Bolton Wanderers fan chronicles 75 years on terraces: Part 19: Freight Rover

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AND so on December 18, 1985, out of the blue and as manna from heaven came Phil Neal and his Liverpool play-mate, Colin Irwin, between them plenty of experience on the field but none in the more esoteric art of management.

Phil’s pedigree as a player was unquestionable, playing 50 times for his country and winning a clutch of domestic and European trophies at Anfield after becoming Bob Paisley’s first major signing in 1974.

Everyone, including myself, had great hopes for what he could do at Bolton but there was to be no instant turnaround. An ignominious 18th placed finish was achieved with virtually the same squad, although a few new additions did catch the eye.

Young winger Stuart Ripley was loaned from Middlesbrough and with Simon Farnworth losing confidence in goal, David Felgate was brought in from Grimsby to play 15 of the 16 remaining league games.

Late on in the 1985/86 season two young players were introduced to the team who were to make significant contributions in the years to come.

Mark Winstanley was a local lad from Newton-le-Willows who was a YTS recruit under John McGovern, a defender who established himself well during some of the most exciting years in Wanderers’ history.

Following him was a Bolton boy, Julian Darby, a former England schoolboy who had appeared in the reserves at 15 and made his first team debut aged 18 on March 31, 1986. During the next three seasons he played in no fewer than nine positions and thereafter remained a constant in the team, albeit one never fully appreciated by the Burnden regulars.

An 18th placed finish went into the record books as the lowest ever achieved by a Bolton team but Neal at least had the excuse of a cup run as an alibi for the mediocre league record. For within weeks of his arrival the team was engaged in a series of Freight Rover Trophy matches, the more they won and Wembley loomed, the more of a distraction it became.

The competition had hardly set the town on fire until the two-legged Northern Final against Wigan Athletic.

The first leg at Springfield Park was a fiercely fought affair which had 0-0 written all over it as we pushed our way off the visitors behind-the-goal terrace towards the exit. Just as we did so, a Wanderers attack developed and a long throw found Mark Gavin on the left wing. Receiving and controlling the ball, he swung in a cross for Tony Caldwell, with something of the cavalier, untutored attitude of his earlier years, dispatched it into the net for a 1-0 lead.

The second leg three days later was the stuff dreams are made of – even though Paul Jewell wiped out the advantage within a minute, pouncing on Steve Thompson’s error.

Midway through the second half George Oghani put Bolton back ahead, forcing the ball past Roy Tunks in the Wigan goal, after which the remaining 20 minutes were played in a cauldron of noise.

It was only two minutes from time that more Oghani magic gave Caldwell the chance to put the game beyond doubt and Wanderers fans could start chanting “Wembley here we come!”

It may have only been a Micky Mouse cup but it was Wembley. Gates had averaged less than 5,000 but Boltonians would surely shake themselves out of their sleep and present themselves in thousands in the capital. It was 28 years since we had been there, my son Mike just six months old and daughter Jan not yet born. God willing, they would be there to swell the numbers.

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That the anticipation surpassed the realisation cannot be gainsaid. Apprehensive at the knowledge Bristol City had slaughtered the Wanderers 4-0 only a month before we could only hope a crowd of 54,502 would help the team play above itself. Unfortunately, from the moment early in the game when a shot from Caldwell hit the bar, the writing was on the wall.

A punch and a flap from Simon Farnworth, playing his first game for several months apart from that ill-fated one in Bristol a few week beforehand, meant the game was effectively over 20 minutes from full time. Bolton pushed hard to halve the deficit but left gaps, and the Robins scored a third.

On the way back home we consoled ourselves that if Felgate had been in goal, the result would have been different. The truth, however, is that the team just was not good enough.

Phil Neal could not have been entirely disappointed, having led a team to Wembley after barely six months in charge. Next season would be different, we would surely see the upturn… Wouldn’t we?