Formidable, furious and best of all fun... Swindon Town drown Bolton with relentless red wave

The task at hand was always going to be substantial.

Bolton Wanderers are challenging for promotion to the Championship.

Among League One teams, only Stevenage have conceded fewer league goals than the Trotters this season. Only Bradford City have been beaten less often in that division this term.

Bolton pass the ball cleverly, boast serious pace out wide, and operate at a considerably higher technical level than most of the opposition Swindon Town have faced and will face at their current station.

And then there was the selection situation.

On Saturday, for various reasons relating to fitness and suspension, Swindon did not or were not able to give minutes to their senior centre-forward (Ollie Palmer), their senior centre-back (Ryan Tafazolli), their most consistent player (Finley Munroe), their most creative forward (Darren Oldaker), and - for good measure - all their left-footers.

Oh, and they lost Will Wright to injury at half-time.

But they had Connor Ripley: a giant presence in the crowd, making a nonsense of the doubting noises of recent weeks.

And they had Joel McGregor, tenacious to the last, whom Bolton had to politely ask to return their wingers at the final whistle.

And they had Jamie Knight-Lebel, danger-thwarter-in-chief and a defensive presence reborn.

And they had Filozofe Mabete, combative and unrelenting in proving to his manager that he belongs in this team after brief exile.

And they had Gavin Kilkenny, the little genius gliding around midfield with the elegance and class of an Olympic figure skater.

And they had Tom Nichols: Mr Disruptor - part workhorse, part battering ram. The beating heart of this side.

And they had Ollie Clarke, who is understood to have spent Saturday night sleep-gegenpressing around his living room.

And they had Joe Snowdon, a dynamic attacking threat on the flank, always moving, always looking to create.

And they had Billy Bodin, selfless throughout, running hard yards to the benefit of his teammates.

And they had Aaron Drinan: a force of nature. Right foot, header, left foot – the perfect hat-trick to mark a practically perfect individual performance.

It was formidable. It was furious. It was frenetic.

And do you know the best part? It was just so much fun.

It’s part of a fan’s privilege to get carried away by any particular performance, or even an element of that performance. Particularly at Swindon’s station, if you can’t over-indulge when the times are good, what’s the point?

But it does not feel hyperbolic to brand that display as the most complete Swindon Town performance of the decade. There are few that rival it, dating way back to the era of Paolo Di Canio.

Bolton did not turn up and roll over. They came to play, they came to progress, and this Town team simply did not allow them to do so. They did not allow them so much as a moment to think. They did not allow them to breathe.

As the heavens opened, Swindon’s red wave overwhelmed their guests: constantly in motion, constantly working for each other, constantly causing chaos.

Bolton, and particularly the away side’s defensive line, did not have the buoyancy to withstand it. By the end, their fans on the Stratton Bank were soaked through, and the team themselves were drowning.

It was absurdly good. Almost incomprehensibly so.

Are Swindon teams really allowed to be like this? Surely a display of such unmitigated effort, energy, creativity and class comes with an FA charge? An EFL points deduction? There must be a debenture or two due to be called up? No?! What do you mean football can leave you feeling this way?!

That feeling, by the way, is pride. Pride in your team. It has been a passing interest of County Ground crowds over the past decade, as supporters have been manhandled, mistreated and served up false dawn after disappointment.

But the atmosphere within the stadium at 4.30pm on Saturday was different. It was an atmosphere of togetherness, of enjoyment, of mutual appreciation – the sort of atmosphere that bonds teams and fans, and delivers an increasing volume of success.

That it came just a matter of days after Ian Holloway attempted to end the to and fro about fan opinion, volume and support was poignant. It felt as though this was him speaking to the crowd through the performance of his players.

Message received. Message appreciated. Message celebrated.