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Wanderers Ways. Neil Thompson 1961-2021

Grant


anewman

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I see, so if we don't go down this season, the plan is to definitely go down next

 

My thoughts exactly. If we stay up and Coyle is replaced I don't care if the new guy plays boring football just so long as he knows how to tighten our defence up.

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Forty Years On

 

The car doors slam, muffled by the heavy rain, and the man and his son walk together to the wall of the silent shuttered shops, searching for a moment before they see, high upon the wall, the small , tattered plaque.

 

'There it is, son', the man says, pointing.

 

Together they read the words on the scratched and defaced brass,

 

'On this spot, stood the well known statue of local football icon Nat Lofthouse ? ?The Lion of Vienna? to a generation of fans who supported Bolton Wanderers F.C., and here the Club's stadium once occupied the area of the present day Middlebrook Mall. The statue was stolen, presumably for scrap value, during the demolition of the ground in 2019, after Wanderers plummeted through the divisions under the stewardship of Avram Grant. This plaque was placed in his memory by the loyal old comrades of B.W.F.C.'.

 

'It seems funny, you know, Dad', says the boy, 'I can't imagine a football stadium here, its just a dump, and half of these shops look derelict.'.

'I told you so, didn't I?.', replies his father, shaking his head, 'Your grandad used to bring me here, when I was a kid- it was magic......,well for a while it was magic, then a lot of stuff happened, I didn't understand it at the time and grandad wouldn't talk about it anymore ? it made him too sad.'.

 

They stand for a few minutes, and a sound like the far off cheering of a joyous crowd seems to float on the rain filled air, vanishing faintly into a zephyr of silence.

 

'Can we go now, Dad, I'm soaked', shivers the boy.

'Yeah, 'course we can Son,' and they turn for the car, 'I promised your Grandad I'd bring you. When he was dying he reckoned that soon no-one would remember his team, so I said I'd take a detour and show you the old place.'.

 

They get in and Dad presses the E-button and checks the charge light.

 

'We will get to Old Trafford before kick off won't we Dad?', asks the boy.

 

'Don't worry, ', smiles Dad, 'there's plenty of time son'.

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Do you really think anyone is daft enough to believe it? It sounds like it was written by Grant's agent.

 

Nothing suprises me at the moment. I dont go for conspiracy, that its a dastardly plot designed by QPR to undermind us on Sunday, or that Grants agent is punting him for a job at BOLTON??????. I do believe that there are elements within the club that have more faces than the town hall clock.

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I'd rather have Russell Grant. His cheery demenour and ability to predict the the future could come in handy.

 

Speaking of him, and totally off-topic. The girl in this advert - I swear I've seen her before in...ahem, a state of undress, possibly alongside 'talented' actor(s) in other productions, ones that certainly wouldn't go out on prime-time television (nor any UK television).

 

Perhaps some of our resident afficionadoes can put a name to a face?

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39yo6L3xnMA

Edited by Youri McAnespie
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Forty Years On

 

The car doors slam, muffled by the heavy rain, and the man and his son walk together to the wall of the silent shuttered shops, searching for a moment before they see, high upon the wall, the small , tattered plaque.

 

'There it is, son', the man says, pointing.

 

Together they read the words on the scratched and defaced brass,

 

'On this spot, stood the well known statue of local football icon Nat Lofthouse ? ?The Lion of Vienna? to a generation of fans who supported Bolton Wanderers F.C., and here the Club's stadium once occupied the area of the present day Middlebrook Mall. The statue was stolen, presumably for scrap value, during the demolition of the ground in 2019, after Wanderers plummeted through the divisions under the stewardship of Avram Grant. This plaque was placed in his memory by the loyal old comrades of B.W.F.C.'.

 

'It seems funny, you know, Dad', says the boy, 'I can't imagine a football stadium here, its just a dump, and half of these shops look derelict.'.

'I told you so, didn't I?.', replies his father, shaking his head, 'Your grandad used to bring me here, when I was a kid- it was magic......,well for a while it was magic, then a lot of stuff happened, I didn't understand it at the time and grandad wouldn't talk about it anymore ? it made him too sad.'.

 

They stand for a few minutes, and a sound like the far off cheering of a joyous crowd seems to float on the rain filled air, vanishing faintly into a zephyr of silence.

 

'Can we go now, Dad, I'm soaked', shivers the boy.

'Yeah, 'course we can Son,' and they turn for the car, 'I promised your Grandad I'd bring you. When he was dying he reckoned that soon no-one would remember his team, so I said I'd take a detour and show you the old place.'.

 

They get in and Dad presses the E-button and checks the charge light.

 

'We will get to Old Trafford before kick off won't we Dad?', asks the boy.

 

'Don't worry, ', smiles Dad, 'there's plenty of time son'.

Very good that!Your not J.K. Rowling by any chance are you?
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