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The Diary04 April 2004: The Shay, The Horse, And Me!Here we go, gathering nuts and may once more, but in sunny (I hope!) Ipswich this time. Listening to the football results on the car radio tonight when returning from Halifax, I was pleased to hear I?d called it pretty close with Burnley and Norwich ? but not close enough, it would seem. The lucky sods still managed to get five goals in reply to the three Stan Ternent and his wrecking crew managed to pull out of the hat. Sure, that win?s opened up the three-point gap between us both again, but we have a chance to rectify that one tomorrow when we travel to their neighbours? Portman Road farmyard. The thing is, I?ve discovered that the wurzel-manglers have one of the most porous defences in the entire division, so that 21 year old hoodoo I mentioned the other day might be in some danger of being sorted for once and for all. Touch wood. Cross fingers. A couple of other results did catch my attention; the first was the final score from Molineux, of course ? a whopping and a half, and from Southampton, of all people. Even we managed to turn ?em over at our place last season, and, come to think about it, we were dashed unlucky to fall to a single goal at St. Mary?s. Four-one, oh dear. The second? The most welcome news that Sheffield United had dipped out once more. Given their somewhat indifferent form of late, it might well be they?ll miss out on the play-offs completely, never mind automatic promotion. What was that you said recently about overtaking us by the end of this season, Mr. Warnock? Despite all that angst and torment taking place elsewhere, we still managed to put all that to one side temporarily, as we watched Hereford United in action against Halifax Town, a Conference side who haven?t been having a nice time of it recently; their recent League record reads very similar to that of (almost) doomed Wimbledon. Prior to today, I believe they?d only managed to grab one point from their last twelve games. The only thing keeping them from the drop right now is the fact that one of the top sides in The Northern Premier League has a ground that doesn?t come up to Conference standards, therefore there will be only two down from that league this time round. Guess who?s bumping along in the spot just two places above the real relegation fodder? Sorry, no prizes; you?d have to be a Dingle not to work that one out. As I mentioned briefly yesterday, I do have mixed memories of The Shay. There?s that awful 1993 FA Cup tie, of course, and there?s also the time I saw Hereford play there about six or seven seasons ago. In stark contrast to today?s visit, Halifax were really on fire and itching like mad to get back into the Football League, and at the first time of asking. Thinking on, I believe they were top of the heap that day. Hereford? ?Detritus? is the polite way of stating their abilities, or lack of them. No surprise, then, that the home side managed to slay The Bulls by three clear goals, with absolutely sod all by way of reply from the visitors. And, yes, there was an Albion connection, believe it or not ? the bloke who got his hat-trick for the Shaymen that day? None other than a certain Geoff Horsfield, bless his mane and little hoofie-woofies! Was it my imagination, or was he smaller then? Returning to the present once more, we set out for Yorkshire around eleven this morning, but before braving the M6, we first chose to make a short pit-stop at The Shrine. The reason? To grab four seats for The Dick Away Team on those freebie coaches going to Sunderland, of course. As today was the last day ticket sales would be restricted to away season-ticket holders, and the whole shebang being thrown open to just about every Baggie in sight on Monday, we simply had to get our needs sorted out before then, so that?s why we did. Lots of very expensive-looking cars parked in Halfords Lane, and around the Smethwick entrance ? clearly, our finest were availing themselves of a quick training session prior to saddling up for the long journey to East Anglia; certainly, when we next passed that junction, the team coach was standing patiently outside the players? entrance, and raring to go, it seemed. One very soggy ? not to mention congested! - journey later, we finally hove into the good town of Halifax. And immediately hit problems; parking had proved rather difficult the last time we?d visited (Albion played them in the League Cup just a few seasons back), but now, the lack of suitable spots to plonk our substitute Dickmobile (it?s currently in dry-dock!) was proving almost impossible to sort out to our satisfaction. All the bolt-holes known to us previously were now blessed by the addition of double-yellow lines, and those that weren?t were permit-parking only. After a spell of driving around absolutely seething with frustration, and cursing the place in pure Black Country tones, we finally settled for a spot some way down a steep hill and about half a mile from the ground proper ? which was at the summit, of course. A sod for me to negotiate, what with my back and everything, but that?s