Once upon a time, being a Wolves fan wasn’t so much a matter of life or death but something way more important, with my mood, outlook on life and even school attendance beholden to the fortunes of our Wanderers.
Typical of any fan of gold and black persuasion, my highs soared higher than Ryan Bennett at the back post and my lows trundled miserably through a Tony Lange divot.
Nowadays, I meander somewhere between the two, with an outpouring of tribal passion seen once every blue moon.
Fitting then, that our Man City triumph was the catalyst to stir the sluggish juices, in ways I doubted my body had the capacity to feel anymore. With a shrill of whistles echoing around leaden skies and our admirable side scrapping away in the rain, Boubacar’s rangy right leg interrupted another City assault, as the ref took a look at his watch.
‘CORNER FLAG’, I bellowed from behind the gaps in my fingers, in a primal roar that simultaneously lifted me out of my seat and reaffirmed my unwavering love of this crackpot club.
It’s a love that will never die, even if it doesn’t see the light of day so often anymore.
And it’s for this reason that Saturday’s most unlikely of wins meant so much more than three points to anyone who was there to see it.
I know I wasn’t alone and others were feeling it too, as the decibels continued to rise to levels reserved for play-off semi-finals and the most halcyon of Nuno days. From 80 minutes onwards, I could barely look at what I was watching, partly because of the proximity between Jose Sa’s goal and the ball, but mainly because a late tragedy would have been too horrific for such newfound levels of hope to contemplate.
It wasn’t just Wolves against the best team in Europe, but referee Pawson, Stockley Park and the very hands of time, which not only stopped every time I checked my watch, but officially ground to a standstill on the old South Bank clock.
For the sake of my rejuvenated juices and the love of 30,000 fanatics around me, we couldn’t lose that game of football as it had morphed into something far greater. It was a dose of medicine that three points will never do justice to, with the roar at the final whistle so deafening that I struggled to comprehend how any fan base could have needed it more.
By God we needed that win and every last drop of its restorative effect, if not to stave off the threat of the bottom three but to rehabilitate a downtrodden legion of late, who’d forgotten why the Beautiful Game can be so drop-dead gorgeous.
As I walked along the Waterloo Road and up towards town at the final whistle, everyone was smiling and the world felt somehow lighter.
‘I’d take that Brighton score today,’ muttered a weathered old soul to himself before kick off, as he contemplated life towards a Billy Wright urinal.
I bet he thought he’d seen it all before but being born under a Wanderers scarf means he probably never will.
Not so much three points on a Saturday afternoon, but a Molineux memento to remind us why gold and black runs through our blood.
Priceless.
Blimey Ben thats brought tears to my eyes bloody hell !
Ahh, thanks Spikey! Glad you liked it. Not sure where it came from, looking back! Up the Wolves!
Ben boy, I’m more than old enough to be your father but my juices still get stirred on a very regular basis.
But enough about that and back to the football.
You, as ever, have put in to words what all us Wolves fans feel deep in our hearts (and our Steve Bull autographed underpants).
Keep the love going, keep stirring at those juices… and keep on writing mate.
Maybe a slightly older brother?! ? You know how much any compliment means from you Doog, so this really means a lot.
My life has always been one of peaks and troughs, with little in between, but I’ve been in that gap between the home and away fans in the old South Bank for a while now. No Man’s Land. But Saturday threw me back into a huge peak, out of nowhere. A nice reminder of why this club is ingrained in my DNA. I hope to be lifted off my seat on Sunday too, now the old juices are flowing again! Love to the family Doog.
What have you done with Ben?
I want miserable Ben back
who are you ?
Fear not London, the miserable bastard still lies within… And will be back before you know it! ?
Lovely stuff Ben. Sentiments echoed by many a Wolves fan around the world I’ll wager.
I’m at my sisters place in France and didn’t mind missing the match commentary given the inevitable disappointing result. I checked at half time and was pleased but far from confident at the lead.
To check later in the 2nd half and find a goal each had maintained our advantage was like a bolt from the blue.
No putting it down now. It seemed rude to listen to my game while the others chatted away but, as the clock ticked down and my agitation turned to desperation, the chatters became listeners too.
I could feel the atmosphere through the radio and would have given the world to have been there to cheer the lads home.
A memorable day and one which when it is spoken of, those who were there will say with pride ‘I was there’.?
I was there Stroker, as you were in spirit, unforgettable day.
Brilliant blog Ben, brilliant day.
Thank you Witley. A brilliant day it was! (the morning after wasn’t though, as I was nursing the mother of all hangovers!)
Thanks Wolfstroker! I think your scenario is just as meaningful as one inside the ground. We can all relate with where you were, as we’ve all been in similar contexts. That’s the thing with us all and ‘dem Wolves… They define us wherever we are, and we’re all united wherever we were come 5pm on Saturday. And the world somehow feels a better place afterwards. Up the Wolves!
What he said
Just read that 3 times
Brilliant Ben
Thank you Marnster x
Very, very well written . You captured things brilliantly. Thank you for making the effort to write such a wonderful piece.
