A VERY wise man once said Saturday afternoons covering Bolton Wanderers are fantastic – but it’s always the football that spoils it.

I have come to appreciate that sentiment at times in 2016, when travelling to an away game with the Whites had a strangely predictable air about it for the first five months of the year.

Case in point – Bristol City in March.

When Jimmy Phillips and Peter Reid got the nod to see the season out I’d longed for results to pick up, even if in my heart of hearts, I knew relegation was a foregone conclusion.

Both men were – and still are – a pleasure to work and while their appointment had come a little late to see any great tactical change, like most of the fans, I just wanted to see some fight. But no such luck.

That was the low point of 2016. Jimmy’s crestfallen expression as he tried to explain what had prompted a crushing 6-0 defeat was memorable, as was Reidy’s admission that he was so wound up by the result he put petrol in his diesel car on the way home and had to be towed.

It was a similar case at Fulham on the last day of the season. Fans memorably unfurled the “no effort, no hope” banner – but for me, the sight of young Rob Holding stood at the side of the pitch knowing he had played his last game for Wanderers was the saddest sight of all.

A few nights earlier I’d handed him The Bolton News’ player of the year trophy, to go with the plethora of other awards he’d collected.

Rob sat down with me for a good 15-minute chat, during which his passion for the club was utterly apparent. In the end, he had no choice but to move on and pursue a Premier League dream with Arsenal, raising money which has since been vital to help the club. But I can’t help but feel sad that the interview he gave that night never saw the light of day.

Fulham was a last hurrah in the Championship, and of course a late goal shattered any hope of saving some positive memories from the trip.

When Wanderers’ relegation was confirmed, one of my colleagues down in the Midlands who had covered Wolves in their descent from the Premier League told me the main difference between League One and the Championship.

“It’s great down there but don’t expect any food,” he warned.

He was right, to an extent. There hasn’t been any posh press grub like Brighton, or press rooms which buzz with gossip like Leeds United, Birmingham or Ipswich Town. But I think there has been a charm about most clubs I have visited so far in the first half of the season.

Walsall were terrific – I even got a traffic warning from the assistant manager Dean Holden as I drove down the M6.

Rochdale’s pre-match music, supplied by the superb Dave Sweetmore, was every bit as good as I remember it and the welcome at Chesterfield was fantastic, a credit to the staff there who have worked under some tough conditions of late.

What do those grounds have in common? Wanderers have managed to lose all three games. So perhaps it’s better that we forget about the pleasantries and I bring a flask for the second half of the campaign?

The award for least hospitable working environment goes to non-league Eastleigh, and the players may back me up on this one.

The local press pack indulged in an overnighter on the south coast, taking in a Chinese meal at the Peking Phoenix. The menu included such delicacies as ‘A Confusion of Cabbage’, ‘The Angry Chicken’, ‘Humanese Lamb’ and the ‘Amusement of Dumplings’ – but I digress, this has nothing to do with the match itself.

Slightly hungover and giddy from finding the street comic Benny Hill used to live on the night before, we turned up at the Silverlake Stadium to find absolute carnage.

Seats in the press box had been double booked, radio points weren’t working and I’d been placed in a completely different stand to Jack Dearden, who I had agreed to help for the BBC. On top of that, the pitch was six inches deep in mud and the Wanderers players did not seem to fancy it at all.

I can still see Wellington Silva, leaning against the end of the tunnel canopy, looking at the ground-staff furiously trying to drain the pitch of standing water for the umpteenth pitch inspection.

I still can’t understand how the referee allowed the game to play on. With hundreds of Bolton fans already in the stadium an hour before kick-off, I’m glad he did, even if we missed out on a second portion of confused cabbage.

Wanderers’ financial problems have been a running theme in 2016 and there have been times when I regretted not taking an accountancy degree.

I do long for the days when the main talking point was whether Johan Elmander or Ivan Klasnic should partner Kevin Davies up front, or whatever happened to Blerim Dzemaili.

In fact, match-days do give some blessed relief to some of the boardroom issues which remain a concern heading into 2017.

Winning games on a regular basis has become rather nice and – if I am honest – I have started to appreciate a good defensive performance since Phil Parkinson walked into the Macron.

Those ground out wins at AFC Wimbledon, Northampton Town and at home to Coventry and Shrewsbury have pleased me just as much as the more stylish ones against Sheffield United in the cup, or Gillingham.

Do I mind the odd snidely comment from the opposition fans or journalist about direct football? Nope.

I remember a time when Bolton got plenty. And how I miss those days, however unfair the criticism felt at the time.

Wanderers have rediscovered a way to win. My hope for 2017 is that nothing gets in the way, and that the supporters who stuck with the club during those dreadful months at the start of this year will get their reward.