The Diary

19 October 2004: Shelving, Stiffs And Scouts

Disaster in the Wright household today, would you believe? The first I knew of it was when I was perusing the Guardian in our living-room, early this afternoon. One minute there was tranquillity, the next there was an almighty ?bang? that really shook the place, and sent all four of my poor mogs scattering in all directions. The words ?What the friggin? hell was that?? hanging on my lips, I made my way upstairs, then into our ?office?, to find the place in a stare of utter chaos, and tons of old Albion programmes scattered all over the floor.

The culprit? Our shelving, a cheapo job when we put it up some years back, admittedly, but now deciding to give up the ghost, finally. I can?t say ?Im Indoors was all that overjoyed with the bad news when I told him on his return from work, ?Oh no, not another job!? was the plaintive wail that emerged from the Wright lips once the murder was out. And it?s true; the demands of supporting our favourite football club and producing a fanzine mean that normal domestic chores have to be ? er ? ?shelved? until there?s a break for internationals, or something, and that?s precisely what?s going to happen this time. Where?s a good handyman when you need one, eh?

Tonight saw us heading for The Shrine, and our reserve fixture with Man City, currently going great guns in the Prem Reserve League. Not that we were expecting to see much in the way of thrills and spills, mind; our normal mindset of complete and utter negativity this term has seen stiffs games become something to be endured rather than enjoyed, but tonight?s offering ran distinctly contrary to expectation, much to my surprise and delight. Although we were on the wrong end of a three-one final score, that game was one of the best ones I?ve seen this season at all levels. Both sides tried to play attractive and entertaining football, and the time flew by like nothing on earth. Smashing stuff, and here?s a short account of what happened.

On arrival, we initially parked our butts just in front of what used to be the directors? box, that space now being occupied by seats crammed in as part of the close-season drive to push up our ground capacity a smidgen. Trouble was, that row was being used as a general thoroughfare for those wanting autographs from the footballing glitterati tenanting that part of the Halfords, so we decided to shift a row further down. (The fact that because the job was done on the cheap, there was very little leg-room to be had there was also a consideration, but that?s by the by.) Once finally sorted out, time to peruse the team-sheet ? and what an Albion line-up there was. I don?t normally bother for reserve games, but cop a load of this: Kuszczac, Contra, Robinson, Hulse, Berthe, Wallwork, O?Connor, Inamoto, Dobie, Sakiri and Dyer. Subs were Chambo A, Miotto, Midworth, Smikle, and Elvins.

Notice something? Of that starting line-up, only Inamoto hadn?t appeared in the first team at some stage or another, and we also had no less than five current internationals on display (plus a Polish Under 21) so it was a pretty powerful formation that faced the visitors tonight. As I saw it, transplanted to the Championship from the Prem, were that possible, a side that could give some outfits down there more than a little grief. It says something about the rich seam of talent in that little lot that poor Chambo could only make the sub?s bench!

City, for their part, took to the field in some very strange apparel, blue shirts, as you might expect, but combined with some very long black shorts indeed, the overall effect making for a barely imperceptible gap between the bit where the shorts ended and where the socks began. Had they purchased a job lot a size too big, or something? Whatever the standard of their dress, it certainly wasn?t detrimental to the standard of their play, which was fast, and bloody exciting to watch. No surprise, then, it only took the ?other? Manchester side just five minutes to draw first blood; our defending in front of goal was truly worthy of the famous Chamber Of Horrors, despite all those agonised cries of ?Keep your shape!? and ?Don?t foul!? from Gary Shelton, in true Meggo style. Funny, that; here?s me thinking human cloning?s illegal in this country, and right in front of my eyes, there?s a bloke who?s a clone of the gaffer right down to the very last detail!

By that time, we?d been joined by Steve The Miser, plus his son David, who was clutching a bag containing some intriguingly spherical shaped lurid red sweetmeat or another. Being the nosy sort of sod I am, I asked the lad what they were. ?Blood Balls!? was the prompt reply. I?d never seem them before, but from what I?ve been told, I?m now given to understand they?re the modern day equivalent of that old schooltime favourite, the gobstopper. By that time, we were about 11 minutes into the game; more importantly, contrary to previous occasions, we were actually trying to get the scoreline level once more. There seemed an urgency about our lot that had been notably absent during previous stiffs games; a lovely corner from Sakiri, for example, caused all sorts of havoc in the City defence in front of goal, and had one of theirs not kicked the ball off the line pretty sharpish, they might well have conceded.

As I?ve said before, normally these things are a case of watching ?dead men walking?. For one reason or another, most of the pros on the field tonight had earned our gaffer?s displeasure, and were paying for it with durance vile in Albion?s equivalent of the Slough Of Despond. Not wanted in the first team, and no hope whatsoever of getting the managerial nod for a return, plus, on the bench, kids who hadn?t a hope in hell of making a breakthrough ? you could understand why the lack of motivation, sometimes. Did this sudden improvement in effort and workrate mean they were being watched by people from other clubs tonight, I wondered? It would be interesting to have a dekko behind us to see who had bothered to attend come the interval.

For their part, as the match advanced, City were causing us all sorts of trouble, mainly down the right, Bradley Wright-Phillip (is he really a relation of former Arsenal favourite lately TV game show host Ian Wright, by the way?) being the main perpetrator of the damage. Time and time again, he went through our defence like it simply wasn?t there, and as a result, Kuszczac, our keeper, had to look lively to keep them out, a series of outstanding saves keeping him quite busy for a while. And, with 21 minutes gone, we nearly levelled. The start of it was an incisive through ball, the pass coming courtesy of Inamoto, and it nearly put Dobes right through on goal. We blew it on that occasion, but just a minute or so later, we most certainly didn?t.

