The Diary

21 January 2005: South Birmingham Branch Goes Dutch!

Here I am again - and blimey, what a windy sort of night we?ve got going out there, tonight. Has God been on the old baked beans and Brussels sprouts again, I wonder? Such is the strength of the gale right now, I fully expect to see one or two people doing a Mary Poppins over the Bearwood rooftops before Friday?s out. Let?s just hope that when they do eventually return, they don?t start talking in an outrageously-phoney Cockney accent, a la Dick Van Dyke.

So, what happened at South Birmingham Branch tonight, then? Well, for starters, it was a very good meeting indeed, despite the somewhat low turn-out for the event. Richard Sneekes was the star attraction, of course, and, as I outlined a few days ago, you really can?t go wrong as a branch if you can grab our former midfielder?s lanky-locked services for a few free-and-frank hours. To be perfectly honest with you lot out there, it having been so long since I last clapped eyes on him, I wasn?t all that sure what to expect these days, but take it as read Richard is still the forthright but funny bloke we all remember from days of yore.

The strange thing about Richard is the fact that should you ever pass him in the street, it wouldn?t immediately hit you that he was a former player. Take tonight for example; when we first clapped eyes on him outside the Rubery British Legion function-room, and wearing his trademark baseball cap, rounded off with hooded top, T-shirt, well-worn jeans and white trainers, he looked for all the world more like an off-duty brickie than someone who until comparatively recently had graced both Premiership and First Division stages. Add to that those well-remembered long blonde locks of his, and what you have left is an image far removed indeed from the normal media stereotype of a top-rank player.

Not that I was all that surprised, mind you. Being the free spirit he is, the day he does finally bow to conformity will be a very sad day indeed for everyone else, which is the fundamental reason why we Dick Eds rather like attending meetings where Richard?s the star attraction. There is a downside, though: because of his steadfast refusal to suffer fools gladly, not to mention the espousal of forthright views about our previous manager, even when looking back on events from a distance of some three or four seasons ago, it does tend to make things somewhat difficult for me when writing up what went on tonight. Still, The Ginger Headed One has gone, now, and I have no desire whatsoever to reopen old wounds, thank you very much. How can I put what was said (a lot, believe you me!) on the subject in a nutshell? Difficult. Suffice to say Richard still bears a grudge, loathes and detests the guy, always will, and wasn?t exactly weeping salt tears the moment he first heard Megson had been given his marching orders from the club. His personal epitaph for our former leader? ?When I heard Megson had gone, I drank champagne for three days solid, then went onto beer!?

As far as the rest goes, mind, it was all pretty interesting stuff. Holding forth in a function room that strongly resembled the interior of a courtroom, what with all those brass railings, and a structure that was a dead-ringer for a witness-box situated midway between the bar area and the stage - well, to me, at any rate: must be my previous employment having a strong bearing on things, I reckon! ? there was quite a lot about Mister Sneekes and his current incarnation that we didn?t know, it would seem. Oh ? and before I kick off properly, another thing about tonight?s session; it more or less turned into The Terry Wills And Richard Sneekes Show. Not because our co?editor was deliberately grabbing the limelight for himself, purely and simply because there wasn?t all that much coming from the floor, so Tel felt duty bound to step in.

So where do I start, then? Well, Stockport County?s as good a place as any, I reckon. As you probably know, Richard went there not long after he left us; he said tonight, he now considers them to be the ?right club at the wrong time?, and opined further that as far as facilities for players, and so forth were concerned, they were vastly inferior to ours, then went on to say he fully expected to see them in the Conference in a couple of years time. The worst aspect of being there, though, was driving up the M6 every day.

