The Diary

27 August 2005: Bruce Versus Robbo - There Can Only Be One......

?You?re just a small town near Moscow!?..? That?s what our more opulent comrades (the ones who?d taken out a second mortgage to travel to The Smoke and now wished they hadn?t) told their Chelski counterparts last Wednesday night, and very volubly too, I understand, as the tumbrels loudly bore their Black Country cargo to a metaphorical last date with Madame Guillotine. Vive la Republique, Abramovic style? Fine, if you?ve got a million quid or three to spare, I suppose, but out of the question if you just happen to be a Premiership outfit trying your damned hardest not to end up grimly hanging onto the cliff face by your fingernails this time round. OK, so we were without the services of Gera, The Horse, Campbell, Wallwork and ?Winker? Watson that night, and all in the cause of squad rotation ? for that read ?pragmatism?, I guess ? and one solitary soul ploughing a lonely furrow up front before the avalanche hit, but we all knew we were on a non-starter for that one, didn?t we?

Robbo?s seeming policy of damage-limitation certainly went down like a lead balloon with my immediate family. To the complete and utter bemusement of my step-mother, that was the hot topic earnestly debated at our customary Friday get-together tonight. They didn?t like it one little bit ? my family, not my stepmother - and thought we should at least have made a token effort on Wednesday night. Me? I still feel that our first priority has to be grabbing points from realistic sources i.e. from those clubs around us, which is precisely why I?m not going to throw a hissy fit over what happened on Wednesday. I?m still maintaining my previous laid-back approach to our London shenanigans, but now normal service has been resumed, so to speak, I?m also hoping to see at least some return from tomorrow?s game.

Small Heath, bless their little indices of social deprivation, are a perfect case in point regarding what I genuinely see as the way forward. With only a solitary point to show for their labours thus far, they haven?t exactly got off to the brightest of starts this time round, and will be desperately scrambling for those precious three points tomorrow, if only to stem at source some most unpleasant murmuring in the ranks. As I understand it, after their midweek loss versus Boro, on local radio, there were even some calls for Steve Bruce?s head on a plate ? oh, dear! Mind you, at the moment, I?m seeing tomorrow?s game as a bit of a break from research activities; once more, I haunted Smethwick Library archives for several hours today. Delving into the grubby innards of the ?Midland Chronicle?, I was, or more precisely, their 1920 microfiche archive. Oh, and I haven?t entirely escaped the clutches of the Reading Room; come the finish of tomorrow?s game, we?ll be doing it all over again!

The Albion stuff apart, reading those long forgotten editions, and their accompanying pictures of civic dignitaries long-since turned to dust, was a fascinating experience. People probably wouldn?t appreciate it in this day and age, but even some 18 months down the line from the 1918 Armistice, dark shadows of that awful conflict still hung over the entire borough. The tragic waste of life, for one thing. One proud Smethwick tailor even advertised ?demob suits? of various styles for sale, and very cheap they were, too. There were also reports concerning fund-raising efforts of varying kinds for the war memorials we now see on our everyday travels about the town. Unfortunately, unlike the situation prevailing at the end of the second conflict, there was no well thought-out demobilisation mechanism in operation back then, no concept of ?first in, last out?; even as late as 1920, the men were still returning from places that had been bloody war zones two years previously. Unsurprisingly, this caused much resentment among the troops, a situation greatly exacerbated by a distinct lack of jobs for those who did return.

So bad was the employment situation, and the resultant deprivation in the town, the main business occupying what were then called ?police courts? was the sentencing of people caught stealing coal, either from the railway, or the mines. That, and what appeared to be a local purge on kids playing football in the streets ? it was most certainly a criminal offence, then, much to my surprise - and the youthful ?offenders? usually fined about ten bob (around ?20 in modern terms). A paltry sum, one might think, but when you realise that the money had to come from some parent or other?s pocket, the average working-class income then was lucky to reach seven quid a week, families were much bigger than today?s, and what had been the main breadwinner possibly pushing up the daisies in some French cemetery or other, or still receiving treatment for long-term injuries sustained in the conflict, and because of that, not in employment, then you gradually begin to realise that despite all those wonderful political promises of just a year previously, West Bromwich was most certainly not ?a home fit for heroes?. Oh, and payment by instalments, or ?time to pay? was not an automatic dispensation given from the bench by any means. No wonder a substantial proportion of the town?s menfolk looked to football as their sole means of escape from endless drudgery; winning the First Division Title, as we did that one glorious season only, must have provided a tremendous psychological fillip to the town?s populace; well, that, and alcohol, I reckon. Arrests for drunkenness were, if anything, far higher than the numbers seen today.

Tomorrow?s game? Well, it?s certainly going to be a bit rough and ready; should you desire a wonderful ?football experience? instead, then all I can suggest is you join the Abramovic persuasion ?dahn the Bridge, me old china?, and not darken our turnstiles ever again. Our gaffer?s ?horses (no pun intended, honest) for courses? policy continues apace, it would seem; tomorrow will no doubt see the return of several prodigals missing from Wednesday?s line-up to the first-team fold. Mister Horsfield will no doubt figure heavily in Robbo?s master-plan for the destruction of Blues; for whatever reason, he seems to reserve a considerable proportion of his energies for games at our place. Just ask Pompey, both the end of last season, and the start of this! More importantly, I?m anticipating that our rearguard won?t dare repeat their Stamford Bridge double-act of generosity tomorrow. Yep, that means YOU, Mister Gaardsoe, and YOU, Mister Robinson! We haven?t quite reached the festive season, chaps - not just yet.

