News

“Bloody Ward.”

An all too familiar cry of anguish went up as I spat out the team news at precisely 11.32am, crammed inside a Costa Coffee surrounded by stressed-out gold shirts (because all the pubs in town were astonishingly slammed shut).

By the time I arrived at the ground, I couldn’t determine whether I was shaking because of the caffeine rapidly flooding into my bloodstream or because Matt Jarvis had been dropped. I eventually reasoned it was the latter, but also had something to do with the fact that Milijas was once again on the sidelines and Hammill wasn’t even in the squad.

It just seemed mental.

But as some scientist-bloke shrewdly pointed out, there’s a thin line between insanity and genius; a point which has been repeatedly accentuated this season by ‘Mad Mick’ and his tactical epiphanies.

There’s a similar divide between love and hate too, which I myself have flittered between in recent weeks, pondering the plight of our manager. But today, however begrudgingly you want to admit it, he got it bang on the money.

For starters, he brought Stephen Hunt back into the side, a player built-to-measure for a Black Country Derby. When I said in the preview I expected Wolves to explode out of the blocks like a pack of rabid animals, I didn’t think Hunt would take it quite so literally.

But he did you know; buzzing around the pitch like a man possessed, snapping at ankles and rascally getting into as much trouble as he possibly could.

He was also the chief architect of Albion’s downfall, delivering both crosses that led to Wolves establishing a decisive foothold midway through the first half.

The Baggies marking was non-existent, but that should take nothing away from Steven Fletcher and Adlene Guedioura for twice putting themselves in there to benefit from the others vital knockdowns.

It was the least Wolves deserved having muscled into the ascendancy early on and generally shown a greater appetite for the scrap.

For the visitors, it was the kind of performance they would have secretly feared as their side struggled to get started.

Sure they threatened at times, Jerome Thomas constantly asked questions from the left and Peter Odemwingie posed a threat whenever he was given ample time and space to run at our back four.

But it was Wolves who came closest to scoring again just prior to the interval, when Fletcher somehow contrived to head wide from another incisive set piece. It was an astonishing miss really, but the Scot soon made up for it minutes after the restart.

You always got the impression Meite was capable of a big mistake and so it proved when he clumsily let the ball slip under his foot, allowing Fletch to sprint in and coolly slot home Wolves’ third.

Dreamland.

Sadly though, it didn’t last.

A sluggish outstretched leg from Guedioura saw Albion correctly awarded a spot-kick and Odemwingie did the rest, firing confidently passed the outstretched arm of Hennessy.

Suddenly it was game on, panic stations and the distinct possibility of the worst kind of misery.

Thomas ran clear and crashed a shot off the bar, Hennessy smartly clawed out Cox’s flick and Tchoyi nodded a fabulous opening over the bar when left inexplicably all alone in the box.

Phew.

But as the seconds ticked agonisingly by and the Albion blitz eventually subsided and the sun started to shine again, suddenly everything in the world seemed good.

And then through the steamy haze, a mirage. A vision. It must surely have been a dream?

Stephen Ward plucks the ball out of the vivid blue sky, audaciously lifting it over the defender in one beautiful, seamless movement before shrugging off the attentions of another stripey shirt and taking aim at the hopelessly exposed Albion goal. It couldn’t be, could it?

Then, reality, as he slammed his fierce shot narrowly wide having done all the hard work in crafting the space.

What a shame. That was his moment and he deserved that goal.

But still, he should hold his head up high for a performance that took all the bile, disgust and criticism (some deserved, some not quite so) he’s received all season and became a hero, at least for this one glorious day. Why wouldn’t you smile for him?

And why wouldn’t you smile for Mick McCarthy?

If you’re prepared to rip him to shreds, as I myself have in recent weeks for a string of logic-defying brainwaves, you have to be willing to tip your cap to him on a day like today.

Sure, we might ultimately come up short in our quest for survival, but today was a stark reminder that you write off this team and this manager at your peril.

Oh, and my man of the match?

Bloody Ward of course.

Anyone else sick of moaning? I know I am.

Things are bad, that’s for sure and I’ve been carping on as much as anyone after the last two depressing outings, but it’s time to dust ourselves down and go again.

The season isn’t over. Far from it in fact.

Whatever your thoughts are on the campaign to date, there can still be a satisfactory ending and if we’re occupying 17th place or higher at 6pm on the 22nd of May, I know I’ll be wearing a broad grin.

We’re a single point from safety and there are three winnable games left to play, starting with a Molineux dust-up against our bitterest rivals.

Sure, I admit this fixture isn’t particularly enticing if you’re wearing old gold. After all, Albion have nothing to lose and we’ve pretty much arrived at the door of the last chance saloon.

But what better way to drag us all out of this wretched lull than with an emphatic win over Sandwell’s finest?

Surrender is not an option in this one, the players know that, and whatever eleven Mick puts out, I’m fully expecting them to explode out of the blocks like a pack of ravenous animals.

This is the team that I would send into battle:

Hennessy

Foley
Stearman
Craddock
Elokobi

Hammill
Henry
Milijas
O’Hara
Jarvis

Fletcher

Sadly, I’m fairly certain this will not be the eleven that kick-off. I reckon we’ll probably see the same side that started against Blues, which means 442 with Ward alongside Fletch up front.

If that prediction proves accurate, I’ll be gutted to see the likes of Milijas and Hammill watching on from the side, as I truly believe they have the ability to save our season in a heartbeat.

You might have observed that I’ve said nothing of the opposition in this preview. The reason is simple, I just don’t care.

I don’t care that they’re already safe, or that their away form is respectable or that they’re missing a few players for this one.

The fact of the matter is, it’s up to Wolves to go out there and win this match. They owe it to the fans for the garbage we’ve had to muster of late.

Prediction League

Myself, along with Mark Davies, Bazza and Philly Pete all got 3 points last time out for correctly predicting a one all draw at Blues. Dobson12 and Martin also get a point for guessing the right outcome but not the score.

This week, I’m backing the lads to get the result.

We won’t be mathematically relegated if we lose, but it’s a kick in the man area we’d do well to recover from.

I think everyone, including Mick and the players know that. We’re overdue some joy against these clowns and I reckon we might finally get some this Sunday.

3-1 Wolves.

If you’re at Molineux for this one, lets make the place the bounce. The s*** are coming down for a party, so let’s give them a rude awakening.

Up The Wolves.