The Diary

04 May 2005: Requiem For The Premiership, Requiem for GD

Back to complete tonight?s offering after all the thrills and spills of tonight?s Champion?s League semi encounter starring Liverpool and Chelski ? and what a tremendous game that was. Unmissable, nail-biting, even, right from the start, and even if you were, like me, a neutral, you could empathise quite easily with what supporters of both sides were going through, especially Liverpool?s, when the referee inexplicably stuck on a six-minute long tailpiece to the entire occasion. Well done, the Scouse persuasion, for grabbing that early goal, then hanging on to the lead like grim death, and well done their supporters, who demonstrated many times over during the course of the game what the Kop of old used to be about; loud, proud, and knife-sharp witty with it. A big ?boo? to ITV for showing the Kop at full throttle just before the kick-off, singing You?ll Never Walk Alone with a massed outpouring of pure emotion I haven?t seen or heard from them in many a year ? then, just as the red and white clad hordes were gearing up for their spine-tingling ?finale?, cutting to the bloody adverts instead! Speaks volumes about the media, and the funny ideas some of them have about the beautiful game, sometimes, that does.

It being approximately 24 hours since we had our collective hearts broken so effectively at The Shrine, I guess that the bulk of all that sadness we experienced come the final whistle has now had sufficient time to dissipate, if only to a far more tolerable level. A shame that defeat means we now look bound to descend, especially when you think of all the hard work that?s been put in by our players over the course of recent months so as to confound the worst predictions of the so-called ?experts?; if I were a player, I?d be absolutely gutted, too.

However, those who gave their all last night should have little cause to reproach themselves; the positive, heartwarming reaction of the vast majority of our supporters as the lads trudged wearily off the park should have more than reassured our players on that score. My own small gripe? The fact we left it so late to shove on the ?main armament? i.e. Kanu, The Horse and young Earnie, but having said that, it has to be remembered we were up against what is arguably one of the best club sides in Europe, and not the local boozer?s Sunday morning team. With such a stellar team-sheet featuring in last night?s programme, it?s no real disgrace to dip out against a side like that.

Sadly, because of what happened last night, it?s now looking more likely than ever that our relegation will be confirmed at Old Trafford on Saturday; everything will hang upon what happens at Palace v Southampton, and Norwich v Blues, just before our own game kicks off. A rotten way for Robbo to mark his managerial return to his former alma mater, sure, but that?s football for you ? as the now-hackneyed chant goes, there?s innumerable times when it really does seem it?s ?having a larf? ? and this has to be one of them. Looking at the current situation from the viewpoint of a ?glass half-full?, at least we?ll go into that game knowing what, if anything, we can do to avert the drop, if only temporarily ? and from then in, it?s all down to how well we can keep out those predatory Mancs. And, in all honesty, if United are feeling really mean, that could well prove an impossible task.

Having said that, I do take some heart from the exemplary way in which we we managed to keep out the Arse for the greater part of last night?s game; there were times when I saw Wenger, on the touchline, looking very far from calm and collected. Our spirited attempt to frustrate them must have come as a bit of a shock to their delicate systems ? relegation candidates aren?t supposed to deviate from the script in such an unorthodox manner, are they? Had a total stranger to British football been asked to provide an opinion on last night?s doings, I?m willing to bet they?d have had great difficulty discerning who were the runners-up elect, and who were headed for the drop. Was it sheer exhaustion that proved to be our eventual Nemesis, or was it that fact that, however briefly, we lost defensive concentration, and by doing that, let Van Wotsit in for their first? With sides like The Arse, doing that is tantamount to providing them with football?s equivalent of a suicide note.

We can also take heart from the sheer honesty of our current performers over recent weeks. Paul Robinson, last night?s never-say-die hero in my book, has truly blossomed over the course of this current season. Had anyone sought my considered opinion pre-season of who would be most likely to shine for the club this time round then ?Robbo? would not have even figured at the top of my personal list. Just shows how badly you can get it wrong, sometimes. And, a few defensive clangers aside, who would have thought that Clem would show himself to be as totally acclimatised to the Prem as he currently is? Jonathan Greening, suspension notwithstanding, has also proven to be an unlikely source of playing pleasure for the faithful this season; to that list, you can also add Tommy Gaardsoe, who despite the odd lapse, is fast becoming a genuine Premiership defender.

