The Diary

03 January 2005: Curtains For Us? Try The Transfer Window Instead!

Welcome to the second day of the month, the new year, even, and one in stark contrast to the watery scenes encountered at the Reebok yesterday afternoon, thank goodness. Blue skies in The Black Country, cold, a little windy for my liking, but a vast improvement on the saturation-point alternate soaking and freezing we all endured for the stipulated hour and a half just 24 hours previously. Mind you, just to demonstrate how things like that can be relative at times, the word is both Norwich at Pompey, and Reading at Gillingham had it far worse than we. Away ends completely at the mercy of the elements, of course, coupled with a drenching of Swindon proportions. And I absolutely dread to think what happened in Milton Keynes, and their complete abortion of a visitors end. A local hospital completely filled with hypothermia cases, no doubt. With weather like that unexpectedly served up on our plates come the fag-end of this holiday weekend, time to get out and about, and sample the culinary delights of rural Worcestershire, not to mention the delightful way the sun was casting golden rays around all those waterlogged and windswept fields and meadows.

Not only that, the coming of January can only mean one thing these days. No, not the New Year sales; overindulgence in conspicuous consumption has never been my personal bag, and never will be as long as I continue to have any say in the matter. I must be about the only female in creation to subscribe to that point of view, I reckon, but there you are. I HATE BLOODY SALES. Period. In fact, point me towards one, and I?ll immediately head off in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, our local football club doesn?t really have the luxury of that choice, should they be genuinely serious about retaining their Premiership place, of course, so it?s with renewed interest right now, that we all continue to peruse the various media to try and ascertain what our manager?s market-place strategy is going to be in order to stem the tide. Assuming Robson genuinely does have sufficient dosh to play with, of course.

A fun occupation, that; for the fan in the street, half the pleasure?s derived from working out which tabloid journalistic rumour-monger?s pen has been the most imaginative, not to mention inventive. And maybe, just maybe, while sifting through all that journalistic garbage, you might just get to spot the occasional bang-on piece cunningly hidden amidst all the muck. The principle?s easy to understand; pan for gold, mine for diamonds, and there?s always tons of useless mineral ore to sift through before carefully searching what remains for any bona-fide rocks or gems. Almeyda?s signature we have already, of course, but The Mirror are currently linking us with a loan deal for Eric Djemba-Djemba, of Man Ure fame. There might be something in that one, as Fergie and Robbo are still reckoned to be as thick as thieves. We?re also reported to be interested in two more of United?s supernumerary cherubs, David Bellion, and Brazilian midfielder Kleberson. But that?s not all, by a long chalk.

What, if anything, are we to make of The Birmingham Post?s stuff concerning Robbo trying to sort out a ?5 million double swoop for Croatia internationals Igor Tudor and Stipe Pletikosa? Closer examination reveals we?re allegedly hoping to pay Juventus ?3 million for out-of favour centre-back Tudor, while ?2 million should persuade Ukrainian giants Shakhtar Donetsk to sell 'keeper Pletikosa, who has also slipped down the pecking order ? assuming the Carson stuff (as outlined below) is duff gen, of course.

Remember all those stories doing the rounds yesterday about Leeds England Under 21 keeper Scott Carson joining us in a 500K cash deal, plus no less than three of our current players included in the package as well? On first spotting the story, my immediate reaction was the whole thing didn?t quite ring true, and that was why the piece I saw in The Observer today simply served to confirm my rapidly-growing suspicions. The lad?s CV might sound pretty good on paper, sure, but, to date, his first team experience with the Yorkshire club has been somewhat limited, shall we say?

Just what can the guy offer that we haven?t already got? Sure, the 19 year-old stepped into the custodial breach a couple of times when they were in the Prem last season, but as far as the current one?s concerned, he?s been left well and truly on the sidelines. Compare his current record to those of both our regular understudies, Joe Murphy and the guy with the funny Polish name, and there?s no contest, really. And not only that; because he?s now a free agent by virtue of his youth, and can quite legally talk to anyone he wants about a move, there?s so many other dogs in the pound ? Liverpool, Arsenal, Spurs, Man Urinal, plus Chelski, to no-one?s particular surprise - getting an anticipatory sniff at what lies behind the bars of the cage, it?s all becoming a bit silly. If the Observer?s piece is to be believed, and all that high-level competition genuinely to be buzzing around the jam-pot in droves right now, does anyone seriously believe for a minute we?d stand a decent chance of landing his signature? Get real.

