Perhaps we should have known Wolves were in trouble the moment they got the dreaded Pep Guardiola vote of confidence. “I think they have less points than they deserve,” the Manchester City manager observed on Friday. Guardiola does this a lot to teams he’s about to demolish. Coaches, too. It’s his way of saying: trust me, this 5-0 humbling is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.
In the event, the pain was divided on familiar lines. For Wolves, moral victories everywhere you looked. A fine battling performance; a great Molineux atmosphere; a reassuring sense of injustice. Meanwhile, actual Premier League points: zero. Current Premier League position: last. Still, Guardiola magnanimously name-checked every member of the Wolves starting XI in his press conference, so that’s something.
And for all their late disappointment, the worst start to a home season in club history, the consensus appears to be that Wolves – and by extension Gary O’Neil, will be just fine. Performances have been better than results. The fixtures have been brutal. Plenty of quality in the squad. There are almost certainly three worse teams in the division. Here City’s two goals came via a 25-yard screamer and a contentious VAR call. Things will be fine.
It’s a sound enough theory. None of the above is wrong. But perhaps it’s worth taking a moment to explore a parallel adventure. One in which Wolves do not simply spring up the table when their fixtures improve. One in which the serious flaws and psychological scars exposed by these opening eight games do not simply heal by magic. One in which Wolves – and by extension O’Neil – are actually in a bit more trouble than they realise.
To the game first of all, which was of course a huge improvement from the capitulation at Brentford, albeit abetted by a happy alignment of circumstances. An international break in which to regroup and reflect. An opponent missing their two best midfielders in Rodri and Kevin De Bruyne. A goalkeeper in José Sá on scintillating form. An early goal to set the tone and settle the nerves. And a transition gameplan almost perfectly calibrated for this particular opposition, which we know because last year O’Neil went on Monday Night Football and explained it in granular detail.
Point being: these are the games you need to see out. And even if you can’t really legislate for Josko Gvardiol smashing it in with his weaker foot, there were moments where Wolves could have made things easier for themselves. Nélson Semedo missed a one-on-one in the first half to make it 2-0. Some of their choices in possession smacked of panic, simply inviting further waves of City pressure. Potential counterattacks were often simply recycled, the ball invariably returning to the feet of Sá.
A kind of fatalism has set in here. If it is said that champions find a way, then perhaps the same is true at the other end of the table. Wolves have simply forgotten how to manage games, mislaid their ambition and their ability to make good decisions under stress. And if this was a problem against Brentford and City we can suggest it might also be a problem against Brighton and Crystal Palace.
There are parallels here with the relegated Leicester City in 2022-23, another club apparently stuffed with star talent, too good to go down, done dirty by the fixture computer, and yet who never quite managed to haul themselves out of their early-season funk. Yes, the fixtures have been tough. But somehow Wolves managed to get 11 points from exactly the same games last season. Meanwhile, fixtures have an annoying habit of looping back around. The new year period brings consecutive trips to Tottenham, Newcastle, Chelsea and Liverpool, either side of home games against Arsenal and Aston Villa.
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Whether O’Neil is still in place by then is anyone’s guess. He must know that if he fails, this is probably his last shot at a Premier League club for a while. And so, as with his MNF victory lap last year, there remains a part of him that seems desperate to explain and project himself while he still can. His comments here about unconscious bias by referees may fire up the fanbase and give free rein to the conspiracists. But they also made Wolves look like a small club.
And of course Howard Webb is not phoning Semedo and forcing him to miss a one-on-one. Webb is not phoning Craig Dawson and asking him to get outjumped by John Stones at a corner. Webb is not hanging Jørgen Strand Larsen out to dry in his post-match press conference for being unfit. Excuses and explanations have served Wolves pretty well to this point. But there comes a point when they run out.
