Life is never one linear line towards happiness, is it?
Full of highs and lows and ups and downs, to the extent where Molineux marketing slogans were once designed around a roller coaster, weren’t they?
Sometimes the needle plummets like it used to in the days of Burrda. Double dips and dipsticks.
Sometimes it just flatlines altogether following hours of Glenn Hoddle tedium.
The toughest challenge is placing where we are right now, in a society crying out for guidance; a fan base in need of being spoon-fed, dare I say. The younger generation have never had it so good, but probably resent being told so? The older generation a bit longer in the tooth for Fabio Silva ‘star boy’ memes that ‘yer bald Da’ would never understand?
Should we buy a shirt? Should we baulk at the price? Is it a nice design? It isn’t what it used to be, is it?
A ham-fisted membership scheme is the latest pipe bomb to be lobbed into a fractious fan-base that I can honestly never remember being so divided.
Shirts for those that can afford it, cheaper version for the rest. Membership plus for the privileged few, free for all for the rest. @Wolves scoring own goals from the commercial department. Sad to see.— Mijas Wolves (@MijasWolves) July 20, 2021
If it’s not a generational thing then it’s two sides of the same coin in desperate need of landing on their chosen side. Heads we win, tails you’re a twat. Both obsess about owning the consensus and both have to be correct, in a sign of the times that has rarely depressed me more.
Much as I want the shadow stripe Manders memories back, they’ve long since flickered away on a dog-eared piece of paper. Like the litter on the breeze; like the lovers on the streets.
The younger generation wouldn’t get it any more than I got Peter Knowles floating on air in a crew neck shirt that really was old gold. Hardly their fault and hardly a surprise that they just don’t relate to us old gits anymore?
Trying to assume the high ground is just pointless though, because we’re never going to agree on anything, barring one common theme…
…We all love the Wolves in our own wonderful way.
Loyalty counted for something once, when Steve Bull gave us his career from 1986 to be precise. The youngsters couldn’t embrace that zeitgeist as they just weren’t there to feel it. And in today’s society where snakes run most asylums, the very notion of loyalty is alien anyway.
That we’ve been in the Barclays League Div 4, or the Zenith Data Cup, or the Anglo Italian Trophy in the back of a Sherpa Van is literally irrelevant now. Those days have gone and they’re not coming back. I’d die for those days. Stupid eh?
In their place is something colder, non-descript and a damned sight more successful – a bit like our new replica shirt come to think of it.
Despite the noises coming from Bruno and a potential new era of progressive football, I feel I’m stuck in a dip now, somewhere between a mountain and the deep blue sea.
The vibrant effervescence of a vital young fanbase would feel differently I’m sure. And if the club wants to tap into its positivity to move Wolves forward then it will do so with my blessing. Put some respect on their names and all that, and who cares where they’re from (colourful Wolver-hampur-ton or not!)
The strength of the wolf is in the pack, but if the lame old stragglers at the back can’t keep up like this old wheezing dog, then it’s time to set them free.