The Diary

26 April 2004: Promotion: Some More Vagrant Thoughts

Welcome to another burst of post-promotion euphoria courtesy these daily musings ? and, before I start, a question. How?s your head today? Hammering like Noah Hingley?s Netherton premises the time they forged the anchor chains for The Titanic, or simply throbbing like a good ?un? Realising the total power of the hangover over the efficient functional capacity of the human mind, and just because I?m in such a good mood today, I promise faithfully not to tax your brains too much with this one, OK? So, let me kick off by lobbing yet another simple question in your booze-befuddled direction. What begins at around seven in the evening, and only finishes around sunrise the following day? No idea? Easy. The post-match celebrations at a certain Halesowen pub ? perhaps discretion?s the better part of valour regarding its precise location! - which must rank as one of the world?s all-time great lock-ins. Do the Guinness Book Of Records have a section dealing with that sort of thing, I wonder?

According to my very bibulous source (my mother-in-law?s ?significant other? was most informative!), the aforementioned clutch of blue-and-white-clad gentlemen first took up residence in the vicinity of the bar counter around the time stated, and once they?d staked their claim on the ?territory?, nothing save an outbreak of Dingles, or, failing that, global nuclear war, was going to budge ?em from their self-avowed task of banging up their blood-alcohol levels to about the same value as that contained in rocket fuel. The only reason the whole shebang finally got knocked on the head was because Mine Host suddenly found himself practically falling asleep while pulling those celebratory pints for the umpteenth time.

Mind you, judging from the manic scenes outside pubs bordering the West Bromwich bit of the Brummie Road after yesterday?s game, I daresay a load more Black Country licensees had their beauty sleep irrevocably ruined after all those shenanigans. As far as I could see, all those spilling out onto the pavement were somewhat merry, but behaving themselves, pretty much. Not much difference between that and the aftermath of a university graduation thrash, really. What did disappoint me, though, was seeing a van-load of plods pull up outside one such establishment, and the disgorged occupants then proceed to get fully ?booted and spurred? with riot gear. I didn?t witness the outcome, and I couldn?t see what was actually going on inside the place, obviously, but was all that bellicose behaviour and macho posturing from our local constabulary really necessary?

Great fun, though, today, reading all the differing accounts of our triumph via the media. I was particularly charmed by The Observer?s take on events; they seemed to be the only ones to pick up on our awesome succession of ?Black Country Waves? midway through the second 45, also their mention of ?a truly stand-shaking ?Boing Boing?.? As someone said on the list today, it?s quite pleasurable to note that some journos now consider it a ?given? their audience knows precisely what constitutes Zebedee-type antics from our celebratory followers! Quite astonishing, that ?wave?, all of it, and something I?ve never, ever witnessed at The Shrine before, although I do recall Sunderland aficionados doing similar around five years ago, the time we were walloped three-nil at their place. (Personally, I blame onion-pickling plod Brownie, from Oz, for that one; over in Blighty for a short period, he travelled to the game with us Dick Eds, only to see us get one hell of a tanking for his pains!) Come to think of it, I really would like to meet the unsung Baggie hero who first came up with the idea, and shake them by the hand. Anyone know who did start it, by the way? Genius, pure and simple, and quite, quite unforgettable.

So, what do you do when you get a promotion? Simple, you record it for posterity. Already, us Dick Eds are buying up every single paper, Sunday, weekday, local, national, whatever, and removing all relevant sections with a view towards compiling one massive file containing all things ?Baggie promotion?. The Mercury I?ll leave to the ?out-laws? as I simply won?t have it in the house. It?s not a new thing; we performed precisely the same task in 2002 (the look on the face of the till assistant in Birmingham W.H. Smiths as ten or so titles thudded onto her desk was absolutely priceless!) and even now, the early fruits of our labours sit smugly on our sofa, suitably snipped, and awaiting their moment of destiny. Tomorrow, I?ll be pestering our newsagent something rotten for just about every publication on their shelves; they?ll think they?ve died and gone to heaven, no doubt, but it?s the dirty deed that has to be done.