That was a definite low-point for Richard; he wasn?t all that far from giving up the game completely when he had an unexpected phone call from Brian Little, the then Hull City gaffer. Did he want to join Hull? Yes, said our hero, and thanks to the former Albion manager having a few words with Aston Villa, he had the additional bonus of not having to travel to Hull on a daily basis for training. A temporary claret and spew was the lad, well, for training purposes anyway, but as the arrangement suited both parties admirably, no worries either way. And, to be fair, Richard did enjoy working with the blubbery lot, who normally staged eight-versus-eight games by way of daily routine. Great fun, apparently. There was one slight snag, though; it so happened that Hull found themselves playing midweek games rather a lot, and on Tuesdays, as well, so that meant far more travelling than was originally anticipated. When it finally got to the stage Richard was having to do the wretched journey every day, more or less, he then decided enough was enough.

Mind you, coming to that conclusion wasn?t all that hard, purely and simply because of the fact that although Hull were going great guns at the time ? fourth in the table ain?t bad, whichever way you look at it ? Brian Little suddenly got the sack, and Jan Molby took over instead. That wouldn?t have mattered too much, but not long after his arrival, he decided he wanted Richard to train with the Humberside club on a daily basis. Come the end of that season, Richard was offered a new deal, but the main condition was he had to move to Hull, unsurprisingly. Having laid down extensive Midlands roots by then, including kids settled in local schools, it was quite understandable Richard wasn?t willing to do that, so that was it, basically.

But that wasn?t the end of Sneekes?s career. Out of the blue, Richard had a phone call from former Albion director Clive Stapleton, who had just bought a Danish club and was on the lookout for good players to bring in. Was Richard interested? Yup ? so off to Denmark he toddled, mainly to get a look at the set-up and decide there and then whether or not that was a wise career-choice for him, but after looking long and hard at the proposition, Richard reluctantly turned it down. Quite an emotional moment it was, too, purely and simply because that decision meant the end of this professional career. However, there was yet another twist and turn to the saga to come; the Danish club?s coach talked him into coming anyway, for a short period, at least. The arrangement was that Richard would fly to Denmark on Thursday each week, but even that became too much for him, eventually, and it was with a certain degree of reluctance that he made the decision to quit once more ? and this time, there was no going back.

For the next eight months, Richard lived purely on his savings, after which he reached the age of 35, when his two pensions, one from his Holland playing days, and the other here, both kicked in. Having five kids to clothe and feed is a very expensive game, so it wasn?t too long after that our former player decided to seek a form of alternative employment he knew he would enjoy. The solution? The wonderful worlds of cookery and catering, strangely enough. How come? Easy: Richard had a couple of chums he?d known for around two years, Italians, the pair of ?em, and one day, whilst talking among themselves, they suddenly hit upon the idea of starting up a brand-new restaurant in the Sutton area, the three of them being in partnership and divvying up the profits between them. These guys were very clued-up indeed about the catering trade; one was a chef, and the other a maitre d?hotel, and had jointly run a similar sort of undertaking before. So successful had they been, once the new concern was finally opened for business, quite a few of their former clientele decided to up sticks from the old place and patronise the new venture instead.

As for as Richard is concerned, his primary role consists of looking after the financial side of things. Attending between the hours of eleven am and three pm daily, he makes sure both staff ? eight at present ? and suppliers get paid, plus seeing to the purchase of both food and supplies also. Also part of his remit is searching for (celebrity chefs would call it ?sourcing?, I?ll bet) new supplies; it?s because of the fact the learning curve?s so steep, he?s since found out that the worst thing one can possibly do in the catering trade is to go to Makro on the Sunday before Christmas! (Quick note to readers not all that familiar with Blighty, Makro is a massive retail and catering suppliers situated right in the heart of the Black Country!) The restaurant has been open for some six weeks, now, and Richard is very heartened by the brisk response. What with his two chums? former customers jumping ship and patronising the place, plus the considerable amount of publicity generated by virtue of the fact Richard is a former pro player, things are really looking up right now.

Unlike other former pros, though, the one thing Richard doesn?t do with his spare time these days is spend the greater part of it watching games on the box. Having said that, mind, sometimes he does run to switching on when we?re the star attraction. As far as our present crop are concerned, he?s most impressed with Clem, reckons he?s improved no end over the past few months, and seems so comfortable on the ball these days. As far as his opinion of our current gaffer goes, Richard does think Bryan Robson has quite a difficult job on his plate right now. The problem lies is the fact that he wasn?t able to spend money when he first came in, the reason being current transfer restrictions, of course. That, plus the fact he never reaped the benefit of a proper pre-season with what he has at the club now. Surprisingly enough, he?s still of the belief that we can still pull it off. Staying up, I mean, his rationale being there?s so little to choose from between the current bottom four.

