The Diary

28 March 2004: Eagles Crash-Land And Lloydy Busts His Nationwide Cherry!

One down, eight glorious games to go ? and things are now hotting up, big time, including tempers, if our leader?s post-match interview (see the end of my piece) is any sort of guide. Our late, late show kept Sunderland off our backs, of course ? shame they also came up with the goods this afternoon ? but our ?automatic? escape attempt was greatly assisted by that nice Mr. Warnock at Cardiff tonight ? or should I really thank their keeper, for cocking up what should have been a bog-standard gathering-up of the bladder from that Cardiff free-kick just before half-time?

If ever there was an ?oh, whoops!? moment, that was surely it, and I?ll bet the guy?s eardrums weren?t half banging by the time his gaffer had a few quiet half-time words of ?advice? in his shell-like! Whichever way you care to look at it, what with that winner from the Principality?s Neanderthals, that?s them out of the promotion equation, more or less, and serve the buggers right; as I see it, we now only have to concern our pretty little heads with Sunderland, who could still do it, of course. I?m still pinning great hopes of that Cup semi being their undoing. Talking of which, their Sunday opponents, Millwall, could pose a theoretical threat, of course, but that draw of theirs this afternoon didn?t help their cause either.

This morning, though, we had weightier things on our minds than promotion rivals ? in response to the announcement that our end-of-season thrash was going to be on the Viking theme, ?Im Indoors called into Toys ?R Us to suss out whether they had any horny helmets in stock at their Oldbury branch. Sadly, it seems that kids these days don?t go in for historical dramas, so a Plan ?B? is called for. We have located the address of a firm ? Reading based, ironically enough! ? that can meet our needs, but Anc also tells me that the items in question are easily obtainable from any theatrical/fancy dress hire shop in the area. Just give ?em a bell.One firm in particular has been warned, so Anc tells me!

There was also great consternation in the Wright household this morning, on account of a phone message I received around eleven o?clock. The caller? The Noise?s beloved, would you believe? The news wasn?t good, sadly. According to Jayne, during the hours of darkness, some dastardly pathogen or another had sneaked into our talkative chum?s nasopharyngeal regions (that?s ?yer clack? in good old-fashioned Black Country, dear reader!) and left him totally bereft of the power of speech, not to mention a thumping great temperature and headache, which left the ?patient? in bed, and doing lots of variations on a theme of ?ooohhh?, apparently. Those who have fallen victim to our co-editor?s friction-burned tongue in the past might argue convincingly that the illness constituted a great improvement, but the upshot of it all was we wouldn?t be having the pleasure of our tame Gatling-gob?s company that day. Miss one home game in ten years just because of a little germ? Bloody part-timer!

Oh, well ? the show must go on, with or without those bloody vocals. Lucky, then, we?d shifted most of our outstanding stock for the current issue, so off to the ground we toddled an hour or so later, but armed with a bijou version of our enormous back-pack this time. Quite a surprise when we entered the doomed Throstle Club together; despite what I perceived to be the great importance of today?s game, the place was sparsely occupied. Perhaps most of our followers didn?t feel the ingestion of Dutch courage in quantity strictly necessary? Well, not that early, at any rate. And, when I went to the bar to stack up on our own liquid needs, another surprise. It looked very much as though the agency supplying the bar staff had decided to dispense with a workforce that couldn?t understand English (or, worse still, relying on people who didn?t know all that much about bar-work, and, more to the point, didn?t want to know) and travelled along the ?student? route instead.

Certainly, the young lady that served me positively shrieked ?University? ? the plummy voice, the vocabulary used, the clothes, the mannerisms, everything. Oh well, if it helps thirsty Baggies get their pre-match fix with a minimum of fuss, then I?m all for it. Another thought about the Throstle Club ? when we arrived, we had discussions with a committee member about finding alternative premises next season. Something will have to be done, because our promised replacement is predicated upon us staying in the Promised Land for at least three seasons ? a big ?ask? in anyone?s book. With that in mind, it could be we?ll have a very long wait before the new premises are open for business! The committee do have a couple of irons in the fire, which offers a glimmer of reassurance, I suppose. Let?s hope something concrete is put in place long before the start of season 04-05 is well and truly upon us.

