So, over 36 hours since I left the sacred North West to go and watch Bolton Wanderers face Eastleigh in the FA Cup 3rd round I have finally made it all the way back home again. Thus, now is the time to actually start writing some opinions on the game.
Now, I really want to make sure I'm not understating this in any way, shape or form: it was diabolical. Atrocious. Embarrassing. Disgraceful and countless other expletives, but I'm far too tired and hungover to think of some fancy sounding ones. Basically, it was the worst game I have ever seen my beloved Bolton Wanderers play. Ever.
A non-league side showed better ambition, fight and, most infuriatingly, quality, than we could muster up in the entirety of the 90 minutes. They passed us off the park at times, with two defence splitting moves they really should have added to their slender advantage before Darren Pratley stormed in the equaliser. They should have won.
Eastleigh, a non-league side, should have won.
Not one player wearing all black that afternoon but in something anywhere near an acceptable performance, which is an even further low as even though we've been awful all season there has always tended to be at least one player who showed something, anything, that was worthy of praise.
But not this time.
So I'm giving my MOTM award to the mad head who ran onto the pitch while Eastleigh were fully on the attack. For a man of such an age he ran with great pace and came very close to stopping the Eastleigh move, though he just couldn't quite get there in time - fitting in with the rest of the Bolton backline wonderfully. His slip in the goalmouth mud, goading the, very slow and unaware, stewards into the chase and just his general presence lifted the spirits of all thoroughly depressed Bolton fans in the Silverlake Stadium.
He was hilarious, and as he was getting carted out of the stadium, the chants of "sign him up" were very much deserved.
Honourable mention to the fella on the roof, too.