Robbo, possibly, apart, these are all players we should stand a reasonable chance of keeping should the axe descend in two weeks time. Along with new-boy Chaplow, they will be needed to form the nucleus of a nascent promotion outfit. As for some of the players I haven?t mentioned ? the likes of Gera, Earnie (who isn?t quite the finished product, in my book, so whoever takes him on would still have some work to do, I reckon), Kanu (who will be on his bike ere the last ball of season 04-05 is kicked, of course), Campbell (whose ageing legs may not be quite up to the stresses and strains of next year?s campaign), Houlty, still battling chronic back problems, it seems ? some or all of these might well be taking their services elsewhere come July. Kieran Richardson? Much as I?d like to see us retain his services, unless we do defy gravity by some miracle or other, I can only assume that come the final whistle versus Pompey, he?ll be dragging his carcass straight back to the stellar assembly-line that is Fergie?s Manchester United. A shame, that, as I would have liked to have seen how his development panned out.

Mind you, players can only do their utmost out there and hope for the best, but their onerous task can be lightened significantly by the presence of an effective vocal support. Tonight?s Anfield Champions? League thriller provided irrefutable proof of that; the Kop?s splendid efforts on that score really made the place buzz, and by doing so, they played a not-insignificant role in their eventual semi-final triumph. Kop-ites of old, and the late Bill Shankly, of course, would have listened intently, and understood much. And, at a much more mundane level, the same could be said about our marvellous support last night. I?ve said it many, many times before, but now seems an ideal opportunity to give vent to the thought once more ? no Albion supporter worth their salt will ever undeservedly criticise a side that goes out onto that pitch and genuinely gives it all they?ve got. Last night, the sheer amount of noise I heard welling from all four corners of the ground in response to what was happening out there was something not seen at The Hawthorns in a long, long time, and I, too, was proud to be part of it.

Whatever the outcome, even the most churlish of supporters can?t deny that this Premiership incarnation has ended upon a far more positive and optimistic note than our previous one. A fair bit of that has to be down to our autumnal change of manager, of course ? I?d be extremely surprised if anyone would now seriously challenge my assertion that had we carried on the way we were, we?d have exited this league in a far more demoralising way than we?re likely to this time round. At least we?re going down with all guns blazing, dignity intact, a pleasing state of affairs that has to be a hundred times better than abject surrender, any day.

As you?ll recall, months ago, I greeted the news of Robbo?s appointment with pure horror ? an arguable failure at Boro, and latterly, at Bradford; what the hell could he teach our lot about the game? ? but I?m happy to report, now, that I was subsequently proven dead wrong. A few early tactical howlers apart, the bloke has since demonstrated admirably he knows his onions, concerning the game and how it?s played, and also in another aspect of the football business, one sorely neglected, at times ? and that?s good, effective, man-management. A much more positive (and welcome) aspect of his managerial reign, that ? his constant insistence upon emphasising the good things about a player?s performance, no matter how bad the performance, while keeping any negative thoughts very much to himself. Just reading his thoughts in the local press about last night?s game, and those who played in it, proved that beyond all reasonable doubt as far as I was concerned.

Quite a stark contrast to our former leader?s modus operandi, that ? and one that?s reaped much greater rewards, in my opinion. Players, especially the good ones, have brittle egos, even at the best of times ? so why embark upon what amounts to a virtual campaign of destruction with constant managerial post-match low-level carping and sniping at their efforts? Whatever the next couple of weeks may hold for the future of this club, at least we can be sure that with Robbo at the helm, we should stand a bloody good chance of regaining our place in the sun at the first time of asking.

And, what?s even more important, in my book, the sure-fire knowledge that the road back to the big-time will be one paved with a heavy emphasis on all that?s good about the game. No more dismal and depressing packing of midfields and/or defences in depth, completely killing off whatever microscopic scraps of entertainment still there to be gleaned from the encounter. No more sterile one-nil wins, no more clogging-contests (unless the opposition choose to play it that way, of course ? and some inevitably will).

No more sitting on a precarious one-nil lead, either. Attack is always the best form of defence, and our leader knows it, thank heavens. And he also knows that to properly get the best out of what you?ve got, you have to treat players like the grown men, the fully-consenting adults, that they are. It?s a crying shame that the former incumbent never quite got his head around that particular concept, wasn?t it? Should the worst happen, providing Robbo stays the managerial course ? after all, everyone?s got their price, and we aren?t all that opulent a club - I?m firmly convinced our current grief will only be a short-term phenomenon. Look out, Championship ? we?re comin? to get ya!