Oh ? and another vagrant thought. We?d just greeted The Fart as he rolled into the billiards room when a most strange announcement was made over the Throstle Club?s internal PA system ? for a Mr. William Tell, would you believe? At first I thought it was someone perpetrating a rather tedious wind-up at the expense of the poor chaps on the door, but no ? the announcement was absolutely kosher, and the sender was genuinely waiting somewhat impatiently for the guy in the foyer! Did the recipient have an apple on his head, I wonder? ?Im Indoors then cheekily suggested the other party was ?making overtures? ? and The Fart wondered why I hit him.

What with that, The Noise?s illness, and our abortive search for Viking war apparel, today was certainly panning out like no other normal matchday ? assuming anyone can actually define the meaning of the word ? normal? when uttered in an Albion context, of course! It didn?t help, either, to see our leader?s face plastered all over a load of E and S hoardings, digitally dubbed onto the body (and ?scrambled-egg? encrusted peaked cap) of General Kitchener, one-time victor in the Khartoum campaign, but perhaps better known as the inspiration for all those familiar1914 patriotic exhortations to enlist ? but with a difference. This time round, the legend simply read: ?ALBION NEED YOU!? What similarities of character (and so forth) the pair of them share is most certainly open to conjecture: at this point, perhaps, it might be politic of me not to draw the analogy any further!

After that, it was very familiar faces all the way during our selling routine ? with the possible exception of the elderly gentleman who?d been eagerly awaiting our arrival, was parked in a place known to be infested by the Yellow Peril, and wanted subscription details ? like quickly, so he could move his endangered wheels! We also bumped into - easy, as he?s taller than Tommy Gaardsoe ? Olly, a Baggie from Scandinavia way, plus charming wife. Not only did they take in today?s game, they?re also staying in this country to see Stratford On Avon tomorrow. And, keeping up the illustrious tradition of Baggies that see games via the blessings of cheap airlines, there was Tony from Ireland, bejabers. Plus Jean and Michelle, of Supporters? Club notoriety, of course. Not long after that, Anc turned up, fresh from their Boing F.C. encounter with those nice people from westbrom.com. The trophy up for grabs was the Boing Challenge Cup, so I?m told, and the Boing lot emerged the victors by a stonking 9-5 margin. Man Of The Match? Baggie Bird, confusingly enough ? he got four! (Don?t ask!)

Anc reckons as it was their first 11 a side game proper, the lads done well. It did get a bit fraught during the first half, though, which meant the Boing lot ended up doing Michael Winner ? ?Calm down, dear, it?s only an avertisement?..? impersonations like nothing on earth for the benefit of the opposition. And all because the other gaffer (Matt Wright) clapped eyes on the trophy, and promptly had a ?Smeagol moment? as per Lord Of The Rings ? ?My precioussssss, I ssssshall have itsssss?.? Right on the spot. Allegedly. Still, it all sounded a great laugh, and the Boing lot are really eager to recruit more spectators to join in the fun. Anyone wanting to know more about future couplings, just talk to that nice Mr. Anc sometime! Not tonight, though ? the whole lot of ?em went to the dogs by way of celebration! (Cue for joke, there?)

Duty finally done, we then shifted rapidly into the ground with oodles of time to spare ? Steve The Miser simply can?t understand why the access problems constantly plaguing the Brummie Road turnstiles don?t affect those in Halfords Lane! ? and time to take in what support the opposition had brought with them. I thought they?d done well, that Eagle contingent in the Smethwick, but ?Im Indoors was of the opinion their numbers were well down on what they should have been given their League standing prior to kick-off. But never mind all that, the team news beckoned ? and the news was mixed. Out was Jason Koumas, relegated to the subs bench for this one, and in his place Our Tim Of Macedonia. The second change was predictable; no Horse, sadly, but we had Rob Hulse up front instead, with Hughsie playing the football equivalent of music hall?s ?straight man?. One vagrant thought, though: it ain?t half taking our equine friend a long time to get over that ?calf injury?, isn?t it? The third change? Much to my surprise, Chambo was given the nod in place of Bernt Hass.

Quite a contrast, may I say, to the expectant and exciting scene that greeted us some two seasons ago, when we played Palace that momentous, glorious, and most certainly unforgettable April final day. 2-0 was the scoreline then, and sunny was the clime; today, by way of contrast, The Shrine was surrounded by banks of lowering grey cloud, and there was a distinct absence of spring warmth about the place, but it was still imperative we emerged from this one on the winning side. There was, however a vestige of the tingling atmosphere that had made that final encounter so fraught back then, and as far as the Palace followers were concerned, the feeling was mutual ? they also had a vested interest in the outcome, however tenuous.

