The Diary

27 April 2004: Monday, Monday, So Good To Me!

Hi there, once more, large as life and twice as bad, but before I apply digit to keyboard in earnest, I?ll quickly clue you in on why we didn?t go to the reserves game at Aggborough tonight, and that?s because it was too bloody far to travel for a game where most of the participants would have minimal interest in the proceedings. As we saw it, Man City would have been resting all their key people for their own relegation battle anyway, while the vast majority of our own would have minimal interest in the outcome. An awful lot of our fringe players will be on their bikes come the end of hostilities, so an indifferent performance at this stage would mean San Ferry Ann to them. Mind you, if someone reading this then tells me most indignantly I missed a classic encounter down there, then I?ll just have to eat humble pie in great big dollops. According the last communiqu? I received, our lot were drawing 2-2, goals from Skooby Doo and Wally Wallwork.

Having now sorted that to my satisfaction, and just to kick off things properly, I?ll clue you all in on what happened this morning when I went into town to do some errands. Normally, a visit to the bank, one to the chemists, plus another to the butchers only takes me around 20 minutes to sort out door-to-door, but this time, the entire trip took well over an hour. Why? Because everyone and their cat wanted to stop me and talk about the Baggies, that?s why! I kicked off at our chemists, just opposite the Bear pub junction, owned by an Asian guy who?s a Baggies shareholder ? and no sooner had I entered the place, out he came from his little potion-mixing den behind the counter, little moustache bristling like crazy, and wanting to know all about last Saturday?s triumph. Blimey, such prompt service, and all I wanted to do was get my prescription for painkillers renewed!

Also there was a sales rep, busily trying to flog our tame pharmacist some brand new OTC medicine or another ? and guess what, he was a Scouser, watched the Reds on a regular basis, and therefore wanted to contribute his own pennyworth to the debate as well. Apparently, unable to go to Saturday?s game because of work commitments, our chemist passed the ground on his way home at what he thought was a ?safe? time, around six in the evening, and found the Brummie Road absolutely crawling with trillions of jubilant folkies displaying blue and white replica kit on their bodies. Oops! What he hadn?t realised was because of the lap of honour and everything, everyone was that much later leaving the scene of our triumph. I haven?t examined those painkillers too closely, as yet, but it was a bit disconcerting the way our friendly apothecary was chattering ten to the dozen about The Baggies while seeing to my wants, so I can only hope that the stock bottle he used to sort me out wasn?t one filled with some potentially-lethal medicament or another.

Eventually, I managed to tear myself away from his medicinal clutches, and headed for my next port of call, the bank. Should have been straightforward as well, as all I wanted to do was pay my credit card bill, and sort out some paperwork with them while I was at it, but nope. It transpired that the woman employee who came to talk to me about the other matter was a bloody Villa supporter! Aargh! Now come on; it?s bad enough having to talk monetary turkey with these parsimonious people at the best of times, but when they send a bloody seal out there to do the job, it?s a bit rich, don?t you think? I wouldn?t have minded, but she then completely queered her pitch by insisting on telling me she wanted to see ?them? remain in the top-flight ?for the good of Midlands football?! Dearie, dearie me; that one was an insult too far, so I then explained to her precisely why I thought it wasn?t a terrifically good idea for the Dingles to be there come the start of ?04-?05. This did involve, unfortunately for the woman concerned, lengthy mention of the John Ireland Stand, condoms, the sneaky disposal of what?s euphemistically described in some quarters as ?human waste matter?, plus their worrying predilection for cunning ambush tactics that wouldn?t have disgraced the Vietcong a third of a century ago. I?m not sure how all that was received, mind you, but she sure as hell got a fast-track inculcation into the knavish ways of Neanderthal football supporters, especially those of the gold and cack persuasion!

Having finally sorted out all things fiscal in the Wright household, the next stop was to the butchers, to grab a large chicken. Not for me, for my cats ? it?s a long story! Not the one with Bluenose tendencies, unfortunately ? the butcher, that is, not the moggies! - he closes on Mondays, sadly, but I hoiked myself instead to the one a few doors along from the bank. Another dose of claret and blue in mega-quantities, sadly, but what the hell, I was becoming quite well-versed in the old ?look out, we?re coming to get ya next season!? routine by then. The best bit, though, I saved for very last, and that was collecting all those newspapers from my friendly neighbourhood paper shop. Mum wasn?t serving, unfortunately, but her daughter ? around 15 or 16, I would guess ? was there instead. By the time I?d rounded up all the titles I wanted, then plonked the entire lot on the counter, her little adolescent eyes were bulging out ?like organ-stops?, as my mother used to say. ?You really want all those papers?? she asked.

?Yup,? I replied, whilst handing over a sum of money that closely resembled the current size of the National Debt. ?And what?s more, when I get home, I?m going to cut the entire lot up ? how?s that??

Judging from the horrified look in the child's eyes as I turned to leave, I knew it was going to be a close-run thing as to whether or not she?d phone the authorities to have me removed to the nearest psychiatric clinic the moment I left the premises!

