One of the reasons why Forest fans were so ecstatic to win promotion is that we knew football would be interesting again.
And interesting it certainly has been.
One month in and already there has been delirious highs and razor blade lows in almost equal measure.
Today, if I may state the ludicrously obvious, was something of a low.
There was almost literally no contest; it was a thorough whitewash, and excruciating viewing from the first whistle.
The Wolves players could very well have played the game in tuxedos; sipping champagne and tapping cigars as the Forest players waved them genially by.
It was a thorough rout, it was a comprehensive drubbing, it was men against boys, it was – frankly – as many clichés as you see fit to throw at it.
In the early stages we were visibly intimidated, and as Wolves moved up the gears we were rattled. The Forest response was disquietingly submissive.
At 2-0 I feared the worst, at 3-0 I lost grip of any distant and absurd notion of a fight-back, at 4-0 I was driven to an apathetic smirk.
There is a point in almost all situations when the mind releases you from all sense of concern; a recognition of inevitability, and a resulting comfort.
Being on the receiving end of a 4-0 scoreline at half-time represented that moment this afternoon.
At that point a total humiliation is a certainty, and those who can manage to do so begin offering their chins to bear the impact.
Circumstances as they were, I spent most of the second half observing the mise en scène - that is, everything but the pitch itself.
There was the usual full-hearted attempt from a brave few who stood, scowling though they were, and sang to themselves.
Others frothed with rage and targeted players within earshot for savage abuse; occasionally picking brawls with natives sat 80 yards away.
The majority took in the remainder of the game in a stoic silence, momentarily rising to gesticulate at another wayward pass.
In reality it could have been double figures this afternoon if Wolves hadn’t slipped into neutral.
They struck the bar, saw a goal ruled out for offside, had Smith deny them from point-blank range – and they had countless other attempts whistle inches wide.
So what does all of this mean? I’m not sure.
For one thing I don’t think it’s time for panic stations just yet.
Only a few days ago we were satisfied by a brave effort against Sunderland and still beaming after the three points against Watford.
The concern comes in defence, where we have shipped ten goals in the opening four league matches.
Another concern is our away performances, which have – all things considered – been absolutely atrocious thus far.
But there is almost certainly enough about this side, especially when it is purring and moving forward with flair, to guarantee a mid-table finish.
It’s just a shame that our first ‘real away day’ since spending three years in League One had to be ruined by the football itself.
Forest fans filled the away section at Molineux as we have so many times before.
But whilst the fans always turn out at Wolves, the Forest teams rarely do, and today we have taken that to another level.
