The Diary

05 February 2005: Cooked Canary, Or Spit-Roast Throstle?

Right, then. Got your tranquillisers, antidepressants and Samaritans number handy? Our game sure as hell is going to be the one that either leaves us still in there pitchin?, or every Baggie contemplating the wearisome thought of Championship football at The Shrine come season 2005-06. And, yes, I?m still absolutely steaming about the inept way in which we let the prize slip from our grasp versus Palace. To show sufficient guts to rectify a one-goal deficit so late in the game, go on to take the lead at the death, only to lose it again a minute or so later really does take the dictionary definition of the word ?frustration? to new levels.

Tomorrow, it?s a Carrow Road tryst with Delia?s lovely lot, Darren Huckerby and all, and the prize up for grabs a temporary relegation reprieve for the winning side. Lose, either club, and you might as well forget it. It?s with that very real threat hanging over our heads tomorrow that I make an impassioned plea for at least one change to the side tomorrow. Robbo, you can stick Gaardsoe in ?that? slot, a half-fit Big Dave even, and no-one would mind that much. Come to think about it, give Houlty a well-deserved break from shivering to death between the sticks by sticking him there, if you want, but whatever you do, DON?T PICK BLOODY PURSE!!! He?s such a one-man disaster zone right now, he deserves a substantial UN humanitarian aid presence all to himself.

What I would like to see, though, is our new loan signing, Richardson, being given his chance to shine at Carrow Road. He wasn?t on the pitch for very long versus Palace, sure, but what little I saw I liked. Will Robbo have the bottle to cry havoc, and let loose the dogs of war, aka new recruit Chaplow, against Delia?s lot also, I wonder? As far as the mustard-makers are concerned, Norwich have defender Adam Drury with a hamstring strain; whether he?ll be right enough to make the side tomorrow is anyone?s guess. Graham Stuart, who replaced Drury at Everton in midweek, could make his home debut, while Youssef Safri could come into contention after a lay-off. One thing?s for sure, though; it?s going to be bloody cold out there, so wrap up well. This is your Great Auntie Glynis talking, remember? Why? Just look at a decent map of Europe; cross The North Sea, shoot over the Low Countries, and all stations east, and the first bit of high ground you?ll encounter after that will be the Urals. Not an obscure kidney condition, mind, just one of Russia?s biggest mountain ranges; given that?s the only half-decent wind-break existing between ?them? and ?us?, now you know why it?s always flamin? freezing in Anglia come this time of year.

The thing is, though, if everything remains tight right to the death, for any or all of the clubs currently in the doo-doo, the fag-end of the current campaign ain?t going to be one for those of a nervous disposition. Take tomorrow?s opponents, for instance. Come the 5th March, they?re at home to Chelsea. Come the 2nd of April, they?re away to the Arse; then, a week later, on the 9th, they ?entertain?, if that?s the right word, Man Utd. After that, their ?run in? is Sat 16th April, Crystal Palace, away; Tuesday 19th April, Newcastle, home; Saturday 23rd April ? that?s St. George?s day, if you want to get all patriotic about it ? home to Charlton; Saturday 30th April, it?s away to Southampton; Saturday 7th May, home to Blues, and last, but not least, on the 14th May, they wind up at Fulham.

Southampton? They don?t have an easy run-in either; this is the condensed version.. There?s that away fixture versus us still to sort out, of course, but this is the interesting bit, Come Saturday the 30th of April, they play host to Norwich, then, the week after that, it?s Crystal Palace, at their place. They also have Man United, The Arse (home, Saturday the 26th of February), Chelski (Saturday the 2nd April, home) and Man United, home (Saturday the 14th of May) to look forward to.

Palace? They have it slightly easier; of the sides looking to overcome the drop, they only have to face Norwich and Saints, but just like their counterparts, they also have to face Champion?s League standard opposition near the end of the season. This then gives them a home fixture v The Canaries Saturday the 16th of April, followed, come Saturday the 7th of May, by the visit of Southampton. Before that though, come Monday the 14th of February, it?s a Highbury trip for them. Presumably, the fixture has been scheduled for then so as to accommodate the voracious appetite of the TV wallahs. Come the merry month of March, it?s, in rapid succession, Man U at Selhurst Park (the 5th), then Chelski away on the 19th. Us Baggie folk? Norwich at their place tomorrow, of course, Saints TBA, also Chelski, then, come the end of April, it?s The Arse, at home, and a week later, we wind up the season?s stuff ?on the road? by going to Old Trafford. Pick the bones out of that little lot. If you can, assuming we?re still in with a shout this time tomorrow.