His all-time favourite manager? Bruce Rioch. Best Albion manager? Ray Harford. More words on the latter: ?-Brilliant coach: he kept players interested and involved, even when they weren?t in the side, and was a lovely guy to talk to. You might have thought by looking at him he was a grumpy sort of guy but he wasn?t like that at all. He knew the game, and knew what he was talking about?.?

And, with that, just time for one more thing, well two, really: first off, Richard plays for fun these days, mostly charity games, which he enjoys enormously; he?s currently a mainstay of the ?Albion Old Masters? side. Cue for joke: A ?Dutch Old Master?? Aw, suit yerself! The second? Not so much about Richard, more to do with South Birmingham Branch, really. Or, should I say, their buffet? All the usual sort of fare on offer tonight, but with one fundamental difference ? a calorie-laden but exceedingly scrummy selection of jam doughnuts and iced sticky buns by way of ?afters?. Beat that, Sutton Coldfield Branch!

Supporters Club business apart, what else have we Dick Eds been up to this week? Come Tuesday night, it was off down the M5 for a bitty little Bulls-watching, they still being in the FA Trophy and everything. A pretty cold night, but clear with it; away from all the light pollution, finally, familiar constellations twinkled away in all their stellar glory, as we rapidly homed in on that cathedral city. Once at the ground ? a very poor gate of around 700, by the way; might have been much better had the Bulls dropped admission prices a tadge ? we caught up on last Saturday?s unfinished business with Accrington Stanley, Paul Crichton and all, once more. Given that we?d witnessed extra time and penalties at Edgar Street on no less than three previous occasions this term, ?Im Indoors was anxiously wondering as to whether or not history would commence burping once more, but he shouldn?t have.

The Bulls started off lumping it long, unusually for them, and Stanley simply couldn?t cope. Two in arrears by the end of the first half (plus a sending-off that left them down to ten thereafter), two in the second, both netted by Danny Carey-Bertram, a former Baggie, of course. By the time the game finally reached its allotted span, one had the gut feeling that the visitors (only FIVE of their followers bothered to make the long, long trip from Lancashire to ?Zoider country?; surely, the classic choral insult: ?You must have come in a taxi!? was specifically invented for them?) had been lucky just to end up four in arrears. Oh ? and before I forget; our good buddy Calamity Crichton. None of the four that sailed past his desperately-outstretched arms could really be ascribed to him. Shame.

And, after leaving the ground, then hoiking ourselves back to The Dickmobile ? thanks to the abysmal turnout, we?d managed to park up quite close to the ground, for once ? yet another source of mirth, this time via the radio, or, to be more accurate, commentator Alan Green. Burnley-Liverpool was the live game, and, as we tuned in, entering the final quarter of the 90 minutes. We?d already seen, disbelievingly, that The Clarets had gained the upper hand ? one of the joys of the Conference club being unique in that neck of the woods in having at their disposal the benison of an electronic scoreboard, may I say ? so when we returned to our vehicle post-match, and heard they were still one in front, we couldn?t stop laughing. And what made it even better was the fact that by all accounts, the Merseyside club had spent most of the game playing like a bunch of over-ripe bananas.

Oh, remember what I said the other day about that geographically-embarrassed banner at Stanley?s place last Saturday, the one that proclaimed ?WE SEE WELSH PEOPLE?? Well, when I was nattering to one of ?Im Indoors?s Bull-loving chums, Nick, about it on Tuesday night, it transpired that he also spotted the wretched thing last Saturday, and very indignant he was about it, too, may I say. When I chucked in my tenpennorth about advanced geographical studies clearly not being a popular choice among schoolkids in that part of Lancashire, Nick quietly pondered for a couple of seconds, then replied: ?When I saw it, and fumed, had I been given the means to do one for myself right there and then, I would have written: ?I SEE ILLITERATE PEOPLE? on it. But then again, being illiterate, they wouldn?t have read it, would they??