Had this game been a boxing match, then I would have said without fear of contradiction we won the first half on points. We certainly started off the better side of the two ? or was this all part of the Palace game-plan to let us come to them, I wonder? Whatever the reason, most of our 3-5-2 traffic was in the direction of the Palace goal; both Hughsie and his striking partner Hulse came quite close early-doors. The problem was, as ever, we simply couldn?t apply what the bullfighting fraternity might term the ?coup de grace? to the visitors? net, and God alone knows how many chances we had to do so. Mind you, with about 15 minutes to go before the break, Our Tim nearly cracked it. From a free-kick on the edge of the box, it was, and I have to say their keeper did bloody well to turn the thing away for the corner. By the time the end of the half drew nigh, it really seemed as though we?d begun to exhaust our current stock of ideas; indeed, we were almost caught napping when ?their AJ? managed to get the ball and was just about to let fly when some blue and white stripey person managed to make a timely intervention. Phew!

On to the interval, then, and the news from elsewhere made it abundantly clear we had to get something from this game if only to keep bloody Sunderland at arms-length. While everyone else was pondering mightily on the implications of other scores for our favourite football team, I was in the (lengthy) queue for the toilet. Come the turn of the lady in front to enter a vacant cubicle, she passed up her chance and told me to take it instead! Just what was going on, I wondered, but the lady?s explanation made perfect sense afterwards. She wanted to enter her ?lucky? bog, that one only, and substitutes most certainly not accepted! Well, it has my own concept of ?lucky knickers? beaten by a country mile, I suppose!

Back to the matter in hand once more, and come the start of the second period, it seemed pretty much as though Palace had decided to take a much more ?in yer face? route to possible success. They certainly managed to force us deeper and deeper, and what didn?t help was an annoying tendency on our part to give the ball away relatively cheaply. Sound familiar? Having said that, though, not long after the start, Hughsie did let fly with one hell of a belter that the Palace custodian did bloody well just to shift away for the corner ? again!

Ten minutes or so into the half, and our manager decided a change was called for ? but it wasn?t what the groundlings wanted, or expected, even. Off came Sakiri, and on came Jason Koumas; a ?like for like? swap, really. The problem was, the Macedonian international had made a really good fist of his chance to shine over the first 45, and his relegation to the watching ranks early in the second didn?t go down at all well with the majority of our support. There was even an outbreak of booing in the ranks, an occurrence which was the subject of much vituperative comment on the part of our gaffer during that post-match interview I mentioned earlier. In retrospect, I can see the psychology that prompted the change: our leader was gambling on the presumption that Scouse Jase would be as sore as hell about being dropped, and given his chance once more, he would play out of his skin to get back into favour with his gaffer once more. And, fair play to our leader, the ploy did seem to work to a degree; certainly, in terms of workrate and honest graft, I saw more from JK during that half than I?d seen in a bloody long time.

Five minutes or so later, it came as no surprise to see a very below-par Hulse taken off and replaced by Delroy Facey. Personally, I would have gone with Delroy right from the start, and not the ex-Crewe man, but there you are. Those changes happened to coincide with what seemed to be a pretty ropey spell for us; they badly needed those three points to keep in contention, and they were getting visibly stronger, pushing us back upon ourselves, and alarm bells began to clang loudly in many a Baggie lughole. This attacking spell of theirs culminated in ?their? AJ getting a free header in our box and nearly capitalising on it ? luckily, the effort ended up on Houlty?s hands and not in the back of the net.

Time for Megson to delve yet again into his capacious back of tricks; after a bit of rummaging, he emerged from its interior with Lloyd Dyer present, correct, and itching to tear up that left flank for us. The big problem was, though, who to take off? The answer, as ever, came in the form of poor Kinsella ? and good ex-Seal that he was, off he dutifully trotted. Will the poor sod ever be allowed to complete a full 90 minutes for us? Don?t bet on it. But, I digress. On came Lloyd once more, and within seconds, he?d repeated his trick of running down the left like a rocket and positively inviting the opposition to stop him by any means, be they fair or foul. That free-kick came to nothing, sadly, but at least we now looked a tad more menacing than we had previously.