As you will have read already, our current last GD of the season will also be our last one ever. No more Dicks next term, sorry ? unless anyone with the necessary enthusiasm and drive is willing to shoulder up the burden, give up a not-inconsiderable proportion of their spare time, drive themselves dotty by staying up into the wee small hours in a frantic effort to meet deadlines, yell themselves well-nigh hoarse outside away grounds trying to flog the things ? and, sometimes, meet with verbal hostility from those who decide to disagree with the opinions expressed within its covers, not to mention what amount to ?hate? campaigns orchestrated by some in the local media whenever a dissenting opinion of a manager?s ability is expressed in print. If you?re reading this, and feel masochistic enough to try and give it a go, we?ll gladly offer all the help and support you need ? but it will most certainly be your show, not ours.

So, why have we decided to call it a day, then? Well, what I?ve said in the previous paragraph will provide a fair number of reasons. Couple all that with rapidly-falling sales, a declining number of people willing to contribute, the current editors wanting to ?get a life? again ? none of us are below the age of forty, and it really is about time youth gave it a go ? all that, plus a growing sense that fanzines have had their day throughout the country (lots, famous names, some of them, and full-time also, now routinely report problems not dissimilar to those mentioned above), and it then becomes abundantly clear why we?ve had to knock it on the head.

We still like to feel that over the 16 or so years we?ve been in existence, we?ve made a difference ? the times we were heavily involved in the Astle Gates project, plus the current Dovedale Day Care Centre appeal, and were (sometimes) consulted by the club about matters that might have affected supporters ? so, although the fanzine will be no more, there are some tangible legacies of our input to be seen, should you be sufficiently arsed to look. And, unless told otherwise, The Fart will still be batting for the side with the supporters? liaison committee he?s currently involved in. I?d also contend that the fanzine movement as a whole has brought a much-needed breath of fresh air into the way the game is written about by the press, both tabloid and broadsheet. You only have to look at stuff like the Mirror?s ?Three PM Boys? or The Sun?s equivalent, to detect a heavy fanzine-influence behind all the naughty prose and scurrilous rumour. So, there you have it. GD is no more, but that?s not the end of my column ? unless our webmaster decides otherwise, of course!

And finally?..One. Unforgivable, I know, but this was an article we accidentally overlooked when preparing our last-ever Dick. The author, a chap called Julian Rowe, was quite right to point out the omission and the tale is deserving of a much larger audience, so, in its full glory, and accompanied by profuse apologies to the gentleman in question from me, is ?The One That Nearly Got Away?. The game he mentions I remember well, as I, too, made the much shorter journey from Keele, where I was a student, to The Shrine ? and was equally-mortified to find the same bloody blackboard giving out the same bloody message once I?d got there! So, without further ado, take it away, Julian!

Saturday 28th February 1976 dawned as a clear crisp sunny day with a nip in the air. A typical pre-global warming football Saturday and the Albion were at home to Bristol City in a crucial 4-pointer top of the table Div 2 clash. 11 days earlier I had hitch-hiked to the Dell for a midweek FA Cup 5th round replay to see Albion lose 4-0, leaving Johnny Giles's side free to concentrate on securing one of the 3 promotion places. Our promotion push had started the previous October with an unlikely 2-0 win at Ashton Gate and Albion needed a repeat win against Alan Dicks's high flying Bristol City who were one of the favourites to go up.

My brother, who was living in Bristol, drove down to Dorset on Saturday morning to pick me up and then did a rapid about turn to drive up from Thomas Hardy country to the Black Country in a race against the clock to get to the Hawthorns for kick-off. He drove like the wind and at 10 to 3 we exited Junction 1. As we drove up the Birmingham Road in perfect spring sunshine, there was no traffic, and no fans to be seen. Where was everyone, had they all got in the ground early? Then we saw the blackboard in the middle of the road at the junction with Halfords Lane with the fateful words written in white chalk "Game off - Bristol City flu." We had embarked on a 350 mile round trip blissfully unaware the game had been called off during the morning because the Bristol City squad had been decimated by an outbreak of flu. In our car were 2 mates who weren't interested in football, but had come along anyway. They didn't help our mood by bursting into laughter. When the game was re-arranged a few weeks later, Bristol City won 1-0, but we had learnt our lesson and stayed at home.

Two. Hughsie? According to the E and S tonight, a recent prison Muslim convert? I really don?t think so ? the genuine adoption of the Islamic faith demands that the initiate takes on board, and fully comprehends, a good many abstract concepts ? aw, you know, stuff about faith, belief, the life and teachings of the Prophet Mohammed, close study of the Koran, fasting come Ramadan, that sort of thing ? and somehow, inside or not, I find it hard to believe that?s Hughsie?s sort of bag.

 - Glynis Wright

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