BEFORE the hurly-burly begins, folk start to dissect the new owner’s business background and make assumptions based on what they find on the internet, I thought it wise to jot down a few notes.

Wanderers, God-wiling, will have a new name above the door when I next pen this column in a fortnight’s time.

At time of writing I don’t know exactly who will buy the club from Ken Anderson – a sentence typed with gritted teeth, I can tell you – but I’m going to use this moment of clarity to pen a few observations I think could help in the weeks, months and years ahead.

First of all, you are not picking up a crisis club, you are picking up a club in crisis. There is nothing inherently wrong with Bolton Wanderers and provided you realise and respect what you have bought into, the folk here are as loyal as anywhere in the land.

There is a generation of younger fans who only knew Premier League days. And much of what has happened to the club in the last decade must have come as a shock. But there are also many who can tell you what Division Four was like, or why the 1,500 who turned up at Burnden Park to watch an Autoglass Trophy game against Rochdale were the lucky ones. Relegation, if that is Wanderers’ fate, won’t faze them.

This is not London. It isn’t even Manchester. Bolton is much more than the mill town some down south paint it to be – but it clings on to its working-class roots with pride. To be a success here you have to have a common touch and understand how hard folk work to earn the money coming through your turnstiles.

The University of Bolton Stadium may not have the town centre position that Burnden once did, more is the pity, but the club remains at the very heart of the community. When Wanderers do well, Bolton is a completely different place to be.

If you are in doubt, park up in the town centre and have a walk around. I might even shout you a coffee.

Since promotion in 2016/17, when thousands packed outside the town hall to celebrate a return to the Championship, something has gone awry. How closely you link the team’s results with the lack of investment is a discussion for another day, but people have fallen out of love with the football club and that passion needs to be rekindled.

Embrace this club’s incredible history. Read up on Nat Lofthouse, the man whose statue stands proudly outside the ground, the glorious team of the twenties, the White Hot era under Bruce Rioch, Colin Todd’s title-winners or Big Sam Allardyce’s glorious Premier League run. And don’t forget, there is a legion of former players who would move Heaven and Earth to help.

Once you have done your homework, it is time to tempt the fans back.

Season tickets and match pricing has not only got to be realistic, it has to be downright attractive, particularly if you are asking people to turn up in League One.

Expectations have to be reasonable. Crowds at Championship level are roughly on-par with how they have been at this level for 50-plus years. There will be times and occasions where the 20,000-mark can be hit but to expect that on a weekly basis outside the Premier League is ridiculous. That is just a fact.

The stadium once stood as a bright white testimony to a Premier League dream but has gradually faded to a grimy grey. Understand that as a workplace and as a venue there is much remedial work to be done.

But before all that, before considering a ticket pricing strategy, recruitment budgets, PR campaigns or giving the place a lick of paint, take a look around the stadium and thank each and every one of the people who have kept that club going in the most difficult circumstances imaginable.

The club’s heartbeat is still strong and it is entirely down to the folk who worked under intense stress, unpaid even, but did so for the love of Bolton Wanderers.

Whatever money you intend to put into this business, I guarantee you will never be able to buy that.