The Man in The Shed

11th  March - Wolves park the bus

Two o’clock on a Sunday – never the most appealing time to attend a live game. But let’s not let the feelings of the fans get in the way of the mighty TV broadcasters !

Despite high winds and weekend engineering work I was lucky enough to get to the ground in good time; others were clearly not so lucky. It seemed like the game was ten minutes old before the ground seemed full. The “B” crowd were also in today. No sign of the pumped up singing and chanting we get against Spurs, Arsenal and Man Utd. Many of the noisy regulars clearly didn’t believe it was worth coming to watch us play the team one place below us in 7^th. It took less than 15 minutes for the away fans to notice and serenade us with the inevitable “this is a library”. Sadly I had to agree with them. My first thought was to look hopefully towards the Shed’s main Zigger Zagger man (https://youtu.be/d-p-smr8k0U). But even he hadn’t bothered to turn up today.

It was getting pretty obvious mid-way through the first half how Wolves had set up. All players behind the ball and the bus was not just parked but the tyres had been let down and the driver sent home for good measure. My mind drifted from the interminable sideways passing to wondering whether it was genuinely getting harder to create chances in the Premier league or whether we had just forgotten how to. Just then Kanté slides an inch perfect pass to Higuain to finally test the keeper. Things weren’t getting any better. The longer the half went on the degree of attacking intent seemed to fade. The natives were getting restless. The half time whistle was met with complete ambivalence from both sets of fans.

So, with the football failing to inspire me what other distractions could I muster. No other games to check scores for so I meandered into player numbering. Whilst still uncomfortable with seeing seventy something or ninety something on the backs of Malmo players I just couldn’t reconcile an away keeper with eleven on his back. That’s an attacking player number for god’s sake.

Well the boys in blue were out first for the second half – perhaps with the sound of the manager’s ranting still ringing in their ears ? We then had to wait an additional minute when Wolves finally made their appearance as they had a nice warm up routine going on on the touchline.

Things didn’t get any better as the second half began. The bus had magically moved to the other end during the half time break. It was still pretty much an attack versus defence training exercise except ten minutes in it wasn’t. Wolves finally break away for pretty much the only time in the game and score a scruffy goal. Now ambivalence was replaced by anger. The natives were now berating “Sarri-ball” and the Sarri apostles (Jorginho) so it was no surprise when the noises as he was subbed were less than positive.

The clock ticked down – painful minute by minute. The likelihood of us scoring draining away despite some very un-Sarri substitutions (Willian, Rubey and Hudson-Odoi). The slow exit of disappointed fans grew as optimism was replaced by disillusionment. I cannot ever drag myself away before the end – I must be the world’s most optimistic fan. My loyalty is rewarded out of nothing by a moment of genius from our only world class player. The stadium erupts (well the 80% of Chelsea fans still in the ground do). There are still a couple of minutes of injury time left – could we win it ? Despite a couple of valiant efforts the game ends in a draw.

I arrived believing we could sneak a narrow win (they are seventh after all and have taken points off most of the top 6). I left feeling a somewhat grudging respect for a Wolves rear-guard action which came within two minutes of a win but increased respect for our boys for refusing to give up. You only had to see the body language of the likes of Rűdiger and Dave to know they hate to lose. I am a little more convinced that this squad do have more fight than our recent big defeats suggested.

We move on – Kiev part two to come.