The Diary

26 August 2004: Honours Even - But Transfer Rumours Abound

Three 1-1 draws on the bounce, so given our familiarity with that scoreline by now, it came as no surprise whatsoever tonight to find, on our return, we were Number ? er, - ?one-one? in the Premiership table! And above Man U, as well, so enjoy it while you can, kiddiwinkles. At least we got home in plenty of time for the Carlton Cup draw ? although, when we finally came out of the hat, we really wished we hadn?t! I?m now firmly convinced the organisers of that competition have signed a mutual pact consigning us to long-distance away ties for ever more! Well, I ask you ? Hartlepool and Newcastle last season, now bloody Colchester away this term. No, chaps, we?re not sponsored by a petrol firm, or a motorway services, come to think about it, just a bloody mobile phone company!

Now for a few observations about tonight, the first being the most obvious ? my God, do we need a striker, and quick! Well done to Zoltan for putting us in front so quickly ? some poor sods were still taking their seats courtesy more turnstile problems in the Halfords, and therefore missed it ? and a bloody big black mark to our rearguard for giving the ball away so cheaply to let in Spurs for their equaliser in the 33rd minute. It?s not that often these days you can say a Megson side looked sharper up front than at the back during a game, but there were times tonight when it certainly looked that way. We lived pretty dangerously at times back there, and were fortunate to (mostly) get away with it; Lady Luck may not smile on us as graciously on Saturday, so let?s hope things buck up a bit. You?re in the Premiership now, not the Mickey Mouse League, Albion ? so don?t forget it. Changing the subject slightly, interestingly, there was a buzz sweeping the East Stand tonight that we?d signed Wiltord ? info courtesy The Fart ? presumably the media will ascertain the veracity of that one come the morrow. Or not. Aw, you ought to know how these things can get around by now. Wildfire isn?t in it`.

Tonight was a ?first? for us Dick Eds in that for the first time, we all had an opportunity to sample the delights of the Supporters? Club new home, The Hawthorns Hotel. Their new abode is situated in the rear of that establishment, in what used to be the hostelry?s training kitchens ? presumably, all that sort of thing went down the Swannee when the government stopped paying out grants for training kids on the job in the basic culinary skills, i.e. burger-flipping and chip-frying. Instead, what we found once inside (apart from The Fart, who patiently awaited our presence there) was a d?cor more suited to the inside of an Arab sheikh?s tent than a matchday boozer, all subdued (moody?) uplighting and billowy beige cloth that hung from the ceiling and the walls in a most intriguing manner, a bar flogging the basics at one end of the room (only four staff serving, though), and lots of chairs and tables nestled cosily within. A little bird tells me the Supporters Club are also attempting to get a big screen into the place for the benefit of their clientele, but how true that is I?ve no idea. If they are, then good on ?em for trying.

I?m told the SC reckon the new accommodation is more capacious than the Throstle Club, but I can?t see it, personally. Colonel Ghadaffi, the Libyan leader much taken to living in such tented accommodation, would certainly feel completely at home in the place. No Rudolph Valentino to do his Sheikh of Araby thing ? ?Come with me to the Casbah!? - but in lieu of the Twenties film-star and heartthrob, the usual Committee suspects on the front desk; all I got from them was the usual Black Country stuff, which didn?t do much for the middle-eastern ambience, unfortunately. Let?s just hope the US Air Force, no strangers to bombing Arab tents themselves, never find out about the place ? the SC are bound to get a ?visit? they never bargained for if they do.

A glass of Coke each to the good, all four of us then quit the joint to get the selling thing underway. At least our stock HQ, situated on the Hawthorns Hotel Car Park, is a lot nearer for both The Noise and The Fart. We have to make our way back down Halfords Lane; some people don?t know they?re born! It being a midweek game, selling was distinctly patchy tonight, but what didn?t help, I suppose, was the sheer numbers of people wanting to have a quick word; not conducive to successful selling activities at all, may I say. Among those doing the social whirl were David Payne, our tame Aussie Baggie, Marion Brennan of the E and S, she of the famous allotment in West Bromwich, also not-so-famous Norm Bartlam (but he is a published author, honest!), who told me that two Baggie blokes from Ireland came over specifically to see tonight?s game; they?re going back tomorrow, apparently. Isn?t it amazing? You can watch The Baggies from The Emerald Isle courtesy the expenditure in fare of only around ? 20 or ?30 with Ryanair, but if you want to travel to York by rail to watch a game ? we did enquire the other week, as we had ambitions of doing just that for the Hereford game ? the cheapest fare available (cheap day return, allegedly!) was a stonking ?120! Now, someone high up in politics, please tell me the sense in that?

A slight glitch when we tried to get in the ground. No, the turnstiles didn?t ?die? on us this time, ?Im Indoors?s stilecard did! There was no problem whatsoever with mine; I went through without the slightest sign of a hitch, and I had thought my other half was immediately behind me, but when I turned around after ?breaking through to the other side? (shades of Jim Morrison, there!), he?d completely vanished! Ooer. For a fleeting moment, I wondered whether vile creatures from another dimension, alerted by the card malfunction, had spirited him away, but he did surface, via another entrance, several minutes later. Phew! Apparently, there?s something wrong with the card, and Albion have faithfully promised to post us another one, so all was well in the end.