The disappointing news the Dingles managed to scrape a 2-2 draw in their game versus Blues this lunchtime cast something of a shadow over the warm afterglow of yesterday?s success, but never mind. No, they might have postponed the visitation of the Grim Reaper to Molineux for the moment, but come he will, and won?t I drool at the delicious irony of seeing them head in the opposite direction to ours as we soar heavenwards! We really will have to give them a wave as we pass each other, won?t we, children? I?m no great lover of things ?Dingle?, even at the best of times, and that?s why the mere thought of having to meet ?them? again totally appals me. The ?successful Midland team? aspect of both inhabiting that elevated sphere at the same time I?ll leave to those ignorant of the subtle nuances of the situation. For me, the great beauty of the past 24 months has been the declaration of both League habitats to be a Dingle-free zone for the entire duration of our stay. And, from what I?ve heard on the grapevine, their inevitable plunge back towards the Nationwide won?t exactly be greeted by the sounds of wailing and gnashing of teeth in places like Manchester or Liverpool, either. Mancs may seem about as arrogant and out of touch as the pre-revolutionary French royal family to most football supporters, but even they aren?t deserving of an annual visitation from our dysfunctional neighbours! Er ? are they?

I had intended to make some comment about those unintentionally ?live? remarks made by former Albion gaffer Ron Atkinson on Friday, but in the backwash of our country stay, plus the stresses of yesterday?s triumph, the whole thing completely passed me by, just about. Now we?re safely up, though, I would like to chuck some of my own thoughts into the ring, and, from what I?ve been reading about the entire incident, I reckon The Observer?s Michael Eboda just about hit the nail on the head today. During an interview with the writer, Atkinson turned the whole thing on its head by asking the (coloured) Observer hack outright if he thought he was racist, and this was the interesting response, slightly abridged: ??You come from an era when certain things were acceptable, and I think you are not quite aware of what those things are. That?s when you can become racist.?

That reply really strikes a chord with me, because I am of a similar generation myself. Schooled in the fifties and mid-to-late sixties, I can actually remember the headmaster of my junior school telling one of the first Asian pupils there, ?We don?t want your sort in this country?? Sad to say, no-one really thought it ?out of order? at the time. Shocking? Sure, but such deplorable attitudes were pretty prevalent, then, and that bloke?s view was shared by a lot of people you?d normally think much better of. Not only that, you only have to examine the literature of the period, and that of Atkinson?s generation, to realise that things written about minorities then would most certainly arouse the ire of the race relations people if printed today; the terms ?nigger? and ?black? were in quite frequent use at the time. Also quite disturbing were the downright patronising and condescending attitudes shown to minorities in prestigious publications such as The Lancet, or the British Medical Journal. Not acceptable, sure, but like outmoded medical concepts such as eugenics, calling those with learning difficulties 'Idiots' 'Imbeciles' or Downs Syndrome children 'Mongols', that sort of thing simply went with the territory in those days.

Another thought, which illustrates perfectly what I?m driving at: those who?ve supported The Baggies for as many years as this column, cast your minds back to the late sixties/early seventies, and the visit of The Dingles to The Shrine around that period. Well do I remember their entire away contingent bursting into a chant of, ?Zigger Zagger Zigger, Astle is a nigger!?, and not once, but several times during the course of the game. Not one, not tens, or hundreds, but the entire lot, and the police in that ground doing sod-all to stop it in mid-flow, or broadcast warnings via the PA, even. That was 35 years ago, and the infamous Tory election slogan, ?If you want a nigger for your neighbour, vote Labour? just five more years senior, of course. Shocking? Yep, but it happened. Much water has flowed under the bridge since then, of course, but those examples just go to show what the prevailing mindset of officialdom (and most people) was in those days, why it is those of Atkinson?s generation (and mine) can and do unwittingly make remarks that can be construed as racist ? I?ve done it myself, so I?m no saint - and just how far we?ve come in that comparatively brief space of time.

Coo, time to relieve my continuing dyspepsia, now, by ?belching for England?. Back tomorrow evening, post-reserve game, which will be as good a time as any to catch up with any celebratory scandal I?ve missed! Regular stiffs-watchers, you have been warned!

And finally?.. And just when you?d thought your sides couldn?t hack any more post-promotion jocularity, here?s a little bit more to set you off again! Taken from the on-line version of the Daily Telegraph, courtesy of a chap whose ?nom de net? is ?Cuzer?.???Indeed, if Wolves lose at home against Everton on Saturday, regardless of other results, they will be relegated after one season in the top flight. Birmingham fans taunted their visitors with the inimitable "boing, boing" chant associated with West Bromwich Albion, Wolves' arch foes, ringing around St. Andrews.?

 - Glynis Wright

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