It comes to them all eventually. At Molineux, a stadium half-full but packed with unexpected cheer, Graham Potter stood on the touchline, motionless and disbelieving. He had the mid-distance stare of a manager desperately trying to remember when he was last happy in this position. “Before West Ham,” is the usual answer.

The EFL Cup had, with a degree of cruelty, pitched together two point-less Premier League clubs. As West Ham took a 2-1 lead, travelling hordes crowed at their team’s usual ineptitude: “How shit must you be, we’re winning away?”.

They knew. West Ham, a team simultaneously full of international experience yet with a chronic absence of leadership, crumpled again. At full-time, Jarrod Bowen – the only pure exception to the misery – was held back by teammates from crossing th

See Full Page