Wolves blog: A winter of discontent

Kenny Jackett looked tired, withdrawn and utterly disenchanted as he digested his team's hopeless performance in their 2–1 defeat to Preston last weekend...writes Wolves blogger Graham Large

Hardly surprising when you consider what had unfolded that afternoon at Molineux.

Wolves had fallen behind early in the first half when Paul Gallagher escaped their tardy offside trap to rifle the ball past an exposed Carl Ikeme. And the visitors spent the rest of the half switching the ball patiently from back to front with relative ease.

Half time could not come soon enough for Jackett and he responded by removing the ineffective Rajiv Van La Parra and replacing him with new signing Joe Mason. Mason had scored on his home debut against Bolton just ten days earlier before being inexplicably dropped for the trip to Reading, and fans were hopeful that his introduction could spark a revival.

But those hopes were short lived; and when a goal did arrive, it was Preston who were celebrating.

A few minutes into the second-half, Joe Reach doubled the visitors lead and the game had slipped even further away.

Suddenly there twenty thousand home supporters, screaming in unison "Do something, Kenny. Please, DO SOMETHING." Our faint play-off hopes hung in the balance and all we needed was a creative spark and a bit of tactical imagination. But Jackett was did nothing.

Sixty minutes comes and goes, and still there were no changes. The visitors were, once again, spraying the ball around effortlessly with their fans giving it the 'ole' treatment.

Out of nowhere, a rare foray into the Preston half saw the home team pull a goal back. It was that man Mason, who calmly rounded goalkeeper Anders Lindegaard, after latching on to Conor Coady's pass, before finishing comfortably.

However, the goal was little more than a mere token gesture. Seventy minutes comes and goes and there was no urgency to push for an equaliser, with Wolves barely entering the opposition's half let alone threatening their goal.

And I'm told it didn't get any better after eighty minutes either. But I cannot verify that because on the 80 minute mark I decided enough was enough and I got up and left. I was bored, cold and thoroughly fed up – and the lure of a nice pint in a warm pub proved too hard to resist.

Admitting that you leave early can lead to accusations that you are a fair weather fan, and not one of the true supporters who follows the team through thick and thin. I used to consider leaving early a cardinal sin and would stick around until the bitter end whatever the circumstances.

I accept the fact that things can change quickly in football, anyone who has left early only to hear the roar of a goal a couple of minutes later can vouch for that. I also accept that 2–1 down at home to Preston after 80 minutes is hardly mission impossible. If I had missed a valiant comeback then I would have gladly eaten humble pie for my Sunday morning breakfast.

However, Saturday's listless performance more than justified my decision to make a sharp exit. We never looked like getting back into the game and my reaction was exacerbated by the despair of knowing we are going backwards as well as the dejection with how the club's hierarchy have destroyed a team that finished last season so strongly.

That is the earliest I have ever left a game at Molineux. Am I proud of that? Not really. But am I ashamed? Not in the slightest.

It was quite simply the only way I could convey my frustrations and send a message to the powers that be without bursting a blood vessel in the process.