
A rather dramatic title but I suppose that is the point and I cannot think of a more succinct way to describe my feelings regarding Bolton Wanderers Football Club.
There are two kinds of football. There is the football you play and then there is the football you watch. This second kind of football really makes very little sense and it is the sort of football that I am writing about it.
I am not sure that I like football. In many, many ways I don’t understand football but I love Bolton Wanderers with all my heart and I always will.
What is Bolton Wanderers or any club for that matter? A name? 11 players? A stadium and some supporters? Well it really isn’t any of those things, although they are all requirements. Perhaps it is simply history. The celebration of every goal and every fan who ever dreamed that this day may be our day.
Some people laugh when they find out that I am a Bolton fan or think it is somewhat strange – why not support another team, a more successful team? I find this a bewildering response.
You don’t choose a football team to support! Your football team chooses you! It’s not a calculation or a decision. One day, you realise that you support a team and that it is. I can think of few deeds worse than that of changing which football team you support (with a possible exemption for children).
I admire and respect the dedication and heart that people put into supporting their football team. I never think, ‘really?’ I take my hat off to them and wish them well, unless they are playing Bolton Wanderers.
My first memory of supporting Bolton Wanderers is from January 1993. We were in the third tier of English Football. We hadn’t been in the top flight since before I was born. We were to play the FA Cup champions, Liverpool, the most successful club of recent years, certainly before the soon-to-beimminent rise of Manchester United.
We were written off. No chance, no hope, the result a mere formality.
I listened to the match on the radio. We were 2-0 nil up at half time! I can recall the unbelievable exhilaration of the goals going in. I think and could well be wrong that it was John McGinley and Jason McAteer that scored. Liverpool got two back and the game finished 2-2. We went to Anfield for the replay bit miraculously won. This set the bar for my expectations rather high for the years that followed. But we did have the odd moment in the FA Cup for over the next few years. We would rise to the dizzy heights of joining the Premier League in 1997 after coming down from 3-0 in the Play Off final to win 4-3.
I think the hardest day for me as a Bolton fan was losing to Aston Villa in the Semi-finals of the FA Cup. It was the last final to take place at the old Wembley Stadium before it was demolished. Bolton won the first FA Cup final that ever took place at Wembley, way back in 1923, and what an idea, that we might be in the final of the last FA Cup final to be held there. And who knows – we might even win…
But it was not to be. Bolton came desperately, heartbreakingly close to winning. The ‘golden goal’ system was in operation (the next team to score would win). But no-one did and it went to penalties and Villa won. Bolton weren’t in the premier league at the time and I remember the commentator saying how great it was that the final would have two premier league teams in it, and I think, he added that it would be a final, ‘worthy of the occasion’.
It wasn’t so much that we lost that bothered me (though it did, enormously), it was the idea that we didn’t deserve to be there in the first place. We weren’t just defeated. We were dismissed from the right of even competing.
To those people that laugh at the idea that someone would support Bolton Wanderers, I have a message and a rather rude one: go fuck yourselves! Fuck your ridicule, fuck your mocking and fuck your giggles! Fuck them to hell and back!
It’s not just about winning! It’s about your team winning! If it was just about winning everyone would support Manchester United and in many, many ways that would not be a world worth living in.
Bolton Wanderers got relegated yesterday after 11 years in the premier league. I remember when we got promoted back in 2000, there was no sense of entitlement, we had earned it and we knew that we would have to earn it each and every year. We half expected to get relegated the very next season as we had done just a couple of years previously.
Some people support what they consider ‘big clubs’. Some supporters believe that they have a right to a place in premier league, even a right to success. If there is a such thing as a ‘big club’, you earn it, one tackle at a time, one match at a time and one season at a time. No football club has a right to anything.
As a Bolton fan, I will never complain that we are not were we deserve to be (though of course, I reserve the right to complain about horrendous referring decisions). For better or for worse, we are exactly were we deserve to be, and I am right there with them. There is only kind of victory in football that means anything to me and that’s a victory for a Bolton Wanderers.
Bolton Wanderers is my football club and it always will be. God forbid that it should cease to exist one day, but if so, well then I would have no team.
So here’s to next season, to the heartache of disappointment and defeat and to the ecstasy of victory and to the sometimes too cruel hope that this year may be our year.
To those of you that do not understand why I support Bolton Wanderers – I pity you. To quote Thomas Paine, ”What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.” That it so hard is what make it worth doing. Though sometimes I wish it wasn’t quite so hard.

















Follow me on Twitter