Bournemouth were a quaint novelty when they began their Premier League adventure in the summer of 2015, with their tiny stadium, unfashionable British core of players and seaside homeliness, a combination that seemed to make people want to ruffle Eddie Howe’s hair, pinch his cheeks and give him a bar of chocolate as a reward for doing ever so well. It wasn’t going to last, of course. How could it? Look at the little scamps, with their tiny stadium, unfashionable British core and seaside homeliness, a combination that was surely going to get them relegated.
By the end of their first season in the top flight, however, it became more noticeable that a little weariness was being directed towards the fairytale club who rose from the brink of financial oblivion to the big time, Bournemouth fatigue an understandable response to an unfussy debut Premier League campaign. It was not that people were leaping off the bandwagon, more that it seemed as though the meat of the story had been chewed off the bone, and now there was nothing left for us to sink our teeth into. They were almost extinct, they came up from League Two, we get it. Change the record.
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