It seems I ruffled a fair few feathers the other night with my post-Palace steaming-angry resurrection of our fanzine motto ?Semper Te Fallant? (?They Always Let You Down?) as a phrase sufficiently descriptive of our injury time elation, then, a scant minute later, that vertiginous plunge of ours into the depths of despair when Palace equalised. Not sufficiently ?uplifting? or ?positive?, I was told.

I can only repeat what I posted on the list at the time; the diary is mostly about feelings, emotions, genuinely-committed supporters, and their continuing relationship, good, bad, or indifferent, with our favourite football team, its players and manager, and all who sail in it. My subject-matter is human beings, pure and simple, and their various foibles and failings; they, not I, write the script. I'm probably trying to teach granny to suck eggs here, but nothing on this earth will ever convince me that a majority of our supporters left that ground on Tuesday evening totally void of emotion, or as near as damn it indifferent, following that late, late burst of sweet jubilation, trumped, in rapid succession, by its near-relative, deep dejection. I can only tell it like it was, and personally, after the almighty kick in the teeth our favourite football club delivered with a size nine boot come injury time, my mood couldn't have been blacker.

It might be helpful to remember that the motto was first introduced 16 years ago, when the quality of both playing and coaching staff was far inferior to what we have now. Those who were supporters around that time (and, bar 1993, 2002 and 2004, for most seasons ever since) will truly understand. You sure as hell couldn't sue under the Trades Descriptions Act, and I certainly didn't hear of any complaint when people like Alan Buckley or Brian Little had hold of the short straw. The logo recently re-appeared on the front of the Dick for the first time in ages. That publication went to press a couple of days after the Liverpool slaughter; as my other half said, you go with the mood at the time. Look back and remember those four games, Pompey, Charlton, Blues and Liverpool. The mood then was as dark, as sombre, as I've ever known it, and until Palace, and my first repetition of the phrase in this piece for ages, not one reader commented on its return being inappropriate.

The phrase is not necessarily a game-specific one; it alludes to far more than just League position, and size of the crowd. It?s a generic term encompassing much, much more that I frankly find quite disturbing about what?s going on inside the club these days. If all you want to consider is what happens on the field of play, then fine and dandy, but having said all that, our current Premiership record isn?t exactly a distinguished one there, is it? I would imagine there may well be numerous other supporters feeling rather ?let down? right now. We have conversations virtually every game both home and away with different people who are adamant they will not going to renew their season tickets next season, and, as I intimated, not just because of recent events on the field of play, either.

The alternative? Try to please everyone; elevate the prevailing depressive mood by hiring a clown?s outfit and chucking ?positive? and ?uplifting? custard pies at the coppers inside? Spout nonsensical propaganda about how much The Hawthorns is a very happy place to be right now, and everyone there singing from the same hymn-sheet? A nice concept, but I tend to write as I find. Sorry, but it just ain't so. Here?s a thought, though. Maybe someone else better versed in Latin than myself can come up with one more appropriate to our current situation. Don?t look at me; the last time I touched a Latin textbook was back in 1968. The closest I?ve come to a replacement thus far is the one I used the other day ? ?Dum spiro, spero? ? ?While I breathe, I hope?. I reckon it?s all we?ve got going for us right now. Anyone else got any thoughts?

