I had a nice leisurely week in Wigan. It coincided with Wigan Athletic’s final game of the season and the team being presented with the Division One championship trophy. It was well-deserved. By the team, the young manager and young chairman and all the fans.
The last couple of years were horrendous for a whole host of reasons but hopefully now they have been exorcised. The game was awful – well the team had been on the lash all week – but the celebrations around the ground and in town were something else.
It’s just great to see what a successful football team can do for a town or city and its surrounding areas.
For once I can’t wait for next season to begin. But first let’s remember season 2015/16. It was the season when Will Grigg was on fire along with that bloody song that went not only viral but into our heads to such an extent that it wouldn’t go away. The season when there were smiles on the faces of all the boys and girls in the pubs. The season when good football was expressed and results followed. Max Power on the piss after the Blackpool game and his mate Donervon Daniels all over the pitch except in the place he should have been every week. It was all about David Perkins’ engine and Captain Morgan’s commitment. It was about a forty-year-old goalie and fortysomethings running through the town centre in just their trainers. It was the season that Yanic Wildschut became a Wiganer and a bloke called Albert on a building site in London became a star. But as this is Wigan Athletic it was also about Joseph’s Goal and Juan Carlos Garcia.
Quite simply it was the season we got our club back.
“Up the Fucking Tics”.


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