The Massive Decline of Dorian Dervite

I've often been the sole person in Dorian Dervite's corner, always there near the turnbuckle to offer moral supporting stomps on the ringside and massively over the top claps in order to get an apathetic, mostly ridiculing, crowd to cheer him on.

Now when he needs me most, as he desperately crawls to the corner, arm hopefully outstretched, straining with dear life to make the tag, I've gone full heel turn. I jump off the side of the ring shaking my head with what can only be described as a look of pure disappointment and a new found realisation of how bad he is, he looks at me with heartbreak etched upon his face and hopelessness in his eyes. However, I remain sympathetic and I as I walk back up the ramp I can't stand to watch as the many blows rain down on poor Dorian.

It's a betrayal, but not out of hatred, not in the slightest, more of the fact that I really can't let my image be corrupted by standing by his side any longer.

It hurts, but it has to be done.

If you didn't get my point from my frankly brilliant wrestling analogy then firstly, shame on you. Secondly, let me put it in simpler terms. I was once a resolute defender of our Bolton Wanderers centre back Dorian Dervite. but I simply can not be any longer.

All because his decline has been nothing short of disastrous.

I still stand by the fact that when Dervite first joined the club, debut aside, he was actually quite a good defender. Even at points earlier this season he looked as if was getting his old self back, but it now feels as if he his far past any possible redemption.

Truly, I can't count the number of times the words "you beautiful bastard" were on my lips when watching Dervite play in a white shirt. It's hard to remember at this point, but once upon a time he was always make crucial blocks, vital interceptions and game saving tackles. He was good.

Now all that has gone and what remains is a slow, shambling liability.

He's rash and reckless, not showing the defensive nouse enough to stand off attackers and hold them up, instead he opts to smash through the back of them which tends to lead to silly free kicks being given away or Dorian receiving his marching orders.

He is, by quite a considerable distance, the worst passer of a football I have ever witnessed in my life - and I've watched my self pass footballs whilst playing football my self. That's how bad he is.

When ever he has the ball at his feet and no one is pressuring him it's so painstakingly obvious what is going to happen every time. He'll look up and see either big Shola, big Emile or big Gary making, we'll cal it a run as there isn't really another word to describe it, run into space and he'll go for it, the ambitious hollywood long ball.

In his dreams they probably meet Emile Heskey's foot in mid air as he thunders in a flying volley from 35 yards. In reality they always ALWAYS pitifully go out of play or in to the 'keepers arms. It's genuinely fucking pathetic that a Premier League footballer can't pass a ball.

Then, his worst sin of all, his deranged obsession with following the ball no matter where it goes. It wouldn't surprise me if he actually slept with one nestled in his arms for comfort.

He's drawn to a ball like a mouth to it's inevitable zapping death, unfortunately Dorian doesn't seem to get the same level of nasty shock, despite it constantly leading to chances and goals for the opposition. The goal scored by Brentford on Monday night wasn't entirely Dervite's fault, but by stepping out of the defensive line he left  a gap which was easily exploited by two Brentford players and then they scored from it.

This can't be allowed to continue, it's such an obvious, yet simple, problem and it leads us to looking so calamitous and open at the back. He isn't on the same wavelength as his fellow defenders, and we're even poorer as a result.

I'm sorry Dorian, but I'm walking away from you, and it's gonna take a massive improvement to get me back on side.

That or you could just hit me with a hurricanrana off the top rope.