The Diary

01 September 2005: Deadline, Midnight - And We Gain A Hatter.

O ye of little faith?.. There was I yesterday, hovering expectantly around our TV screen, and hoping like hell Robbo would come up trumps in the last-minute market before the window finally slammed shut until after the festive season ? only to find absolute rock-all in the defender department, our current weakness. Then, after we?d been over The Fart?s place to try and minister unto his ailing printer (result: it?s much more poorly than we?d originally thought, and now needs a much bigger hammer to sort it out - see below) and pick up some of his fifties press cuttings (ooer!) we scanned Ceefax again. Lots about others likely to be in the relegation mixer come the end of the current season chucking their ackers around like three-badge-stokers on a much-needed spot of shore-leave ? Wigan, West Ham, Pompey - but sod-all about us, so, not surprisingly, we took that as read we weren?t going to break into the old biscuit-tin this time round. Well, not until midwinter, at any rate.

And that sort of attitude just goes to show how flaming wrong you can be. After spending some time reading one of the glossies I had left over from Sunday, plus that day?s Guardian ?extra bits?, I went to retire to my pit, checked our emails first, as is my wont ? and discovered, much to my delight, we had decided to splash the cash after all. At around five to twelve the deal was sealed, and the lad registered as a Baggie. His name is Curtis Davies, he?s from Luton Town, age 20, he?s a defender, and it cost us around 3 million to secure his services. A club record for a defender, apparently, and he?ll be given the number 19 shirt for his trouble. All this sudden pecuniary promiscuity from a football club previously notable only for its tightwad attitude towards such matters must be the heat finally getting to everybody at Planet Albion. Or something!

What with ?Duke? Ellington, Darren Carter, Diomansy Kamara, Steve Watson and on-loan Chris Kirkland joining the club earlier still, that little lot takes our summer spending to around ?9million. Blimey, all that mass-flash of cash in recent months must have really brought the boardroom moths out of their hidey-holes. So, what do we know about our lad, then? Well, he?s home grown: after starting with the Hatters as a 16-year-old, he was given a scholarship at Kenilworth Road before breaking into the first team at the tender age of 18. He then went on to make 62 appearances for Luton, scoring two goals, and proved a key figure in their League One title side last term. Not only that, in what was his first full season in professional football, the lad won the Powerade Player-of-the-Season award for League One, and was also selected in the PFA League One Team of the Year.

In what proved to be his final game for The Hatters last Monday, he knocked in a late winner - only his second career goal, apparently - in a 2-1 victory over Millwall to put Luton third in the Championship heap. My goodness, they must have had a nosebleed of Biblical proportions as a result. Oh ? and another thing. Well, two things actually. Firstly, when we were making the journey from Tamworth to Laraine?s place following Hereford?s win, we (or rather ?Im Indoors did: I must confess I wasn?t paying all that much attention at the time) heard on our radio, an interview with the lad post-match, during the course of which he was asked whether he intended or not to stay at Kenilworth Road, to which Curtis gave the reply (or words to that effect):?I?m not going anywhere!? The second? His nickname, when at Luton, was ?Big Dave?! Confused? You will be! Perhaps we should prevent possible future fan confusion and differentiate between the two by assigning the newcomer the monicker ?Little Dave?, ?Number Two Dave?, or ?Young Dave?, even!

To be scrupulously fair about his reply during that interview, he may well have been telling the truth. At the time, I would imagine Albion still had several irons in the fire, with The Youthful Hatter well down the listings, but as the transfer deadline drew nearer and nearer, and we still weren?t able to entice a more seasoned performer to The Black Country, we decided to go for potential and youth instead, rather than ability already there. That?s what we?ve done in the case of lads like the aforementioned Chaplow, Ellington, Earnie, and Carter; rather than reap dividends at present, it?s a policy designed to hit pay-dirt some time in the future. When you stop and think about it, what our gaffer is trying to do is eminently sensible. Let?s just hope we?ve got enough experience already in the locker to see us through until such new-blood is deemed suitable meat for the Premiership grinder.

More about The Fart?s ?dead? printer. As I mentioned above, The Fart?s errant bit of kit had been doing some mighty peculiar things. So peculiar, we decided to call round last night, and make an attempt to fix the wretched thing ourselves, without success. Clearly, our best wasn?t good enough, so we then brought it home with us, with a view towards taking it into the computer shop on the end of our street for repair today. And that?s where I came in: thinking to myself around midday, ?well, I?ll only have to carry it a few yards, then it?ll be literally out of my hands, and that can?t do my back much harm, surely?? I picked up the offending object, lugged it uncomfortably through our front door ? and that?s when I first realised it was much heavier than I?d first thought! ? then the few yards to my destination. On arrival, out came the chappie running the place ? unshaven, sour demeanour, looked positively villainous to me ? and clapping eyes on the errant bit of kit, then hearing my request for him to fix it, told me: ?Oh, we don?t bother with printers these days ? more trouble than they?re bleedin? worth, them?.? Exit this column, muttering darkly! Sorry, Mister Fart, but it looks as though your printer is going to be in dry dock for much longer than we?d originally thought!

This is genuinely my last posting before we head for them thar hills tomorrow. Back a week tomorrow, when I?ll be running the rule over next day?s opponents, Wigan, and also giving an account of the footie we?ve seen down in cider country. And not just The Bulls: there are also several excellent lower-league sides in the area, most of whom seem to ply their trade in the West Midlands League. One such fixture we?ve noted is Kington versus Tividale, and, at the time of writing, I reckon that?s the one we?ll most likely be patronising during the week. So, until next Friday, then, tara.

And Finally?.. What do you do when you suddenly discover you own a dopey cat that?s totally without warning turned into a cold, calculating assassin? I?m referring to my tabby tomcat, Tigger, who, at the ripe old age of ten, has suddenly discovered the joys of stalking, then catching poor unsuspecting rodents, bringing them back to Chez Wright, chucking them up in the air for an hour or two, then finally applying the coup de grace by rapidly severing head from body?

All this from what is normally a truly daft-as-a-brush feline, whose previous policy towards such unrequited intrusions into his distinctly laid-back social life, even as a kitten, was simply one of: ?Hey, what?s that funny little furry thing with a long tail and a high-pitched squeak doing walking across our garden path at this time of night? Oh, sod it, I can?t be arsed to look, the contents of my food bowl look far more interesting?...? Strange? Not the half of it. A bit like Fabian De Freitas suddenly becoming Jeff Astle overnight, if you like, with equally-predictable effects on my rapidly-descending lower jawbone. I wouldn?t mind, except he?s now become so good at it, he?s started catching his victims by day as well as night, which means finding furry corpses of various degrees of mutilation scattered on my living-room carpet on my return from the shops, or whatever. So, here I go, then. With an anguished plea. Anyone out there know how to ?un-train? a ten year-old ?born-again mouser? cat?

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index