The Diary

03 March 2004: Jay Chambo's Finest Hour?

Hello, good evening, and welcome from a very sore and stiff Baggie indeed. The reason? After all that wandering in leisurely fashion around the streets of Norwich yesterday, my back and legs totally disowned me, but when entering Carrow Road last night, I consoled myself with the happy thought that I could remain on my posterior for the whole 90 minutes. Wrong! Confucius he say, never forget the adrenalin-inducing properties of top-of-the-table ?run-in? clashes; as a result, I ended up standing for much of the time, and come the end of the game, I really was cross-eyed with agony. Just as well my other half was able to assist me back to The Dickmobile, then, wasn?t it?

Our journey back to the Midlands was slightly lengthened because we had to drop The Fart off in Stirchley; as he exited our vehicle, as per usual, we asked if he?d taken all his stuff with him (it?s not unknown for his belongings to ?surface? in the back of our car days or weeks after the game in question!) and as per usual, The Fart said, ?Yes?. Bidding him farewell, we then headed back for GD Towers, but when we got there, on opening the boot, what did we find? Yep, those fridge-magnets I told you about in yesterday?s offering! At least he?ll be getting his errant goods back; tomorrow, our venerable co-editor will be making a special journey to our gaff to reclaim his spoils once more.

Once home, it was then a case of a swift visit to ?powder my nose?, then launching straight into last night?s epic, which I finally wrapped up come around five in the morning. Back downstairs to speed-read last night?s E and S before thankfully retiring to my pit, then up once more after around four hours kip to visit The Shrine and pick up some Ipswich tickets, plus a Stoke car park pass, price ?5. Incidentally, apropos the latter, as of yesterday, there were around 50 on sale at our Ticket Office on a ?first come, first served? basis; I don?t know how many are left now (we visited around lunchtime today), but as car-parking is such a pain in the posterior at The Britannia Stadium (the local traffic wardens have all the predatory instincts of vultures: don?t say I didn?t warn you!), anyone reading this and contemplating taking their jalopy to the Potteries could do worse than call in the T/O and see if there?s any left. Once back home, I then set out to catch up on my Guardian, but a combination of strong pain-killers and lack of sleep finally supervened, and I ended up snoring for England on our settee instead.

Oh, and another thing. This morning, we had a phone call from The Fart telling us that highlights of yesterday?s game were being shown on Sky right now, so being the good little Baggies we are, we tuned in. As the programme had been underway for quite some time, I didn?t get chance to see a rerun of the contentious ?hand-ball? thingy, but what I did manage to see was the incident involving Jay Chambo and Huckerby, in which the former was alleged to have taken out the latter from behind, and on the edge of the box as well, just to give the whole thing added piquancy. My take on what was a very sore subject for the Canaries at the time? I had thought that there was something in their protests when it happened, but having seen the replay for myself, now, I?m not so sure. Chambo clearly tried to play the ball, and there was no malice whatsoever in what he did. In fact, after watching the recording several times, I believe he did manage to get a touch on the blasted thing, if only a glancing one, but it?s a whale of difference between making your mind up in the relative calm of your living-room, and having to call it right within milliseconds of the problem in question happening right under your nose, and with eleven emotional players, an irate manager, plus a chock-full Canary cage simultaneously baying for Baggie blood.

What with that, plus the still-contentious business of whether it really was a case of Norwich ?hand to ball?, or ?ball to Norwich hand? regarding the ?penalty-that-wasn?t? incident, then it only serves to highlight the urgent need for match officials to have some sort of technological assistance to hand when making these decisions. I really for the life of me cannot understand football?s seeming reluctance to take such aids on board. We know the technology exists: just watch any international rugby game on the box, and you?ll see precisely what I mean. These days, incidents like the ones we saw yesterday evening can cost clubs one whole lot of money; in the case of Albion and Norwich, several millions, as both sides are currently engaged in a neck-and-neck automatic promotion race that looks like going right down to the wire. In those situations, it?s absolutely imperative referees award decisions correctly, and what?s more, are seen to do so with total confidence. I really am convinced that the only way the game?s leaders will finally see sense is the time in the future when Sir Alex and/or Arsene are left apoplectic by the antics of an inept whistler during the course of some crunch game or another. Should that ever happen, rest assured you?ll hear the resultant screams of anguish from here to FA HQ in London, then back again.

Watching those highlights today also served to confirm something I?d mentally noted during last night?s game: the wonderful man-marking job Jay Chambo did on Huckerby. A couple of nerve-jangling incidents apart, you?d have thought someone had joined the two by the use of invisible wire, or some very elastic but tenacious super-glue. And it came to pass that wheresoever The Blessed Darren went, so wenteth The Sainted Chambo! I?m now left wondering whether Huckerby was still nervously looking over his shoulder for Jay?s presence when he finally visited the bog for his essential post-match slash? Certainly, Sky thought he was the business, because they game him their Man Of The Match Award, and thoroughly-deserved it was, too. Especially pleasing for me, as I?d no idea whatsoever he?d been presented with that bottle of bubbly following the final whistle. Don?t work up a sweat about it, though, Jay: you?ll probably find yourself relegated to the bench again come this Saturday?s game!

Talking about looking nervously over shoulders, the fact Sunderland won tonight means, theoretically, at least, they could catch us between now and the end of the season. They currently have three games in hand over us, and are around nine points behind. Mind you, so many aspirant Premiership outfits are taking (and unexpectedly dropping) valuable points these days, I?d be very surprised indeed if The Mackems did embark on a winning run of similar proportions to the one we started two seasons ago. Poor Tony Fowles, of Ironworks Gazette fame, is still left completely flummoxed by this peculiarly-maddening aspect of our division this term! I know, because he keeps telling me by way of numerous phone calls and emails! Oh ? and by the way, according to The Noise last night, our game yesterday saw, more or less, the anniversary of the last game we lost that promotion season, versus Millwall ? and at the same stage this time round, we?re one point ahead in the race. Read into that what you will.

At the other end of the table, it?s started to look a tad grim for The Saddlers, who were tonight?s Wearside victims, of course. Sure, it?s looking very much as though those bottom two relegation places ? Wimbledon and Bradford - have now been decided, so there now follows an almighty scrap to sort out the third. Derby only got a point tonight, so Walsall?s plight could have been much, much worse. To see them stuck at the wrong end of the table comes as quite a surprise to me; at the start, I?d genuinely thought they?d finish halfway up or better, especially after that 4-goal demolition job they did on us at their place, but since Christmas, it all seems to have gone a bit pear-shaped for them. As I?ve got something of a soft spot for Walsall, I really do hope they can pull out of it without too much anguish on their part.

And finally?.. I?m having a rest until Friday night, so no jottings tomorrow. What I will do before I go, though, is tell you of a Radio WM Fans? Forum which will be on ?live? between six and eight that evening. Paul Franks is the host, and there will also be representatives from Dingletown, Walsall, Villa, Blues present - plus our very own Old Fart, of course! ? and all waxing lyrical about matters close to the heart of their own particular favourites. The moral of the story? For some intelligent and rationally-argued debate about red-hot local football topics, shift your dial in that direction, pronto. You know it makes sense!

 - Glynis Wright

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