The breakthrough, though, came in the 81st minute, and had very little to do with our flying substitute. The architect of Palace?s destruction was none other than Big Dave, who rose majestically from a Jason Koumas corner to deliver the goods in fine style, courtesy of a timely header. As the ref pointed to the centre circle, you could hear the massed sighs of relief from three sides of the ground, almost; prior to that opener, I was getting the distinct impression we?d well and truly shot our bolt. Those Palace supporters? Sensing they were gradually getting the upper hand, they had been singing, ?Premier League, you?re having a laugh!? but from their neck of the woods there was naught there now but deafening silence.

Sure, those jitters were still there in abundance, but with around five minutes left on the clock, Palace provided proof positive they hadn?t done their homework at all well concerning the nuisance-value of Lloyd Dyer. I think it was Facey that supplied the ammo from the left for the lad to make use of but Lloyd?s shot, sure and straight, headed right into the back of the net ? and the whole bloody ground instantly erupted. There are goals ? and then there are ?popular? goals. No prizes for guessing what category this one fell into; the crowd?s response to Lloyd?s points-sealing strike must have reached ?nine? on the Richter popularity equivalent, I reckon. There?s not that many players can boast a chant of their very own the minute they make a youthful first-team debut, but our ?Lloyd Dy-er? variant on the ?Kumbaya? theme is getting quite an airing these days. Come to think of it, quite a few players can spend their entire careers at one club, and never get honoured in that way. Lloyd is something special, and we know it.

You would have thought that Palace might have run away with their tails between their legs, but no such luck. Despite that killer blow, they were still up for it, seemingly. In fact, right on time, they could have pulled one back; Houlty had to move pretty smartly to counter the danger from a nasty Palace header from little or no range at all. Correct me if I?m wrong, but I believe the damned thing even managed to hit the crossbar, then bounce out ? right into the welcoming arms of our custodian! It was only then Palace finally accepted they?d met their match.

Four minutes of injury time to sweat through, then ? and a giggle at the expense of my Halfords ?next-seat neighbour?, Paul, who made to exit the ground toting a large plastic bag bearing the logo of a very well-known pharmaceutical chain upon it. I just couldn?t resist it: ?Is that your matchday supply of Valium in there, Paul?? I ventured. Just as well I couldn?t hear the reply, methinks!

The final whistle, then, and listening to the scores from other games, a bit of a mixed bag, really. Worries? That knock to the strongly-competitive AJ; he didn?t look quite the same afterwards. Any plaudits to hand out? Oodles for AJ, as mentioned, and also for Sakiri ? and even Big Dave did his bit for the defensive cause ? when he wasn?t banging the ball in the back of the net, that was. Tommy Gaardoe was his usual immaculate self, of course. Lee Hughes? Dare I say it, but we really are seeing a more mature Hughsie, now. He?s finally ditched all that whinging and moaning when decisions go against him, and he truly proved a whiz when asked to help out in defence today. When his off-field troubles first blew up, I did remark that the whole thing might be the making of him, both as a person and as a player. It now looks as though I might well be proven right on that one.

As for the rest of it, Norwich won, as did The Mackems, but Wigan dropped points, as did Millwall. Sheffield United (and all who foul in them) we all know about, but as I said earlier, realistically, the only threat to our current and future league status is The Mackems. And ourselves! The Wearsiders won?t be in Nationwide action next week, for obvious reasons, but we will, and on Sunday as well. Norwich are away also, I believe, but playing on Saturday. Any chance of them slipping up, I wonder? It?s got to be pretty uncomfortable for them right now, what with us coming at them through the long grass, and everything. Things could get mighty interesting for us in a few days time ? but will my bloody nerves stand it? As Shakespeare might have said in a different age, ?there lies the rub?.

One other thought: although our leader threw a bit of a wobbly during the post-match interview ? I?m given to understand the booing when Artim was subbed was the cause of his ire ? perhaps it might behove him well to remember that much is done and said in the heat of the moment, and the crowd may not have perceived very well the logic behind that decision of his to change the engine-room around a bit. It?s a little unkind, perhaps, to come out with a knee-jerk ?they don?t know anything about football?-type of response to what happened. I sincerely hope that once he?s slept on the whole thing, he might care to temper those acerbic comments with gentler phrases. Or try to explain his reasoning, even; the vast majority of Albion supporters are most receptive to constructive and intelligent argument, which is more than can be said for a good many other home crowds. Anything?s got to be better than just trading facile snarls!

And finally?.. Heard via a listener?s text message on a local phone-in radio show last night: ?When you (the host) marry Gary Megson, will I get an invitation???..?

 - Glynis Wright

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