All of this feverish transfer speculation zooming around the electronic void right now is predicated upon two important observations. The first? That our board are willing to stump up the necessary cash to secure the signature of one or more of the aforementioned gentlemen right on the doted line. Sure, such an act of largesse might well transpire to be the one that lands us a pig in a poke straight into our own back yard, but on the other hand, being brave, taking a risk, albeit a calculated one, might well be the one positive act that makes the miracle possible. Remember when our former manager first arrived, some four or so seasons ago? At the time, we were looking pretty much lower-division material. Morale, both players and supporters, shot to hell, gates down, comparatively little transfer money available, the works. Then, come deadline day, all those vital signings, both loan and free-transfer; not only did they steady the ship, they introduced much-needed fresh legs and a different way of thinking into our relegation battle. Thanks to that, we managed to survive by the skin of our teeth. Charlton, at home, the last day? 2-0? Remember?

My second? That revolves around the supposition that although we may not enjoy much Premiership street-cred these days, what might prove to be the tipping-point could well be the enormously-high reputation and respect our current leader enjoys among some of the game?s more eminent and prominent movers and shakers. That lingering relationship with United, and their tempestuously-tempered gaffer, for example, might well turn up trumps for us; what we are offered merely crumbs from their sumptuously-appointed table, by comparison, but what?s currently surplus to Fergie?s requirements might not necessarily be surplus to ours. Potential signings also know, from childhood and/or teenage memories of watching Robbo strutting his stuff for England and United, that our leader has been there, done it, worn the bloody tee-shirt, and gained gongs and cups in abundance as a result. Not to mention an OBE from Lizzie. It used to be a common cry in barrack-rooms of old, following a heated exchange of views, or situations where a young and keen NCO was trying to assert his authority over twenty or thirty weary old sweats, came that hoary one-liner: ?Show us yer chuffin? medals, then!? In other words, Robbo?s very high standing in the game might be sufficient to get us players sufficiently skilled to get us out but, as before, it all boils down to how much risk Jeremy Peace and Co. are willing to take.

Turning our attention to tomorrow?s fear-ridden battle with The Toon (sure, they beat ?that lot? from Small Heath at home yesterday, thereby ending that awful slide down the table of theirs, but they are still far from secure) Butt, Kluivert, Shearer, Eliott and Johnsen are all definitely out, apparently, while Bellamy remains a major doubt. New-bugs Boumsong and Babayaro are still ineligible to play, of course, while Stevie Carr (absolutely no relation to our parsimonious treasurer, by the way, honest!) should also be treading the Hawthorns swarth following injury.

As far as our own lot are concerned, Tommy Gaardsoe returns to the squad after suspension, while Jason Koumas, now deemed fit enough to start, could well be out there properly, for once, as might fellow viral casualty Earnie. Can we actually improve on those few small steps for Baggie-kind we?ve managed to take over the last five days or so? It all depends upon whether or not our strikeforce can rediscover the true function of those rectangular netty things adorning either end of the park, I suppose. Plus the ability, coupled with determination of our defence not to concede, literally, within minutes of the final whistle blowing, of course.

Back tomorrow evening, of course and, hopefully, to celebrate with an almighty ?whoopee!?, not a bloody wake. In the meantime, where ever you are in the world, keep on smiling ? it?s all we?ve got right now.

And Finally?. One. Making the most of what might be an all-too brief sunny spell this Sabbath lunchtime, both ?Im Indoors and myself decided to head on out to the Live And Let Live pub in Chaddersley Corbett, Worcestershire, and once there, to sample one of their excellent Sunday roasts. Not all that far from Worcester itself, actually, but that?s a totally separate issue. The reason I?m mentioning this is because on the opposite table to ours, there was a family group cheerfully nattering away among themselves in highly-animated fashion. Normally that sort of thing would have flown well beneath my radar, but what made me really prick up my ears were the words ?Glenn Hoddle? emerging from the mouth of one of the group.

Glenn Hoddle? Turning to ?Im Indoors, who was eating in a manner strongly suggestive of a rumour ingestion of food in quantity was shortly to be banned by the government, I quickly nudged him and said, ?I reckon we?ve got a load of Dingles sitting over there; you hear Hoddle?s name mentioned just then?? ?Im Indoors concurred, so I carried on listening, mainly to the young lad, for a couple of minutes more, then quickly nudged my other half again. ?It?s OK,? said I, in a somewhat relieved tone of voice, ?They can?t be Dingles after all; the young lad?s just asked Dad if he can borrow a pen!?..?

Two. Talk about nominative determinism. In today?s Sunday Times, or, to be more accurate, their sports supplement, you?ll find a full-page interview with The Horse awaiting your delectation. But, excellent piece though it may be, and well-researched, too, that?s not my main reason for mentioning it. What really caught my eye were some small details of Geoff?s family background. Dad being an ex-miner, mum a bakery worker, for example. But, as you plough even further into the piece, there?s yet another surprising revelation; our striker also has a grown-up sister, Gillian. And you?ll never believe what she does for a living, although, if you care to think hard and long enough about it, you might well have already sussed what I?m about to say. The lovely Gillian?s particular line of work? VETERINARY SURGEON, what else? One final thought: does Geoff need her assistance every time he needs a new pair of shoes, I wonder?

 - Glynis Wright

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