As the teams came out, it was hard not to think back to that mirage-like memory of the season’s first day: blazing sunshine; gf in-tow (she doesn’t even pretend to be interested any more); new players scoring new kinds of goals; clean sheets, thugs and harmony. Fast forward to today: Wigan, unbeaten in yonks; us, wilting like a ginger wrapped in cling film at the seaside.