves at the end of the day and some of you know that when the going gets tough you gather closer together. There are some that look forwards to the fight, there are some that are a little scared and trembly and there are those that just slink off into the darkness because they haven’t got the courage to face their own fears. This season is going to be a bigger crock of shit than we think if we don’t hold our nerves and pull together. I’m not talking about the day trippers and the noobs. I’m talking about ‘us’ and you know who you are. Jeff? Don’t you dare have any thoughts about what we fans think about Nuno. Don’t listen to the madness mate. Don’t start to get all shaky legged because a few flakies are cussing The Nuno. Have some balls and see the project through. If Nuno has had enough we fail and become nothing again. But at least we had a good go at it, we tried. Then you can rebuild a little and get a new narrative flowing. But right now? Stay with him and I think he will give you the world to be honest. Stand, don’t run, support your gaffer, support your team. Out of darkness cometh fucking light mate.