When read out, prior to kick-off, our side was much as I?d thought. Bernt Hass got the (singed?) bum?s rush, and Zoltan Gera got the nod instead. Another intriguing departure was on the bench, with young Lloyd Dyer being given a chance to show his mettle ? assuming our manager was willing to give him one, of course. Personally, I?d dismissed the idea as being too bold a move for an important Premiership game, but, as things worked out, it just showed how dead wrong you can be at times. As far as Spurs were concerned, the best bit concerned bloody Robbie Keane, kept firmly on the subs bench ? still not fit, presumably. At least that?s what The Noise reckoned before the game. Also absent, completely, was their new signing from West Ham, Carrick, the Baggies ?One That Got Away?, if you like, but they did give a debut to their French lad, Paramot. Another odd fact? Both sides had a Paul Robinson in their ranks, and on the pitch at the same time, as well. A shame, then, we didn?t have the chap who normally sits next to us present also. His name is ? yep, you?ve guessed it. Are they trying to start a master-race, or something?

Kick-off, then ? and, joy in The Halfords after just three minutes when Zoltan decided to serve us up a little bit of grilled cockerel for starters ? it all started when he got the ball on the edge of the box, then held off some distinctly unwelcome defensive attentions to belt it past their keeper. Loved the gymnastic celebration, as well ? who needs shirt-waving when you?ve got that? Well done also to ?Im Indoors who, just before Zoltan?s successful strike, loudly lamented, ?I wish we could get a goal in open play?.? After that, Spurs looked distinctly rocky at the back for a while, and we could have gone still further in front quite easily. Not long afterwards, The Horse was put completely clear and it took some determined work from their rearguard to prevent a doubling of the score. Things were looking good, but, as we seasoned Baggie-watchers ought to know all-too well, it wasn?t to last.

Midway through the half, silly errors began to creep in, giving the ball away in midfield, that sort of thing. The trouble is, you might get away with it in the First, or the Championship, or whatever it?s called this time, but you can?t in our league; if you do, you pay for it. See below for details. With 25 minutes gone, Spurs got the ball back from an Albion corner, ran like a bat out of hell for our box, and there was no-one whatsoever at the back to cover ? fortunately, the shot went narrowly wide. Shame about the Spurs supporters, though ? they thought it had gone in, and howled like banshees until corrected in no uncertain terms by our lot! Five minutes later saw us completely unable to get the ball out of our own half, and our rearguard looking distinctly rocky ? and yet Gera could have got another a minute later, when he out-jumped the Tottingham defenders, to see the effort deflected around the post.

That was an aberration, though, and we finally paid for our sins some two minutes later. Our old mate Defoe was the architect of our destruction, letting fly with an almighty belter, which evaded Houlty?s best efforts to save the situation. Did Houlty see the ball late, or was he just plain slow? Discuss. And then there was the moment, about seven minutes from the break, when we thought we?d restored the lead once more; first off (I think) Kanu had a go, and that was saved, then AJ had a punt from the return, from just inside the box, which was stopped, then came an overhead kick from the Nigerian, which went in. Trouble was, the lino ruled it offside. A quick word about the curious decision-making processes of that official; strange how it was in that first half that every time we went on the break, our attacks were ruled offside by the man with the flag, and yet in the second half, every time Spurs did similar, the flag stayed stubbornly down! Was our goal ?off?? I wouldn?t like to say, as the flag came from the right hand side of the Smethwick end and therefore at an awkward angle for me, but those Albionites sitting at that end certainly let their feelings be known about the situation! I hope I get the chance to see a replay of that incident ? it should prove interesting.

Half-time, then. Oh good, a chance to have a quick tinkle, and listen to the discussion/moans in the Ladies about ?the goal that never was?. Come on, girls, that?s the Premiership for you ? we never thought it was ?fair? two seasons ago, so why should, things be any different now? More worrying still, I couldn?t see a way of making the situation better using what we had on the bench. Back, then, and a chance to guzzle some pop before the second portion; thanks to the time spent in lavatorial discussion, I didn?t have to wait too long for the teams to re-emerge. Off we went once more, and much to my annoyance, that worrying trend of giving the ball away cheaply seemed to continue; only a brilliant save from Houlty for a Spurs corner stopped them taking the lead when they?d absolutely skinned us at the back right after we?d done precisely that. Then, about 4 minutes after that, play suddenly swung to the other end of the park, where The Horse was seemingly brought down like a wet sack of spuds in the box by their keeper. The Brummie howled like things demented for a penalty, but the ref didn?t want to know. Well, that was a bloody surprise, now, wasn?t it?

