Burnley 2 Wolves 0 - match analysis

Although his team's progress over these first months of the season had not been entirely convincing, it was at least possible to see the new direction he is taking.

But those small steps at the beginning of a long journey became a fairly hefty stumble backwards on a miserable afternoon at Turf Moor.

The earlier aberrations at Cardiff and Leeds were part excused by unfamiliarity after so many summer changes. But this stinker came from a group who have been together for 10 games now and that made it the worst performance of the season – and a big shock to Solbakken's system.

Wolves were anaemic going forward, ponderous in possession and at times shambolic in defence. They were easily beaten by a Burnley team which did not have to do anything too remarkable other then take the gifts offered by their disjointed opposition and then man their stations dutifully to see out the game.

That control of possession Solbakken seeks was often there but it was passing for the sake of passing and lacked the urgency and tempo to present any kind of threat. Or, as supporters have come to know it, 'Hoddle football.'

And that's enough to send a shudder of apprehension down the spine of any self-respecting Wolves die-hard.

Some will feel this is the inevitable consequence of a new manager's designs clashings with an old manager's personnel.

And true, there must be players Solbakken has inherited who are just not suited to the game he is seeking. But equally, it may have been no more than too many players having a wretched day at the office at the same time.

Kevin Doyle, Sylvan Ebanks-Blake, Roger Johnson, Christophe Berra, even the normally immaculate Kevin Foley and, disappointingly, the recently-arrived Jermaine Pennant ... all were several degrees under the mean average of their form line.

No team is good enough to survive a performance in which they sit back and wait for things to happen but that was the Wolves imprint on this game as – and this is going to surprise no-one – it was left to Bakary Sako yet again to conjure the few moments that threatened to inject some life into Wolves.

In a final 25 minutes, when an exasperated Solbakken threw caution to the wind and re-fitted the team in a 3-4-3 set-up, that may have happened.

Sako lashed one of his 'specials' from 25 yards which came back off the post with such venom Ebanks-Blake wasn't sharp enough to finish the beckoning rebound.

The same Wolves striker also 'shouldered' an attempted header from another moment of ingenuity from Sako which should have brought a goal back.

There were one or two other skirmishes around Lee Grant's goal but these only served to cement the impression of a Wolves team lacking clarity in the mind as well as across the pitch.

And they were never going to be able to erase the impression of the first hour or more, in which their meek and mild football made it only too easy for Burnley to take their match-winning goals.

Their first, on 18 minutes, came out of nothing. But a clipped ball down the line by left-back Ben Mee found Martin Paterson scampering clear into far too much space between Foley and Johnson.

His finish, it must be said, was pretty special and probably had to be to beat Carl Ikeme, who, not too long later, was thankfully thwarting Dean Marney after a disconcerted Johnson had been caught in possession.

Johnson, having registered performances which have repaired his reputation with many supporters, had the kind of afternoon that was all too familiar last season but he should not be singled out for criticism. All around him, colleagues displayed the same uncertainty and confusion.

Never was that more apparent than in the second Burnley goal – a simple header from a corner by Charlie Austin which will again raise serious question marks about the wisdom of zonal marking. And whether Wolves have the players to deploy it effectively.

Solbakken's biggest problem, however, is at the other end of the pitch.

Watching Austin, a seemingly unremarkable player who comes alive when he moves within 30 yards of the goal, was like watching Ebanks-Blake four years ago, when the then bustling, bullish forward was propelling Wolves to the Premier League. That certainty, that absolute confidence in scoring, has vanished – and without it Ebanks-Blake is a much lesser animal.

Solbakken is left with an uncomfortable conclusion. Because without outstanding pace or great aerial prowess, I'm afraid the partnership with a labouring Doyle remains, like Wolves on Saturday, deeply unconvincing.

By Martin Swain