The Diary

12 April 2005: Seal Park Glory - The Aftermath

Recovered from yesterday?s not-so-amateur dramatics, yet? Certainly, those tumultuous away-end scenes I witnessed once Robinson?s effort hit the back of the net will be engraved in my memory for a bloody long time indeed. My goodness, the looks on the faces of some of our ?regulars? as we made to leave the ground would have frightened to death most kids at twenty paces. Take Supporters? Club MC and main man John Homer ? it isn?t all that often you see a normally mild-mannered civil servant reduced to a snarling, growling, fist-shaking ball of swiftly-soaring testosterone levels, is it?

Mind you, a fair proportion of that was simply due to the fact that just like me, he has a pathological hatred of all things claret and blue. And, just like me, really loves to see us put one over them for a change. Well done, Houlty, for that incredible performance yesterday, keeping ?them? out with all those top-notch saves, one in particular courtesy pure reflex. In fact, well done everyone, for sticking the course to the end, and never, NEVER chucking in their hand. We?re proud of the lot of you. My only worry out there was Albrechtson, whose overall performance seemed somewhat low par compared to his normal high standards. A bad day at the office, perhaps? I had to chuckle today, though, when checking out my inbox. It turned out some Albionites, quite a few of ?em in fact, were seated deep in Seal territory. How the hell they all managed to contain themselves when ?yer man? stuck in that magnificent injury-time strike, I?ll never really know. Or did they? And, if they didn?t, to what hospital ward should I arrange to deliver the fruit and flowers?

It?s becoming quite a habit of ours, this ? a late, late strike proving absolutely crucial in deciding our short and medium-term future. As regular Dick correspondent Steve Sant pointed out today, isn?t it amazing how much of our comparatively recent good fortune ? Bradford, 2001-02, Sunderland 2004-05, now Villa - has turned upon the lads doing precisely that, at the right time? Yesterday?s injury-time rescue from the dead would have been remarkable enough in its own right, but what makes this entire episode even more important is what happened at Goodison Park around the time us jubilant but weary Baggies were trying to make our way back home again. Palace got a four-nil drubbing there, and that final score meant, at long last, we escaped the crippling gravitational pull of the bottom three, and for the first time since Christmas, as well.

A small matter as far as those who compile and update the Premiership tables are concerned, but to both our beleaguered team and its supporters, what happened yesterday came very close indeed to the classical definition of the word ?miracle?. Yes, we?ve had proof positive enough we can get out of this, we CAN do it. The lads have made it possible out there; what?s left now for us is a massive injection of hope. And a double-dose of honest BELIEF. The lads clearly do, despite the best efforts of those who sneered at the very possibility just a few months back ? and I?m not denying I was one of those who emitted a series of hollow laughs every time someone at the club opined we were capable of getting out of it. I?ve since been proved dead wrong on this, and so a have a good many more, I?ll wager. What?s happened really is a fairy tale for our time; as I said the other day, were such events taking place within the framework of Transatlantic sport, then the likes of Steven Spielberg would have beaten a path to our door for the film rights a long time ago.

The whole thing?s very much like someone suffering from a chronic crippling, debilitating injury finally mustering up enough confidence to try walking again. You take steps, little ?uns, at first, decidedly wobbly ones, too, and such is the nature of the beast, it?s natural that sometimes, you end up taking a bit of a tumble. And it really hurts; not just you, mind; those who love you suffer by proxy, also. But you persevere, get up again, have another go, and another; such temporary setbacks finally behind you, gradually, over a period of weeks, those awkward and hesitant little shuffles become proud and lengthy strides once more. No longer do you need artificial assistance in staying upright, those crutches can go straight in the bin, and everyone who knows and loves you can breathe all the more easily again.

And that little simile encapsulates perfectly the current state of our favourite football club. We might not be at the point where we can take to our Premiership feet loud and proud, just yet, but what with Sunday?s results and everything, it?s plain to see we?re gradually getting there. The basic target remains the same, though; win two, or three, just to be on the same side, before the last day calls ?time? on Season 2004-05, and we should be OK. We?re not completely out of the woods, though. There?s still the small matter of two more away games to play before we return to Planet Hawthorns once more, and that one?s versus The Arse, so little chance of us really giving the attendant journos some interesting copy to file there, it would seem.

That?s the ?glass half-empty? outlook, then, but even assuming worst case scenario ? we dip versus Tottingham and Boro, both of whom are currently chasing their own version of The Great European Dream, so not much help likely there ? I?d be ideally looking for home wins versus Blackburn, who now seem relatively safe, and our last-day Hawthorns curtain-call versus Pompey, who also look more secure, but could still very easily get dragged straight back into it. Even then, the possibility of an Albion victory sending down their South Coast rivals might well prove a distinctly-juicy proposition for them. We have also a May the 7th date at Old Trafford, but I?m not entirely sure which way that one could go. That was why I was so annoyed with what The Mancs did at Norwich on Saturday, fielding what amounted to a reserve side there, and literally giving them three points on a solid-silver plate. Should Robbo?s former club still be chasing something by the time we get to play them at their place, you can bet anything you care to name they won?t do us any similar favours.

We now enjoy a ten-day break from the multifarious woes brought on by daily life in this infuriating league, but there?s still a fair amount of unfinished Albion business out there still needing our attention. The hearing that determines whether or not Jonathan Greening?s Sunday red card will be rescinded or not takes place within the next couple of days or so, for starters. What a complete and utter nonsense the whole incident, and referee Rob Styles?s unbelievably stupid knee-jerk reaction to it, turned out to be. To my mind, what happened was proof positive the guy simply uses dismissals as a cheap way of courting controversy ? a ?notice me, aren?t I good?? sort of thing.

