At the top of the John Ireland stand, the roof. It’s a strange look up there. I helped my mate weld some of the supports for the floodlights a couple of years ago. It was well dodgy and scary. Take away the fact I had been lumping pieces of steel up there for three hours. Heart beating like a Rat in a Greggs bin. Now a chance to have a good look. It was beautiful of course. The Emerald green pitch, the stands below me. Beautiful. I could see me Moms house, I could see where I was born, Low Hill, the Shropshire hills. South Staffordshire, Cannock chase. I sat there for a bit trying to fight the urge to throw myself off. Don’t worry, I always have that feeling when I am high up. Sorry to the people who would have liked me to jump hahahahahaha.
I always think about that day when something ‘Fosunny’ happens to the club and it kind of gives me a nice feeling even if I feel like storming into Molineux towers and smashing a few desks up. So Julen won’t be arriving. Fair play to him, look after your Dad. I can’t say a bad thing about his choice to stay in Spain and be a Son rather than arrive over here and deal with the absolute shit show Fosun have plopped onto our already aching heads. What the fuck are they playing at?
Thing is, most of the doughnuts I know have already entrenched themselves in the infomadness and the Interwebs and been throwing around names for a new Coach. Good names, solid performers who would have grabbed this team around the scruff of the neck and shook it up to the next page of our progression. These would have been dynamic choices, brave choices too. But Executives at Premier League clubs are used to making brave choices aren’t they? Not this one apparently. Pedro Martins for fucks sake. Sean Dyche, even poor old Mumo has been mentioned. It’s ok Mumo go back to bed it’s ok. Drink this it will help you sleep, stop fucking howling like a Wolf, it’s gone, dusted, finished. We remember the Albion game when you just looked at your hands and did nothing. What the fuck are Fosun doing? Mumo again? Fuck off, him going nearly gave me a depressive episode darker than a Miners armpit.
Fosunning of course. Chinese investment is dynamic only when you account for the ready cash they can throw at a club. It’s their mantra of course. Power through financial jiggery pokery. You want to throw weight around a Western orientated sports business? Let’s build a team to do it. Lets get people in who seem like they have a clue what they are doing. Lets get this team into some of those Board rooms in Europe and see how they fare. They have been eaten alive haven’t they? The Adama debacle, the beautiful players we have thrown back to mainland Europe, the Compton medical team, Neto being thrown back onto the pitch. I could type it all out but these are just some of the cock ups I have in my feeble mind at the moment. They have alienated most of their fanbase….the important ones anyway. Its just fuck up after fuck up. I mean this is the point where when I started writing about Wolves kind of expected us to be in that top six spot playing big European teams. Because the project start was a good one. Europa League, playing and beating the top six teams with aplomb and beauty. Great football, good comms with the players, movement, evolution.
But what we have now, isn’t that. Now we stand on the cusp of possible relegation. We have seen this happen before of course. I’m talking about us not ‘them’. They haven’t got a fucking clue of course. They are the people that believe what the club or the media tells them. We have a better idea of course. We were there in the early eighties, nineties, noughties you name it. Bin there got the fucking tayshirt. Wolves don’t do a little slide down the snake, they do the fucking hurtling into the abyss kind of disasters. We don’t do angst by halves mate. We are sniffing the air here, trying to match the same scents we had when Morgan and Moxey were fiddling with their crotches in the Billy Wright executive lounge while Mad Mick was Mad Micking with the team. Poor Terry Connor shoehorned into the vacant slot. This is Glen Hoddle time or Solbakken, this is where we get fucking Zenga’d into a mad few seasons hurtling around Carlisle or Huddersfield again.
We need a big change of tack. Fosun need to be brave here and take a long hard look at how they are doing business. It’s always tough to be introspective especially business wise. But Fosun need to look very hard at the team they have assembled here. I think they are fucking way out of their depth to be honest. I’m not going to report some of the stories I have heard off people that are firmly in the know. I operate on the fringes of the whole show you know. I listen to what people at the club tell me. I listen to Business men and Women that rattle around the Millionaires club at Molineux. I sell these people art of course, and for some reason they like to talk to me about things they have seen and heard. I will keep their remonstrances in secret. But the general atmosphere at the club and those dark corridors under the Billy Wright are not good. There are whispers that the team Fosun have given a practically free hand to don’t know what the fuck they are doing.
My opinion? For what it’s worth? The clubs executive structure needs a massive overhaul. Fosun need to weed out the people who are not performing and get them out of the club as soon as possible. Fosun know who these people are and they need to be on point with showing them the door. Jeff Shi of course is not one of them. He is just a Gonk put in place to be the eyes and ears of Fosun-China. A Money man, a Business man, but not a football man. Jeff Shi is probably just an administrator really, at heart. A Manager of business. He can throw himself around a spreadsheet, can employ people, move personnel around maybe. But Chinese ideas aren’t worth shit in this madhouse we call Molineux. What we need are Sharks not Dolphins. People who can walk into the Boardroom at Barcelona and make those Spaniards start shaking in their Gucci loafers. People who know what they want out of life and are willing to hitch their colours to the Wolves and start to break a few kneecaps in their day to day work. We haven’t got those people. Watch the video again where the Executive staff chat about their ideas. Look past the glitzy business footage, the info graphics and the sweeping shots of ‘people at work at desks’. Watch the videos closely and the people in them. They are dribblers and bullshitters. All the right keywords are bandied about but there’s no meat and veg there. It’s all fakery, it’s all shite and vacuous bollocks. The people in the Presidents Lounge at Molineux know this. They are hardened Black Country business people, they know fluff and bullshit when they see it.
I don’t even have to provide evidence for this, we see it in every bit of news about Wolves at the moment. There we are sniffing the air again like Wolves in a Forest. We have fucking been there mate. The smells coming out of Molineux and Compton at the moment are triggering off memories that all the shiny media bullshit can’t exactly cover up. This season might be a duff season. I can’t see us moving in any positive direction at the moment. I can’t see what the Philosophy of Dyche or Martins will bring to the club when it’s absolutely crying out for a bottom to the top regeneration of ideas and momentum. I can’t see what these Coaches will bring here except more trauma and upset. Time for Fosun to be brave. Get their eye back on the ball. Start slitting some throats in those corridors.
On top of the John Ireland stand a few years ago I did take a deep breath of that fine Wolverhampton air. The car fumes, the stink of industry, a waft of the greenery of West Park. If I was standing on top of that stand today I would want to smell blood.
Grifting section now. Only a few of these left so if you want to get hold of one for Crimbo get in there.