Almeyda? As I?d feared, news from the western front indicates that instead of coming to sample the heady delights of the Black Country, as we?d been led to believe, he?s now opting for the old pipe-and-slippers routine instead. Wouldn?t surprise me at all to discover he?s now applied for his bus pass and joined the ranks of the ?Twerlies? (Translation for overseas readers: newly-fledged senior citizens in the West Midlands conurbation who, having successfully applied for a bus pass entitling them to free travel, instantly adopt habits long ingrained into the minds of their peers, most notably, one of hanging around bus stops until the stroke of half-nine in the morning, the earliest possible time pensioners can take full advantage of the concession. Always recognisable by their clarion call to the driver of the first bus to heave into sight: ?Am/are I/we too early?? Geddit?)

Or has he? I?ve also seen the suggestion made that he?s been slightly economical with the truth as far as we?re concerned. Apparently, if Wednesday?s newspaper reports are to be believed, River Plate are trying to woo him away from retirement before he?s even hung up his boots. Oh, and one account has him as saying that he hasn?t entirely ruled out the possibility of a move to The Black Country either. Dearie, dearie me: ?He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me???

Still, we may be in with a shout of grabbing Burnley?s Robbie Chaplow instead. Once the RSPCA have checked us out as per their ?good owner? criteria, of course. For obvious reasons, I didn?t see him versus Liverpool, but from what I saw of the game on the ?highlights? clip the Beeb showed prior to the main billing, it looked very much as though he was quite a busy little Claret last night. Shame about the sitter he missed, though.

Oh well, it was nice while it lasted, I suppose. The delicious thought, however remote, of Conference Exeter putting one over Premiership panto villains everyone in creation wants to boo and hiss Manchester United. A shame, really: what did it for them was the fact they seemed to start as if they were all suffering from an overdose of the old ?We?re not worthy!? syndrome. That?s why the execution of United?s opener, with around ten minutes gone, looked not dissimilar to the way some school bullies go about nicking sweets off first-year kids. And, having broken the deadlock so early in the proceedings, I fully expected a cricket score ? but it didn?t happen. The Grecians somehow kept The Red Devils out until half-time, but instead of coming out cowering for the second helping, they started giving the visitors a little bit of their own medicine by way of return, and might have scored, even, given a little more luck than they had at crucial moments. Sure, Rooney sealed it for the Mancs with about two minutes left, but I don?t suppose all that many watching in their homes cheered their heads off ? not outside Manchester, at any rate.

And there was an Albion link, also; remember Kwame Ampadu, he of the Bobby Gould era? Brought on as a sub on Saturday, he was actually given a start for the replay ? and was extremely lucky to stay on the pitch following an X-Certificate tackle on one of United?s poor little darlings, for which he saw yellow. Seriously, though, it really was an awful lunge, studs up, the works; had I been in charge, he?d have walked, straight red, no question about it. Clearly, the Exeter manager thought along similar lines, because not long after that, the former Albion player was subbed. Sure, they?re well and truly out of the competition, now, and come Saturday, it?ll be straight back to the rough and tumble of the Conference for them ? but, what the hell. It was fun for them while it lasted, and as a happy by-product of that Cup run, all the TV revenue, prize money for having got that far, commercial spin-offs, and so forth, means they should now be in an excellent position to pay off pretty much all of their outstanding debts. Just as well, really, as they came pretty damn close to going under at one stage.

Back tomorrow with a closer look at our encounter with Man City this Saturday. Surely David James can?t play as badly as he did for them the other week? Can he?

And Finally? Bernt Hass. First of all it was the ingestion of alcohol in great quantity, and getting completely paralytic very publicly. Now it?s a porn website, assuming what the Currant Bun said yesterday is to be believed. Is there no end to this man?s talents?

 - Glynis Wright

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