It does appear that whatever happens, we?re not going to see Clinton Morrison take to the field of play wearing a Blues shirt, or threaten our goal, come to think about it; this week saw him turn into a pumpkin, or something, and go to Crystal Palace instead. After no less than three years with the Bluenoses, parting must be such sweet sorrow for the Irish lad. Emile Heskey will be scrapping it out with Mikael Forssell for a start, and Walter Pandiani is also in contention after recovering from a hip injury. Naughty midfielder Damien Johnson might also get a run out after completing a four-match ban that was, for him, an unwelcome leftover from the end of last term.

That?s the players, then, but what about their supporters? Well, at least one bloke I know won?t be adding to The Hawthorns pollution problem tomorrow, and that?s my old adversary The Bluenose Butcher. When I saw him in his shop about two days ago, he was looking forward to a golfing holiday in Scotland this weekend, not urging his side on in the Smethwick. I can only assume that latent BSE is far more common among the general population than previously thought. Or is it just Blues supporters that demonstrate susceptibility to this awful malady? Well, such a theory would certainly explain his willingness to wave his chopper about with gay abandon every time I enter his den of meaty iniquity!

Right, then ? that?s me finished for the night. Hopefully, I?ll be posting again in 24 hours time, but waxing lyrical indeed this time on our acquisition of another three points at the expense of our local rivals. Either that, or I?ve been on the old magic mushrooms again, in a futile attempt to blot out what?s happened!

And Finally?.. One. The fortunes of another far-flung Baggie, now ? Dave Baxendale, for it is he ? and, following the Pompey game, he was not a happy bunny. What upset him so badly? Our own stewards, before Saturday?s game, that?s who. This is what happened. As per usual, Dave and his son arrived in the ground at about two that afternoon. One inside, the stewards then asked to look in their carrier bag. No problem with that, especially given the fragile state of the current security climate, but what actually happened was that the steward then asked them to take the tops off their plastic drink bottles. Dave queried this and asked to see a supervisor., who told him the bottles could be used as a missile. Dave reasoned that so could many other things; a vacuum flask for example, which hadn?t been declared verboten.

Not unnaturally, Dave was a bit annoyed by this bit of dodgy logic; what does more damage? A plastic bottle, or a metal flask? As he was told the decision had ?come from the top? he was now eager to ask Jeremy Peace to explain why he could no longer bring into the Hawthorns a drink in a plastic bottle with a top on? Dave reckons that prior to the incident, he was most certainly unaware of this rule; nothing on the internet, in the newspapers, or even on the club?s new security message inside the stadium. He was also told that the restriction is bog-standard at all the Premiership grounds. Strange, that, said Dave, as when he and his sprog went into Manchester City last week, there wasn?t a problem. Dave also pointed out that he was a 47 year-old diabetic and needed a glucose-based drink at half time to prevent the onset of hypoglycaemia, commonly knows as a ?hypo? in layman?s terms. Think ?hangover? but with symptoms writ very large indeed, and that?s what it feels like. And, for obvious reasons, dead dangerous for the diabetic concerned.

Questions to the Assistant Chief Steward in the Brummie were variously met with "No exceptions", "I'll have you taken out", and "Go and complain then", Such was the treatment he got, Dave said if this wasn't the first match of the season and the fact that he was a season ticket holder, he wouldn?t be attending future matches, and probably won?t anyway after this season. Dave does a round trip of around 200 miles for each home game, and any bit of saving helps. Because of the crowds, he was unable to purchase a glucose-rich drink inside the stadium at half time, so went without for well over three hours; not ideal if you need to balance the sugar-destroying effects of an insulin injection previously-administered in the full expectation of having such a drink at the correct time.

There was a reply from the club (see below) mostly concerning the laws governing the issuance of plastic drinks bottles without tops, but I reckon you?ll find the real reason for the bottle-top ban snugly nestling amidst the second paragraph. ?The issue of bottles, plastic or otherwise, being allowed inside football grounds is a vexed one and practices vary from club to club. What does not change however, is the fact that legislation prohibits entry into the grounds with bottles for every club and, in our case, signs to that effect are clearly displayed around the entire stadium. It is only since my arrival at the Club (season 203/04) that our caterers have been allowed to sell plastic bottle to supporters but under the condition that the tops are removed. Again, that is common practice across the country, and came about as a result of bottles have been thrown at officials and rival supporters.?

Now for the bit I mentioned; ?Technically, no one should be allowed to bring food or drink into the stadium, simply because that militates against a commercial enterprise, our caterers, from selling only their goods but it accepted that is does occur and it usually only comes to light, on occasions when circumstances similar to your own are encountered. I would say that there are exceptions to that rule, and being a diabetic bringing their own prepared drink into the stadium would be one of the occasions I would cite. I can inform you that I will speak to the stewards who dealt with the issue at the next home game, and bring to their attention the points you have raised.? A one-one draw for our diabetic chum, then? I reckon so. Oh, and Dave ? there are ways around the problem, but not the sort the club would approve of. Just ask me the next time we meet, OK?

 - Glynis Wright

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