Thanks Sutton Coldfield Wolf. Very kind of you to say. It makes the effort worthwhile to get a comment like this. And it spurs me into a doing another one soon! (which I’ve been promising Thomas I’ll do for months!)
Good. Looking forward to it.
Well Benbow.. that was a masterclass in the good art of language and diction .. (whatever that translates to).
When I saw you bellowing out the hurrahs to each Wolves’ team member on going through the starting line-up .. I could tell immediately that your Juices were flowing ..
and by the end so were your vocal chords ..
there’s no doubt your passion for Wolves’ success is proportional to ‘Juice volume’ and rightly so.
Your passion rubs off on me too mate .. so much so that my juices begin to oooooze through my pores ..
A great result this weekend .. suitable celebrated ..
Great article mate ..
Thank you Lord Twix of the Billy Cadbury Stand. Your chocolate has been the only thing bringing me back to my seat for a while, but Saturday sustained me in other ways as I licked my lips to the on field spectacle for once!
I forgot I was quite boisterous before kick off. Well remembered! ?
Going to miss you Sunday. Always a pleasure sat next to you. Makes the extortionate price of my ticket slightly less painful!
Speak soon x
Ahh man that was a brilliant read, you are a gifted writer. Personally speaking I almost shed a tear at 1:1 when all the decisions were going against us and it seemed like defeat would be delivered, by any necessary means. I felt this it, I just can’t care anymore, the game is gone, corrupt, redundant.
But then we scored and I couldn’t believe it. I was happy again, on cloud 9 infact. And as the squinted minutes ticked away on the big screen I found myself almost returned to tears again, tears of joy.
At the final whistle I excitedly told the bloke next door we’d only gone and beat the champions of Europe, he knew of course, him and all around celebrated wildy. These ‘are’ the days my friend.
Tears of joy for sure Slider (if not Tears for Fears at the end – everybody wants to rule the world!)
I can relate to all you write. We’re all cut from the same cloth, aren’t we?
It feels like the game is moving too fast for me these days (a bit like life itself), but Saturday seemed to take me to a happy old place that has eluded me for too long.
Togetherness, perhaps.
In any case, let’s hope for another performance like that on Sunday! Your kind words mean a lot
Good job Ben.
Bet you’re glad not to be a Liverpool FC fan this weekend. Can only imagine the hand wringing & frustration on Merseyside following that VARup. Epic.
Paddy got to do the Citeh write up as well. A creditable first appearance of the season. On reflection a perfect day. And a repeat performance against the Vanilla wouldn’t go amiss.
The start of something awesome this season?
Maybe.
1 lv & COYW.
Yes Rasta! Always glad not to be a Liverpool supporter! (which I would have been were it not for my dad who dragged me down the Molineux when he saw some worrying signs, back in 1988!)
It was the perfect day. I even ended up in Blast Off hours later, in a real throwback to the good old days! Let’s hope our season has now officially begun, and we continue with another good performance against the Villa. Fingers crossed!
Ben, best post for ages. Think we can all relate to your words. It goes beyond words, feelings or rationale behaviour at times our love for this club. It’s in the blood.
KTF
Thanks Marnhull. It makes the effort worthwhile when I read lovely comments like this.
I remember when there was about an hour gone on Saturday, and i found myself whispering to myself ‘I wish I didn’t care this much!’ ?
It’s for that little voice that I put pen to paper… It’s impossible not to care when push comes to shove.
I’ll treasure Saturday – and hope for one or two more moments like that one in the weeks and months to come. Up the Wolves!
Ben …you have captured perfectly the angst, agony and all too rare delirium of following the Wolves. My dear departed Diane once asked me why we couldn’t support a ‘winning team’ and I tried to explain to her that there wasn’t a choice, its a tattoo from birth (Brierley Hill), a life experience that brings whatever it does,….even visits to the Billy Wright urinal ( lovely picture in my head).
I was on my knees praying for the final whistle from 6000 miles away and I screamed when it happened. Such a stupid life eh? Thanks for defining so exquisitely the moment.
Meantime, for anyone who still thinks that Mr O Neil is a clueless git, take a few minutes to read this US- based analysis.
UTW
https://theathletic.com/4917443/2023/10/02/wolves-tactical-blueprint-man-city/
Well written, Ben. Two days before the game I knew I was not going to be able to drive the 340 mile round trip due to Flu or Covid (negative on my one day out of date test kit) so I was going to miss a sound defeat, so I thought. Despite my understandable pessimism, I would have been there if able of course; far worse times have been experienced with my support solid. But what a match to have missed, especially having attended the Ipswich debacle.
Now I will be able to attend the Villa game on Sunday, but what will be the outcome? Wishing my time away to be there in everlasting hope. COYW..
Just to change the topic, I said Jeff looked desperate and sleazy when he signed the sleeve sponsorship deal with that gambling company and it seems to have shown itself to be the case already.
Shi out!!
That was an outpouring of many different emotions gathered from a long period of following our beloved club through the thicks and the thins and the ups and the downright downs, Ben. Great stuff!
So many of us echo those sentiments and I remember both my departed grandfather and uncle were no different. My dad wasn’t quite so frenetic though.
Personally, Ben, I wouldn’t have have it any other way…