Two minutes more were to elapse, then ? blow me down with a feather, Meggo decided to change it! Take AJ off, and give Lloyd Dyer his Premiership debut? Blimey, the sun (moon? - it was half-full tonight!) must have got to our leader, or something, because that?s precisely what he did do, Greening being shoved out into the middle to make way for the lad and his lightning speed. We didn?t have to wait long to see what our shiny-skulled ebony-hued wunderkind could do; a couple of minutes more saw the lad force a corner on the left hand side of the Brummie, to much in the way of cheers from the occupants of that end of the pitch. Shame it came to naught, really.

That little bit of offensive play from our finest wasn?t to last. Spurs put their foot firmly on the gas pedal once more, and we were pretty hard pressed to contain them. In response, our leader decided to change things once more; with 15 minutes gone, off came The (knackered?) Horse, and on came Dobes, and with but ten minutes remaining, off came Zoltan, to deserved applause, and on came Big Dave, presumably to shore up our sagging defence, although giving the ball away in our box seconds after coming on wasn?t exactly what our gaffer had in mind for our ginormous substitute! As for Spurs, they too had their changes to make, principally Defoe for Keane, with about 20 minutes of the half played. What made the change so funny for us in The Halfords was Defoe?s extreme reaction to his subbing; think ?dollies? ?prams? and ?thrown? and you?ve pretty much got the picture. Who?s a naughty little boy, then? Tut-tut!

Although both sides seemed to settle for the draw around midway through the half, one incident of note occurred; an almighty clash of heads between Kanu and one of the cockerel persuasion. Our Nigerian international seemed to get the worst of the encounter, but nothing was found to be too amiss, fortunately, although, as he was about to run back onto the pitch again, Nick Worth was seen to be titivating his sore bonce with a spray or two from what looked suspiciously like a common-or-garden Sainsbury?s plant-spray! Blimey, it?s amazing what a bit of Baby Bio will do. Oh ? and another thought. Just before the end, about five minutes, in fact, our chum the lino actually managed to get an offside right! Much ironic cheering from our side of the ground when this happened, as you might expect. No, he wasn?t exactly flavour of the month tonight, especially at the point in the game when both he and the ref failed to stop play when one of ours went down injured in the box, and Spurs got the ball from our lot, who had, naturally, expected that gentleman to stop play ? and they looked suspiciously offside when the telling pass down the flank occurred, as well. The fact they nearly scored into the bargain didn?t exactly go down well with our lot either.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was that. Still, a point?s better than a kick up the fundament anytime, so no complaints from me ? and we could so easily have ended up with absolute zilch to show for our pains. Two seasons ago, we would have got absolutely leathered by them, so that?s progress of a sort. Indeed, the BBC later described the draw as a ?well-earned point for Tottenham?, another indicator of just how far we?ve come. But ? the problem still remains; as I said in my opening piece, WE NEED A BLOODY STRIKER! I will have more to say about some players tomorrow ? I do have to get sleep some time, after all! ? but one quick word about young Lloydie. I suspect a hefty dose of nerves got to him, as more often than not, he seemed to be fluffing passes that he would have had for breakfast last season. Never mind, though; some of his runs left the visitors totally for dead. A couple of more goes under his belt, and the necessary top-flight experience will be his.

Next up, Everton, who look to be in a bit of a mess, both on and off the pitch. It?s looking very much as though Wayne Rooney will be on his bike one way or another ? although that won?t affect Saturday, he?s injured, of course ? and that mystery ?20 million Russian bid for the club seems to have come to naught as well. I wonder how long Moyes will last if this nonsense goes on for much longer? Shame Rooney?s not playing, though ? I would imagine Big Dave has a little bit of unfinished business from two seasons ago to settle with the cheeky little sod ? but there you go. This is the sort of game we need to get something from, so let?s do it. With any luck, striking reinforcements will be well in hand by then ? oh, and that game?s the last time we?ll be without Mr. Koumas?s silky services, so there?s that to look forward to as well.

One snippet of good news when we finally got back; Fencenvaros have gone out of the Champions League, so we may get Huszti on board after all. Oh ? and another (very) late snippet, hot off the press! According to tomorrow?s Guardian, we?ve made another bid for Robert Earnshaw of Cardiff City. Although Sam Hamaan is saying publicly he won?t budge on our initial offer of ?2 million plus Greegs, he might well have to relent, as they?re oodles in debt, and are trying to move to a new ground anyway. The Guardian also reckon that Earnshaw doesn?t get on all that well with manager Lennie Lawrence. Oh, and another thought ? am I right in thinking he knew Frank Burrows when he was at Cardiff?

And finally?.. You know what the slogan says, ?Say It With Flowers? ? well, here?s the ideal gift for the Dingle in your life ? a Titan Arum plant. Possessing a flower stalk about 6 and a half feet high, they only bloom every 20 years, apparently, but there?s one doing precisely that right now, and it?s in Cambridge, should you want to rush out and buy it for Someone You Love in Wolverhampton. Its unique selling-point? Although blooms from this plant are about as infrequent as Halley?s Comet, when they do flower, the blossoms have a strong odour of rotting flesh, enough to make grown men weep, apparently, so bearing in mind the sheer unpleasantness of our local rivals, what could be more appropriate, say I?

 - Glynis Wright

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