It really is high time he ?gets real?. If the guy wants to see a real-time demonstration of head-butts as they are truly meant to be applied, i.e. in full ?Glasgow Kiss? mode, then I would seriously suggest he either visits a notorious local drinking den late at night, or asks to be incarcerated in one of Her Majesty?s Prisons for a day or three (or, even better from our point of view, gets (begs?) someone in charge to throw away the bloody key!) Such injuries, when inflicted by ?experts?, usually result in copious amounts of blood and snot flying around the place, then hospitalisations, and subsequent plastic surgery to the sorely-ravaged snitches of the parties concerned. Anyone well-versed in that ancient Glaswegian face-disfiguring art would have simply watched yesterday?s proceedings intently, then died laughing on the spot.

What happened between Greening and Villa?s Ridgewell really was a powder-puff affair by comparison. Even my four cats have exchanged greetings in similar fashion, and with about the same end result. The only problem is, when the powers that be get to look at the video, they?ll only take aboard the salient fact they both exchanged bodily contact, albeit stuff of the ?handbags at ten paces? variety. But that wouldn?t take into account the simple truth that it was the Villa bloke who made the initial hostile moves. Both of ?em squared up to each other only after Ridgewell advanced upon our lad in threatening manner, then proceeded to stick his nut about six inches or less away from Greening?s own highly-hirsute mush. Human nature being what it is, I?d defy anyone placed in a similar position not to feel sufficiently threatened to the point where they could reasonably assume stout defensive measures might be called for within a matter of seconds.

As I said last night, in times of yore, most referees would have thought about it a bit, then told the pair of them to ?grow up, and get on with the bloody game? ? and that would have been that. The trouble is, these days, asking for a display of common sense from the FA is about as feasible a proposition as George Bush suddenly asking for restraint from both sets of combatants in Iraq. We therefore have to assume that Greening will have to serve a suspension, either the three-game ?full monty? (for violent conduct), or (hopefully) a reduced term. As for hoping Rob Styles will suddenly see events in a quite different light, and rescind the blasted thing, yeah ? and there are fairies living at the bottom of my garden. Honest.

Logically, then, will Greening?s enforced absence from the side prove to be a major hindrance to our chances of hanging on in there? Depends how we go about reshuffling things, I suppose. We do have a couple of options at our fingertips, though ? for starters, Kieran Richardson could go wide, and Robbo could then shove either Scimeca or Baggies new-bug Chaplow into the empty socket instead. Having said that though, because of his relative inexperience at our level, chucking the former Burnley favourite in at the relegation deep-end might be a bit too much for the lad to cope with at his present stage of development. I guess only Robbo himself knows whether he feels sufficiently confident of the lad?s ability to allow Chaplow his moment of glory.

Off to Forest Green tomorrow night ? poor hubby; not only are his nerves being frazzled by what?s happening to us at Premiership level, he?s also trying to come to terms with Hereford United?s renewed bid for promotion to the League via the play-offs! - but back to the literary grindstone either Wednesday or Thursday night, by which time we?ll know a little bit more about Jonathan Greening?s fate. After that, I?ll be down our holiday home until the day before the Spurs game, due to take place next Wednesday evening. Don?t worry, though; I?ll be back in sufficient time to sort out a suitably-inspiring piece for the benefit of our escaping troops. Just remember, though ? under the provisions of the Geneva Convention, you?re only required to supply the enemy with details of your full name, current rank, and Hawthorns season-ticket number!

And finally... Blimey, what a small world it is. Today, via our webmaster, we heard of the doings of an Aussie chum we?ve known for yonks. Mark Brown is his name, and what a tale he had to tell. Besides being something of a human whirlwind ? I defy anyone to remain in his company for more than an hour before finally succumbing to the ravages of nervous exhaustion ? and us losing track of his movements (we think he?s now in Tasmania), being a rabid Baggie also, his nervous system always elicits something of an automatic ?knee-jerk? reaction whenever he spots a club badge/shirt in that sunny country. And that?s what happened last night; a guy walked into the gym he uses wearing a tracksuit top with the Holy Relic proudly displayed on its breast, so naturally, Browny had to find out more.

Turned out that not only was he a Baggie of sorts, he used to be one of our players, a keeper, only leaving the club a couple of months ago! So who is this letter-day Antipodean Hawthorns refugee, then? None other than Simon Miotto, who, until recently, turned out between the sticks for our reserve side, and also happens to possess an uncannily-similar personality to that of our manic chum! One in a room I can cope with at any one time ? but TWO?

Two... Oh dear - some things never change, do they? In today?s Mirror, our old chum Mister Megson launched a blistering attack on the Forest mole he reckons conspired to push his side towards relegation. (As if Forest needs any such help to do so right now, but that?s football for you!)

According to the piece, Megson allegedly discovered one of his own players had been leaking vital information on the team and formation to a chum, or chums, who then placed the details on the internet for all the world to see. Definitely a Captain Queeg-type attitude to take; Forest's team to play Plymouth was in the public domain on Friday night, and, as far as I?m concerned, only provides further incontrovertible proof the lunatic really has taken over the asylum at the City Ground. The story also quotes our former leader as saying: ?In my ten years in management, I've had to tackle things here I've never had to contend with before!? Blimey, with such staggering memory-loss sustained over such a short space of time, I?d be seeing my doctor about the possibility of having contracted a long-term degenerative brain condition, I would!

 - Glynis Wright

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