I Love How We're Still Hated

I've seen three main different types of reactions to Bolton Wanderers recent plight. When every major news organisation tweets out the latest Wanderers travesty the previously uninitiated rear their heads to offer some input. We'll start with the good one and least frequent one, there are people out there who do find it sad about that Bolton are could cease to exist. Next up are the apathetic, those who just don't care if we live or die. And then there's the goons, they'll reply to said major news organisations tweets, brimming with spelling errors, exclaiming how we should die.

I would look for some examples for you but I've just woken up after watching the Royal Rumble until 4am so I'm a bit knackered, but the next time you see a big account tweet about Bolton just read the replies A) you will have some great subjects to wind up B) you will see that we're still hated, which is ace.

Does anybody else love it like I do? Does anybody else relish in the fact that even though we're lying half-dead in the sand with so many arrows in our back we resemble a porcupine, and still people hate us. Even though we sit on the bottom of the table with three wins all season, are under a transfer embargo, are having to sell assets to survive, threats of staff going unpaid and the HRMC wanting to literally finish us, they STILL can't stand us. We must have left one hell of an impression.

I'm glad we're still hated, I love it, in fact.

Don't get me wrong, I like the occasions good word too. I like seeing fans of other clubs wish us well and say how sad they are to see us fall so low, after the away tie at Eastleigh we were drinking in an Eastleigh pub when a group of fans came up to us and explained how they admired us for coming all this way and how much of a disgrace it was how we've been ran. It is nice to know people care.

But it's nicer to know people hate us so much more. We, as supporters of a terrible football club, don't have much left. But we have pride, pride knowing that our glory days were so brilliant that we're still hated for them now - even on our decent. We're not taking pity like some hapless dear caught in a trap, we're Bolton fucking Wanderers - and we'll die on our feet.