Something else I?ve been following also ? nothing whatsoever to do with us, fortunately ? are the various revelations pouring out of Germany with just about every day that passes. Aw, you know, the ones about some of their referees being on the take, I mean, and the close links the developing scandal has with the betting fraternity. Unsurprisingly, the whistle was blown only when the bookies began to notice abnormal betting-patterns developing in conjunction with a couple of their more important League and Cup crunch games throwing up some surprising results, but what really disturbs me is this. Germany is a pretty law-abiding nation, and wide boys aren?t a big part of their culture. If their FA?s worst fears turn out to be well-founded, and they do discover yet more match officials on the take ? I believe that more than one top-class ref has been questioned about this sort of thing within the last few weeks ? then it doesn?t auger all that well for our own game, does it? Corruption, bribery, sleaze, call it what you will, is a bit like an iceberg; for every small bit showing above the surface, there?s a bloody great lump lurking undiscovered below.

To all intents and purposes, our domestic game is as pure as the driven snow, and lacking any real proof things are as awry as Germany over here, I?m not accusing anyone of anything. One problem, though. Such has been the exponential increase of betting involvement in our game over recent years, much more corporate input, plus the insatiable need for some to win just to keep the financial wolf from the door ? think about the large number of Premiership clubs, very well-placed ones at that, who are effectively running at an almighty loss right now ? and you can readily see potential for trouble. To get prematurely tipped out of major competitions, or the Prem, even, as per Leeds last season, would prove a complete and utter disaster to some; it?s very easy indeed to see how quickly corruption could take hold, were it given sufficiently fertile ground in which to thrive.

Although we seem to have little to reproach ourselves for right now, there?s no room whatsoever for complacency; remember the ?floodlight failure? betting scam uncovered just a few years back? Hilarious, when seen in retrospect, but not so funny for the clubs involved, I?ll warrant. Give this sort of dubious activity an inch, and it will take a bloody country mile. And, via the simple device of removing every last vestige of credibility from the game as it does so, ruining it completely. Remember, it won?t be those wielding the telephone-number betting slips that will suffer, once they?ve stuffed up the game for others, they?ll simply turn to another easily-corruptible sport for their monetary gratification. No, it?ll be you and I, Joe Soap, the average supporter, who loses out. Don?t say I didn?t warn you. .

And finally?.. One. ?GGGRRRrrrrrrrr??? Dearie, dearie me, Guardian, you really must try to do better. For reasons not unconnected with the fact I normally enjoy reading that publication on a daily basis, and finding much of its content both relevant and interesting anyway, it?s not all that often I detect a massive divergence of viewpoint arising between their editors and myself, but after perusing their weekly educational supplement last night, sad to say, I?m just about on the point of saying ?enough is enough?. So, what?s completely and utterly gotten my goat in a way no corporately-influenced rainforest-destroying government report could ever do, then? Simple; when I turned to their Tuesday education supplement ? well, the ?higher education? bit towards the back, actually - and clapped eyes upon their ?pen picture? of academic and social life available on tap at the University Of Central England, all of which was aimed at prospective lecturers there, I was a bit taken back by their somewhat arcane description of certain local amenities not entirely unconnected with watching twenty two blokes knocking a bag of wind about for 90 minutes.

As you might have guessed by now, the problem?s not so much in the detail, as their quite bizarre definition of what constitutes top-notch ?local? football clubs. They start off OK, by making mention of Brum-based duo Blues and Villa ? so far, so accurate ? but they then go on to mention Wulves, some 17 miles distant, in the same sentence! Local? Pardon? Blimey, I?d hate to be doing a geography degree there, I really would. But that?s not the worst, by any means; it?s what?s been left out that really gets me chucking things at the wall. No mention of Premiership Albion, smack-bang on the boundary, mind, and a mere two or three miles from UCE as the dissertation flies, but praise unstinting for a mediocre, not to mention dysfunctional, Championship club miles and miles further up the A41? This will hurt me more than this will hurt you, my lad: five hundred lines, to be handed in by this time tomorrow evening: ?When listing local football clubs, I must not confuse relatively distant Championship stupidity with much nearer Premiership quality???

Two. I wonder why it was that Mister Duberry, of Leeds United, after considering at length an offer from Nottingham Forest for his services, eventually decided the sybaritic delights of Robin Hood Country were not for him after all? Couldn?t have anything to do with the fact that a certain Sean Gregan, formerly of West Bromwich Albion, and now very much an Elland Road lad, gave the lad a certain amount of ? erm ? ?input?, shall we say, into the arcane ways of our former manager, could it?

 - Glynis Wright

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