football for you. When we finally drew near this Northern temple to the beautiful game, I just couldn?t believe it; those passing years had wrought a sea-change in the place, almost. Gone was the huge grassy bank laughingly called ?terrace? by the locals, and ditto their away-end-cum-car-park. Aw, you remember, the bit that was asphalted in, and where we stood the November afternoon they absolutely creamed us in front of (almost!) the entire nation? Yep, all gone, now, and in its place, a decent terraced stand, the away end (complete with supporting cast of genuine Herefordians including what seemed to be renegades from a Mexican bandido outfit, sombreros, ponchos, and all!), plus convincing evidence of a makeover for what was laughingly called their ?main stand? way back then. Oh ? and all the speedway stuff has disappeared also. And, along the entire length of the pitch, on the far side, a spanking-new erection ? and bloody neat that was, too. There?s still the roof to go on properly, and most of the seats to go in, but already, the entire thing is shaping up to be quite an impressive structure for the size of stadium it?s been built to serve. I strongly suspect it?s all been instigated at the behest of the local rugby league club, who ground share with The Shaymen, but of one thing I?m quite certain; you can say a good many things about the place, but a dump it most certainly ain?t any more! And, when we made our purchases, even the catering was good. Pretty par for the course at Conference level; what I asked for was a hot-dog, and what I got was a genuine sausage (not a frankfurter) in a pretty capacious bridge roll, and garnished with ?real? onions, as well. None of that awful dried stuff there, I was glad to see ? bloody bostin?, and it all went down as sweet as a nut. The game? Hereford needed to get something from it to keep pace with leaders Chester, but a massive downpour before (and during!) the game had turned the entire playing surface into a convincing imitation of an Asian paddy-field. Suited Halifax perfectly, of course, but such conditions were complete anathema to the visiting purists; within minutes of the start, Halifax hit the visitors pretty hard by ensuring that whenever they did get the ball, they weren?t going to keep it very long, and that led to some pretty-uncompromising tackles out there. Hereford, who much prefer the passing game, didn?t like it one little bit, and they were rattled. And, just before the 20-minute mark, they conceded. A penalty it was, and a bloody stupid one at that; The Shaymen, whose home record spoke volumes about their inability to hit a barn-door at ten paces, couldn?t believe their luck. Stick it away they did, and things then began to get very sweaty indeed for the Bulls; given a kinder run of the ball for them, the home side could well have gone on to notch up yet more. Come the second half, though, they made one fundamental mistake. Having gone in front relatively early, they then elected to defend that lead come hell or high water. They were even playing the ball into the corner-flag areas and time-wasting before half-time! Fine if you?ve got players with sufficient skill to carry it off, but Halifax didn?t; you only had to look at their league record to realise that. There were many similarities between them and us last season; because they packed the midfield and defence without going to the attack themselves (sound familiar?), they were forced to defend deeper and deeper. Remember Bolton, away? Quite. By way of contrast, The Bulls finally began to put some slick passing and movement together, gradually pushed up, and come the 75th minute, their patience finally paid off with a nicely-worked equaliser. And, just two minutes later, they repeated the trick courtesy of a series of moves that went through the home defence like a hot knife through butter, thereby reducing the home end to stunned silence, and The Bulls? sombrero-toting followers to sheer and utter joy. And, 2-1 is how it finished; after all that graft, a shame, then, to discover that Chester had won also. Given the Conference season finishes two weeks before ours, it doesn?t look as though second-placed United will be able to catch the leaders, now, but even if they don?t, I sure as hell fancy them to go all the way in the play-offs. Back to the matter in hand once more, and our visit to East Anglia tomorrow. As per usual, I?ve excavated a few pertinent facts concerning our destination?s history, and so forth ? so enjoy! The area surrounding Ipswich attracted folkies from the Stone Age onwards Although there was a Roman villa near the northern boundary of what became Ipswich and a Roman road ran through the site, the origins of Ipswich are considered to lie in the seventh century. An earlier Anglo-Saxon settlement in the vicinity lay on the west bank of the River Gipping, but seems to have been no more than a few farms. In medieval times, the place was called Gippeswyc. That refers to the wic on the Gipping (or possibly back to the personal name of a leader of a Saxon group of settlers); another derivation of the name connects it with the Saxon "gip", meaning corner of the mouth, and indirectly meaning the point where the mouth of the fresh-water Gipping turned to enter the salt-water Orwell estuary. Believe it or not ? and, living where he does, The Noise just might get interested in this - on the eastern side of the settlement were kilns used for firing pottery made on a slow wheel; this distinctive type of pottery was called "Ipswich ware" The town was among the last targets of Danish raids on East Anglia, in 1069. I wonder whether Tommy Gaardsoe?s ancestors can hold their hands up to that one? How long it took for Ipswich to recover from the damage done by Vikings and (later) Normans is unknown, but its advantageous North Sea location and to regional trade, in a part of the country where there were at that time relatively few market centres, most likely helped it bounce back quickly. Although not a huge town in terms of size, population and wealth, it was the chief town of Suffolk and the seat of the shire court; a county gaol was built there in 1220. It also had a role (if not so important as that of Yarmouth) in providing ships and sailors for royal service and for defence of the east coast, on one occasion describing itself, as Yarmouth did, as a "frontier town". At the time the Domesday book was compiled, the borough was being farmed by the sheriff of Suffolk, Roger Bigod ? erm ? bigod! In the 1270?s, Ipswich and nearby Harwich had a bit of a spat. Harwich was receiving assistance from the earl of Norfolk (its lord), who blocked the river with a weir, in order to divert to Harwich ships bound for Ipswich. Ooh, what a naughty little boy! In 1340 an inquisition concluded that the port of Orwell and the estuary leading to Ipswich were within the (admiralty) jurisdiction of Ipswich, and that the Ipswich authorities ? not those of Harwich ? could collect tolls at Orwell port. In 1378-79, Ipswich and Harwich were again at loggerheads, over a location in Orwell Haven called Polles Head, which an inquisition decided should be considered part of the port of Ipswich. Makes our Albion-Wulves stuff sound a bit tame, really. The king was the sole lord of Ipswich and self-government was granted on his charter dated May 25, 1200. A castle was built shortly after the Norman Conquest, perhaps in the early years of William I's reign as part of his programme to subdue the country. Construction of rampart and ditch defences was begun around 1204 although this may only have been an overhaul and/or expansion of an earlier fortification. There were also plans for a wall around the city, but it?s not clear how far they were carried out. In the late Middle Ages, because of the place?s proximity to the sea and to ships, an amazing amount of trade began to spring up in the area. You name it ? they sold it, either on the town quay, or in the market, but one of the main things for export at the time was wool. True, both the Black Death and the Hundred Year War knocked such enterprise back quite stiffly, but overall, the main item on the agenda was economic growth, pure and simple. Later on still, the collapse of the East Anglian wool trade, the heavy cost of wars (even then!) and the consequences of finding itself on the losing side in the Civil War brought a decline in the town's fortunes. Then, in the 18th century, shipbuilding, malting and milling industries developed, and with the Napoleonic Wars, the local economy received a further boost through its ideal location for distribution of food to the Continent. Once Old Boney finally met his Waterloo, over the 19th century, Ipswich became increasingly important for engineering and agricultural manufacturing, and was also an early centre for fertiliser production, with clothing and tobacco chucked in for good measure. At this time, industrial growth, construction of a wet dock, and the building of new rail links with the rest of Britain guaranteed the town's continued expansion which lasted until more recent times when it developed as a major insurance and commercial centre. Famous Ipswich people? Bernie Ecclestone, for one. Born in the town in 1930, he then went on to become quite big in motor racing, well, Formula One, if you want to get all hissy with me about it. He?s also the guy that donated quite a wad to the Labour Party around the time it came to power ? and as a result, that blanket ban on tobacco advertising at sporting events suddenly didn?t apply to F1 racing in this country, although, to be fair, it does now.. The artist Gainsborough lived here for a time and John Constable also loved sketching by the busy quayside. Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal to Henry VIII, was born in the town itself and a gateway was built to his planned college in 1528, which can still be seen in College Street. When Charles Dickens stayed in the town, way back in Victorian times, local events and people inspired him in his writing - this is particularly notable in Pickwick Papers. In more recent times, Giles, the popular cartoonist, worked in Ipswich and drew comic inspiration from local residents. Younger Baggies probably won?t have seen his work, but suffice it to say, the fun is largely in the detailed cartoon portraits he drew of typical British family life. I?ve never gone a bundle on The Daily Express, or its Sunday counterpart, but Giles?s cartoons had me in stitches every time. Theresa Zabel Lucasin, famous yachtswoman, was also born there. So, that?s the cultural stuff done with ? what about tomorrow, then? I?ve been busy trolling around some local newspaper websites this weekend, and it seems their manager Joe Royle is totally adamant that they can grab themselves what would be a significant victory, since it would also deal a major blow to our hopes of clinching an automatic promotion place as well. Their midfield pair, Tommy Miller and Jermaine Wright, are expected to have recovered from ankle knocks, while strikers Darren Bent and Shefki Kuqi emerged unscathed from international duty in midweek. Royle doesn?t see the game as a revenge clash, although he reckons he?s still feeling the hurt from the 4-1 away defeat inflicted by Albion in September. As he said in one publication, ?They sent us to the bottom of the table that day and while I never thought it was really a 4-1 game, that's what the scoreline said. A win on Sunday would be great for everyone, but it would be especially nice for the fans after taking a bit of a pummelling up there. You'll see a game of contrasting styles.? On our last 12 visits to the place, of course, we?ve totally and utterly stuffed up. Our favourite football club secured a 4-3 win back in September 1983, but since then, Ipswich have won ten and drawn two. Time, then, for the percentages to start rolling in our favour, finally? As far as we?re concerned, The Dear Leader has the return to full fitness of striker Geoff Horsfield to look forward to. The guy was in bloody good form until that calf injury forced him off at half-time versus Wigan Athletic. At least with him back, we?ll have some real muscle up front, and what with Lee providing the other half of the fire-power, I suspect Ipswich won?t like it one little bit. I am assuming we?ll go with Facey on the bench again, just in case a drastic change of plan is called for. Andy Johnson, who was a bit of a doubt because of a groin problem aggravated at home to Crystal Palace last Saturday, also seems okay, which comes as a bit of a relief. The game will also see the return of our tame Viking warrior to his former stamping-ground; come tomorrow, I?m sure Mr. Gaardsoe will really want to impress his erstwhile chums.. He certainly impresses me! Another thought ? will our leader stick with young Chambo, or will Bernt Hass return to his previous state of grace? Will we go with Sakiri in the engine room again, or will Scouse Jase take over the mantle of creator once more? Find out in next week?s thrilling episode of ?.. Better stop, now. I?m beginning to sound like one of those voice-overs you used to hear at the end of the Saturday kids? film matinee! Result? I?m going for a three-pointer for us; it?s high time Ipswich got theirs, and they do happen to have the most permeable defence in the division, as per their ?goals against? tally; my understanding is that only Wimbledon?s is worse. Amazing, isn?t it, how they?ve still managed to creep into the fringes of things, despite that handicap. In any case, we?ve still got to keep going for those wins. Get those sorted and Sunderland can do what the hell they jolly well like ? they still won?t catch us. And finally?.. And a serious one, for once. Poor Lee Marshall. Today, he broke his leg whilst in action for Hull City. Apparently, he was involved in a strong but fair challenge with Kidderminster Harriers? Scott Stamps. Lee collapsed to the ground in only the 9th minute, and lay motionless until he was stretchered off. From what I can gather, he suffered compound fractures to his tibia and fibula, the bones in the lower part of the leg, just beneath the knee-cap. The website I consulted described what happened as a ?strong but fair tackle?. If that?s the case, given the severe anture of the injuries he sustained, what the hell was he hit with? A bloody Sherman tank? Compound fractures are those in which there?s more than one break present. Either that, or it comes with really sick-making bits chucked in for good measure e.g. shards of broken bone lying open to the air and protruding though the skin, or a severed major blood vessel. Whichever way you look at it, it?s pretty nasty, and I?m now wondering whether his career might be placed in jeopardy as a result of what?s happened. Ironic, really; when we saw him in action for Hull versus Cheltenham the other month, when he came off the bench, their travelling band didn?t half take him to their hearts. As I commented to ?Im Indoors at the time, he got more encouragement from their lot in 15 minutes than he ever did in a season at Albion. After all the heartache he went through at our place, a chance to kick off with a totally new club and gaffer ? and now this happens. I?m sure everyone reading this will be rooting for him, and wishing him a speedy and successful recovery. - Glynis Wright Contact the AuthorDiary Index |
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