The Bad #2
Bolton Wanderers…1 Yeovil Town…1
28th September 2013
The decline of Bolton Wanderers since Premier League relegation was accelerating like a car with no brakes heading down a steep hill. Next up was the first ever league meeting with Yeovil Town – in the Championship for the first and last time in their history.
The end of Bolton’s first season back at Championship level (2012/13) had ended in blistering fashion under the guidance of Dougie Freedman and we only marginally missed out on a play-off spot on the last weekend. There was certainly nothing to prepare us for the horrendous start to the 2013/14 term.
By the final weekend of September we’d drawn three and lost five of our first eight games. Even in the bleak years of the 1980s we’d never had as bad a start to a league season as this. Surely a home match against Yeovil, with only a point more than us, was a huge opportunity to get our first win. I certainly hoped so as my mate’s missus was from near Yeovil and had already indulged in some West Country piss-taking about them being above us in the league.
I remember it being a warm September day and being tempted in to a couple of pints before the match. Inevitably the old slack bladder meant I ended up missing some of the first half while nipping down to the bogs for a slash. On the pitch Bolton were on top and creating chances in what seemed overall to be a pedestrian game. Medo Kamara came closest when he hit the post.
“Even in the bleak years of the 1980s we’d never had as bad a start to a league season as this.”
The second half resumed along similar lines and the fans became very restless as we laboured to break down the Somerset side. One particular lazy David Ngog miss from about seven yards resulted in boos reverberating around the stadium.
With ten minutes remaining a true head-in-the-hands moment arrived. A tame 20-yard shot from Yeovil’s Ed Upson squirmed under our keeper Adam Bogdan and limped over the South Stand goal line. Yeovil’s tiny away following celebrated in civilised fashion like cricket fans happy at a boundary. Fans in the home end sunk deep in to their seats to contemplate how unbelievably bad things had become.
With injury time pretty close I left for another quick slash and re-emerged in to the stadium at the East Stand/North Stand corner to watch the dying embers of this embarrassment. I could see a text from my mate on my phone – I had no doubt it was conveying some bragging from his Somerset missus.
The 90th minute mark had come and gone when a deep cross from in front of the ESL was watched in to touch by Yeovil’s backline – or so they thought. Centre back Zat Knight, playing as an auxiliary striker knocked the ball back in to the box just before it dropped out. In reality (I was directly in line) it was out of play and should have been a goal kick. His hopeful flick fortuitously arrowed towards his advancing central defensive partner Matt Mills and his header agonisingly hit the underside of the bar and bounced out. The pinball had not finished. There was Alex Baptiste to direct the ball in to the top corner and at long last something had gone for us.
The referee seemed to be finding oceans of injury time and an injection of energy in to the fans cascaded on to the pitch. Yeovil failed to deal with another cross and a Mills header was saved on the line by their keeper. Then at last the ref blew.
We’d avoided defeat but it was a ninth straight game since the start of the season with no win and our club was a listing ship. There seemed to be no end in sight and the third tier was beckoning even at this early stage of the year. As it turned out we had just two more games to wait for that elusive win and we didn’t get relegated.
I never did answer that text from my mate. And neither he or his missus mentioned the game the next time we met.