In the end, it was a picture that only the three M’s could have imagined, let alone painted.
Beneath the glare of the biggest of white elephants the team in white won, inspired by a home grown hero whose local rivals now call their own.
One team playing in the Premier League while the other plays in a parallel world altogether, losing for the umpteenth time on the pitch as the most feckless building project of all is shelved in favour of 50 odd houses off it.
Only Wolves could cobble together such a script, featuring a fabricated line about Compton progression, when our very own manager steadfastly objects to the very notion in the first place.
Not Mark Davies for example, who was leap-frogging Bolton above us with a man-of-the-match display at the Reebok, instead of maintaining our momentum once Frimpong departed.
If it wasn’t so chronically sad we’d all laugh.
But when a current board member boasts about signing off the North Bank redevelopment three days before the last day of last season, we really shouldn’t be surprised.
A monstrosity of a stand which Jez Moxey said would look ‘ridiculous’ to begin with and a team which Steve Morgan, ‘with a crystal ball, might have strengthened.’
Talk about planning.
The biggest irony of all was that for a 30 minute spell, we looked as good as we have all season, on the day we plunged to 19th position.
Michael Kightly proved why the club has stayed patient over his injury lay-off for so long, terrorising Villa and scoring a wonderful goal to partly erase the memory of Berra’s early indecision for the penalty.
The wonderfully mobile Frimpong exuded confidence and talent, controlling the midfield with Henry with right back Kevin Foley reminding us why he won a player of the year award as a right back. Funny that.
We thoroughly deserved a 2-1 lead at the break through Edwards’ flick from Johnson’s header and if anything, will regret profligacy for not being at least 4-1 ahead instead.
Both Fletcher and Edwards shot tamely at Given beforehand, when a yard either side would have yielded more joy.
But in a game of two halves, Wolves failed to reappear after the break and either looked slow out of the blocks, or just bereft of experience in actually defending a lead.
Keane’s equaliser underlined two things:
- Our chronic inability to keep the ball, this time underlined by Matt Jarvis
- Wayne Hennessey’s not-so-happy knack at conceding long range goals, later admitting he was to blame for this one
From then on the wheels came off and a game that we previously looked in control of took a turn for the worse when Frimpong was stretchered off.
With Stephen Warnock already brought on for Agbonlahor to specifically shackle Kightly, we suddenly looked laboured.
And when referee Michaal Oliver gleefully sent off Henry after first impeding a quick free kick and then ignoring a 5 second Albrighton offence, you sensed the game was heading one way.
That our very own Robbie Keane confirmed such a thought was either cruel beyond compare, or just rewards for a club with warped priorities.
With Blues beating us in the cup, our stadium redevelopment shelved and a housing development taking preference, Mick McCarthy could have been talking about the last seven days as a Wolves fan instead of these painful 90 minutes.
“Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.”