The start of it all was an Albion free kick, just outside the edge of the box, and pretty much in front of goal. City constructed their defensive wall, and up stepped Sakiri, who promptly took aim and fired, the end result - their keeper fishing the ball from out of the back of the net ? prompting cries of admiration, plus those of ?BLOODY HELL!? from many spectators present. What a stunning finish, easily the best I?ve seen thus far this season. Wow. From then on in until the interval, there was, pretty much, oodles of end to end stuff, both sides giving it everything. So much so, City?s Wright Phillips ended up in the ref?s little book with just five minutes to go before the break.

As both sides trudged wearily off for their half-time pep-talk and cuppa, ?Im Indoors took note of those leaving the chill of the VIP area for the warmth of the bar. He couldn?t identify everyone, but he told me lots of those present bore all the hallmarks of being involved in the game. Frank Burrows, The Dear Leader?s representative on Earth, was there, also Stuart ?Psycho? Pearce, Paul Sturrock, David Kelly, Bobby Williamson, someone clearly from Sheffield United (the badge was the giveaway) and last but not least, John Ward, of Cheltenham. No wonder our lot (or, rather, those pros who had fallen into managerial disfavour of late) were giving it big licks, then; satisfying any of that little lot could be their ticket out.

It was during the interval we heard more about Steve The Miser?s ongoing IT problems. Remember when I told you he was having trouble installing software because, in IT terms, his machine was more ancient than The Fart, even? Well, it gets better; I?ve now discovered it?s the internet he wanted to instal, and he?s had no joy to date, unsurprisingly. The other day, ?Im Indoors told GD?s PC expert his tale of woe, and that was why today, he spent around 3 and a bit hours tinkering with our resident stingebag?s machine ? and even then he had to give up in disgust in the end. Because Timm, our boffin, is shit-hot on this sort of thing, realisation has finally dawned on our tightwad treasurer that he?s got little option but to splash the cash for once and buy a machine from new, which is why he spent quite a considerable proportion of the game asking my other half for advice on what sort of PC to purchase. Was it me, or did I really see tears moisten his eyes as he related the sorry (and potentially cash-stash reducing!) tale to us?

Come the start of the second half, Albion made a change. Off went Scott Dobie, and on came Elvins, one of our young not-so-hopefuls. And, as early as two minutes into the action, our Polish keeper had to make a stunning save to keep City from retaking the lead once more. Clear warning they weren?t interested in a sharing of the spoils, but we didn?t heed it, sadly. Just two minutes later, they delivered what they?d threatened to do, the strike, a header, coming from a City corner. Despite being a somewhat lively affair, there had been little in the way of nastiness thus far, but come the 64th minute, Lloyd Dyer caught City?s Warrender with his boot, the lad took considerable umbrage at this assault on his person, and, off the ball, got his retaliation well and truly in. That was the signal for one of those ?handbags at ten paces? things, and at one point, it looked as though both would be sent for an early bath, but fortunately, the ref saw sense, and only booked the pair of them.

Just before the 75 minute mark, Albion made yet another subbing, Paul Robinson off, and Chambo on, and literally minutes after that, Warrender, already on a booking, was in trouble again, by piling into poor Sakiri like a ton of bricks. I thought Our Tim had made a bit of a meal of it, and so did the ref, presumably ? all Warrender got for his sins was a ?don?t do that again, or you?re off? sort of homily. No surprise, also, that with around nine minutes left on the clock, City made it three and out. One of their incisive and bloody quick runs cut through us once more, the ball landed up in the middle, City shot, Cuszczac parried, the rebound falling to a Mancunian, Flood, who then applied the coup de grace with consummate ease. Game over.

Barring a monumental change of heart on our part, or a change of manager to one with a more entertaining gaffering philosophy, tonight?s effort may well be our last reserve game visit for a long, long time. How come? Simple: tonight excepted, most second-string encounters have been terminally dull affairs, something we could just about tolerate while the venue was The Hawthorns, but tonight?s fixture was the last of the current season there. From now on, all ?home? games will be played at Aggborough, Kiddy Harriers? place, which is around 20 miles from where we live. What with having to make an early departure for a seven o?clock kick-off, doing battle with the rush-hour traffic from Birmingham on the dual carriageway leading to the town ? it takes around 30 minutes to get there - only diehards and mugs like us bothering, inclement weather, fuel costs (relatively small, agreed, but there, nevertheless) and so forth, the negatives pretty much outweigh the positives. So there.

And finally?. One. Remember when I told you about a phenomenal increase in donations for the Dovedale Day Care Centre on Saturday? Well, thanks to Steve the Miser, who told me the tale, I?ve now encountered a pretty unorthodox way of raising funds for this very worthwhile cause, and it?s all down to The Noise?s younger daughter, Bethany, apparently. How come? Easy. The little mite?s willing enough, but she still hasn?t quite latched on to the concept of people proffering pound coins for a publication costing less than a quid, and some of their number actually expecting to receive 20p change by way of return!

Two. On Saturday it was those sirloin steaks on sale at the ?greasy spoon? mobile van in Halfords Lane that told me Albion were well and truly in the Prem, but tonight, I was once more provided with pretty much incontrovertible proof of our top-flight status ? a chap, several seats along from us, happily digesting the contents of today?s ?Guardian? newspaper during the half-time interval!

Three. You?ve heard all the usual Megson stuff ? ?Don?t foul!? ?Pass the ball!? and ?Keep your shape!? being bawled at our finest during the heat of battle? Well, it seems there?s now a completely different managerial mantra emanating from our bench ? or should I say from the mouth of Gary Shelton? The phrase in question? ?Work it!? Coming soon to a first team game near YOU!

 - Glynis Wright

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