At least I?ve now solved the riddle of the Swedish Baggie who stopped by to say hello just before Saturday?s game. His name is David Lones, he?s Smethwick born and bred, and a Baggies supporter since time immemorial. His dad used to take him to The Shrine every other Saturday afternoon when the Baggies started playing again just after the war, apparently. A great admirer of Jack Vernon, Ray Barlow and Ronnie Allen (junior Baggies, ask your dad!), one of his most precious memories was when Jackie read the lesson in church at his school's end-of-term service.

Hang on to your hollyhocks, now, folks, this is when it all starts to get interesting. In 1957, at the tender age of 21, he fell in love with a Swedish girl, packed his bags, left the UK and has lived in Sweden ever since. For 45 years he thought he was the only Albion fan in the country. Then, purely by chance, he bumped into one of the Swedish Baggies a couple of years ago, and that?s when he learned there was in fact already a Swedish WBA supporters organisation he?d never previously heard about! Besides the native Swedes, like Olly, other Black Country expats have since strengthened the ranks. A name-check, then, for Richard (ex-Bearwood), and Pete (ex-Tamworth), and amazingly, a couple of lassies from Ume? (sorry, my geographical knowledge is about as rusty as George Dubya?s on Scandinavia, but my other half informs me they hail from the very north of the country) and joined for a bite to eat on their way to a West Brom home game some time ago. So, The Cult Of The Boing has spread far and wide, and even reached the frozen wastes of the far north of Sweden! Another saying of my mums is called for, I feel: ?stick a plaster on that, then?!

For the last two years they've invested in a couple of season tickets in the East Stand, and try to split the matches between them as fairly as possible. And, kiddiwinkles, this is what a bit of Scandinavian Baggie-watching involves. A low-price return ticket Stockholm-Brum, plus a couple of nights in a hotel or B/B, plus expenses, and beer money, doesn't leave much change from 250 quid. You can double that because they invariably take their wives, girlfriends, brothers, cousins, dads etc. with them, as well. This means the cost then escalates to something in the region of ?500 every time one of them wants to see our lot play at The Shrine. What happens when they decide to come over for away fixtures, I shudder to think. That's what I call genuine commitment to a football team.

And, there?s still more. A good time was had by all on Saturday night, apparently, consequently, hangovers still loom, and alarmingly so. David tells me it?s important that the mists clear with rapidity, because he has to be in shape for Wednesday night?s Singalong Sound of Music show in Stockholm. Yup, that's David?s sideline, he produces and comperes the ?barmiest show in town? ? he said it, not me! - the Swedish version of SaSoM! Sometimes, it?s better not to ask. A ?going-up? party is being planned for a suitable date in May, so Stockholm will soon be reverberating to the sound of Baggies boinging in quantity, and yet another headache will be in the offing before very long! I bet they don?t win the Nobel Peace Prize for that one!

There?s also been another mystery cleared up today, and that?s the follow-up on the lady known on our mailing-list as ?Albion Lou?. Just to clue you in, she was the poor sod that got hit on the face by a stray ball during the Sunderland home game earlier in the season, and needed hospital treatment as a result. This one really is a positive bit of PR for the club; with the help of one of our regular ?posters?, Anc, she was lucky enough to watch the game from the Directors Box on Saturday as a guest of Jeremy Peace, who, along with his PA, were ?brilliant?. Lou reckons our chairman was really down to earth and talking about the Albion just as a fan in the pub would; they were made very welcome, treated like royalty, and even got some free champagne at the end! ?Lou? was really fulsome in her praise, describing the whole thing as a ?really special day out, and one I won't forget for a while?. Reckon our favourite footie club really deserve a pat on the back for that one; well done, Albion.

Back tomorrow night, when I expect to be covering the topic of where our favourite football club goes from here, also the results of a little bit of research into Norse mythology, and which Viking deity Reading travellers might care to imitate when they get there!

And finally?.. One. When my beloved arrived home from work tonight, he came bearing gifts. Not of gold, frankincense, and all that religious rubbish, but copies of the Birmingham Post?s ?Promotion Special? instead. And, as I gallantly ploughed through their quite splendid photo-feature on every single game we?d played thus far, I then came to their account of Saturday?s bash, and their comment about Jason Koumas hitting the woodwork with a ?chip shop? over the head of the Bradford keeper! The unfortunately-worded typo conjured up deliciously giggle-making images all of its own, of course, not the least of which was curious speculation as to whether five minutes later, Hughsie then followed up with a sizzler of a Balti takeaway?

Two. More on that Blues ?boing, boing? thingy, versus Wulves, on Sunday. I?m given to understand that the ?boinging? came from all four sides of the ground, not just one! Bet that must have really poked a stick in their ear, right through to the empty cavern within, probably. At least everyone found out just how quickly the Bluenose persuasion could run by the end of the game, I reckon.

Three. Adrian Goldberg, you crafty little moo, you never told me you?d just finished making a celebratory piece for Midlands Today when I talked to you in the Vine, post match!

 - Glynis Wright

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