Express & Star

The Tim Spiers debrief – Wolves 2 Manchester United 1

Molineux hosted one of its finest hours as Wolves downed the might of Manchester United.

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Wolves beat Man United 2-1 on a night to remember at Molineux (© AMA SPORTS PHOTO AGENCY)

They’re in the FA Cup semi-finals for the first time in 21 years.

Coming of age

This kind of thing just doesn’t happen to Wolverhampton Wanderers.

We’ve become well accustomed to seeing other clubs of a similar size achieve great things and wondered ‘why can’t that be Wolves?’. Finally, it is.

After decades of indifference, of torment, of anguish and of seemingly endless false dawns, their time is now.

We’ve witnessed numerous magical moments and matches since Nuno Espirito Santo began transforming this perennial Championship outsider and chronic underachiever into one of top-level European football’s most exciting ‘new boys’ inside the space of just 20 months.

Cardiff away with two penalties spurned, a carnage comeback against Chelsea at home, outplaying and beating Spurs at Wembley, triumphing in the Battle of Boro with nine men, Bristol City in the last minute – they’re momentous memories to never be erased or repressed.

This topped the lot.

An FA Cup quarter-final, the most eagerly-awaited tie of the round, live on prime time BBC. There was an abundance of hype and so much expectation – but Wolves lived up to it.

They beat grand old Manchester United at a rabid Molineux in front of the watching nation. And they do so convincingly.

The national narrative is that United didn't up. They looked tired. Solskjaer got it wrong.

No. Wolves stopped them playing, Nuno out-schooled Ole, Wolves were the better team, they played superior football, they won it on merit.

It was Nuno's finest hour. And it was a ‘coming of age’ performance and result for this blossoming team.

Nuno’s game plan was enacted to the letter. They sat deep early on, dismissed the notion of an early United goal and blunted the visitors’ potent attack.

After feeling their way into the game, via the coaxing influence of the inspirational Joao Moutinho, they grew in belief and confidence.

From the 30-minute mark onwards they were undoubtedly the better team.

They produced silkier football, they yearned for opportunities and craved victory with a will to win and lustful desire that United simply couldn’t match.

They combined brains and brawn, artistry and brutality, regimental organisation and exquisite elegance. What a team Nuno has assembled.

Everyone played their part. A co-ordinated back line protected John Ruddy like burly bodyguards wearing suits and sunglasses escorting a world-famous rock star through an airport.

Leander Dendoncker stayed so close to Paul Pogba he’d be able to pick out the Frenchman’s aftershave from a blind smell test.

On the flanks the buzzing Matt Doherty and Jonny Castro Otto were perpetual pesterers in both defence and attack.

Between them the magnificent Moutinho and his partner in crime Ruben Neves, the Portuguese artisans, set to work on dismantling United’s susceptible defence, picking holes with pacey precision passes.

Masters of their craft, Moutinho and Neves, like all the great artists, had substance to back up their style, displaying beaver-like work ethic to tirelessly collect the logs for Diogo Jota and Raul Jimenez to gnash and gnaw on.

Moutinho, after a slip inside the eye of United’s mind, teed up Jimenez for the first goal, Neves passed to Jota for the second.

Ah yes, the second goal.

A few minutes earlier Jimenez had adeptly surprised the excellent Sergio Romero (who must be just about the best back-up goalkeeper on the planet) with a brisk finish on the turn.

It was a special moment, but it was beaten by that magnificent second from Jota.

Completely on his own in the United half, the undeterred Jota barged his way past the hapless Luke Shaw who was left resembling like a DNA double helix.

Jota picked his spot and surprised Romero at his near post with a low, true strike that took the roof off Molineux.

It was classic Jota. Persistence, courage and robustness but with the skill and accuracy at the finish.

In the stands they played their part too.

Anarchic, disbelieving screams greeted both goals in a riotous manner rarely heard inside WV1.

The wolf packed howled as their heroes feasted on United’s bones – the home advantage card had well and truly been played.

Occasions such as these are commonplace for a club like United. They’ve won more trophies than any club in the land, they’ve just beaten PSG in the most remarkable Champions League tie, FA Cup quarter-finals are an annual tradition.

Wolves’ annual tradition is being knocked out of the League Cup by a lower division minnow.

Their newfound status as English football’s new kids on the block will take some getting used to, for this is a fanbase far more familiar with failure.

Those lucky enough to watch the glory days of the 1950s have been largely underwhelmed by what they’ve seen since.

The 1970s generation came close and won a couple of League Cups.

But anyone who started from the doldrums of the 1980s onwards, brought up on tales of Wolves as the best club in the land, have been almost eternally frustrated by decades of dissatisfaction.

For this correspondent defeats to Bolton and Palace in the play-offs are etched in the memory, or 1998 at Villa Park when McGhee left Bully and Keane on the bench, successive relegations to League One, apathy under Hoddle, year after year of underachievement in the 1990s despite spending more cash than many top flight teams.

Sure there’s been great players, cherished memories and success; Championship titles, promotions, Cardiff 2003, a few years in the top flight here and there, the odd cup run.

But nothing as tangible as this.

Wolverhampton Wanderers, after almost four decades on the fringes of England's elite, are back where they belong.

Nights like Saturday may become the norm in the coming years, Fosun certainly hope and believe so.

But at the moment a giddy, pure, almost childlike excitement has engulfed this club.

The suffering has been worthwhile. Wolves, your time is now.

Watford in wait

And so on to Wembley where Wolves will face Watford for a place in the 2019 FA Cup final.

Win or lose it’s been a season – and an FA Cup run – to remember.

The teams are also going head to head for seventh place and a possible Europa League spot. They’re evenly matched and Watford won at Molineux in October, but Nuno’s boys will fancy their chances. After all, they’ve just beaten Manchester United.

Clear your diary for the weekend of April 6/7. It’s going to be some ride.

Final word

Star man: Joao Moutinho

The boss: Enhanced demigod reputation

Fans: Feral

Magic moment: How much time have you got?

In a word: Euphoric

Picture perfect:

© AMA / Molly Darlington