The Diary

12 September 2005: Eulogy For A Baggie

I had originally intended to kick off this piece with a vituperative paragraph or two more about our awful display yesterday, but a phone call to ?Im Indoors this afternoon soon put paid to that: the news that our long-standing mucker and Albion supporting chum, Chris Hartle, had finally lost his long battle against lung cancer. Being only in his early forties, and a non-smoking, rarely-drinking active believer in the Christian faith, only served to drive home how grossly unfair the twin certainties of life and death can be, sometimes.

With my other half, Chris goes back a very long way indeed, to the time when they, among others, were responsible for what was ultimately to be the Dick?s forerunner, Halesowen Branch WBASC?s publication ?The Fingerpost?. Apart from his Albion supporting interests, it?s fair to say that during his younger days, Chris always marched to the beat of a different drummer. Softly-spoken, quietly diffident, even, and yet possessive of the inner certainty of his strong religious faith, his youth and early adulthood was not one immersed in orthodoxy. Instead, he chose to earn his crust in what might not have been considered a ?proper job? back in the eighties, and unlike most of his upwardly-mobile peers, elected instead to pursue a career with what might now be termed the ?green? industry.

One such job, around the time I met my other half, was with the National Trust somewhere in the Peak District. This I remember well, if only because of what you might term his ?company car? ? a clapped-out ex-council van of dubious vintage, memorable mainly because of the unusual use to which the vehicle was put. Let?s just say it wasn?t unknown for Chris to pick up stray sheep one under each arm (not an easy feat, that ? just try it), then bundle them unceremoniously into the back, then head straight for the farm from which they?d wandered, hence the ?interesting? aroma constantly present in that superannuated vehicle. Later on, the twin tugs of respectability and greater maturity proved irresistible, and much to my surprise, he then joined the Civil Service, ending up based in London. Incredibly, despite suffering the debilitating effects of strong chemotherapy, he was still able to get into work on a part-time basis up to about a month before he finally succumbed. To do such a thing speaks volumes for the extent of his determination and sheer stamina to continue, and all in the face of some pretty cruel setbacks.

As far as supporting the club was concerned, despite the distances involved, and heavy work commitments ? he was always conscientious to the point of punctiliousness regarding that aspect of his life - Chris always tried to make a point of attending games, especially those in the metropolis, and those at the Hawthorns when time and his employment permitted. My other half tells me that he once went ten years, home and away, without missing a single Albion fixture. Even after he was first diagnosed, around three years ago, he was still a Baggies regular, very often turning up halfway through some course of radiotherapy, chemotherapy or other, much to my surprise; neither treatment is pleasant, trust me on this.

I can?t rightly recall the last game I saw him show up: as I do have vague recollections of us both flogging fanzines at the time, it must have been around the tail-end of last season. It was afterwards that I remarked to my other half about his shockingly debilitated appearance. Certainly, only a short time before that, we?d received a letter from him, in characteristically precise and measured tones, telling of the recent discovery of secondaries in his liver and bones: it was then we both realised his time was nearly up. Even when he could no longer travel to the Midlands, he was most insistent that he square things with Simon, who always purchased matchday programmes on his behalf; only a few weeks ago, we had a visit from his father, who passed on a cheque from Chris cancelling the debt completely. Chris had insisted most strongly upon doing so, apparently, a gesture typical of the man.

Cruel? A gross understatement: Chris was that rare bird, an avid churchgoer who was genuinely sincere in his beliefs, and an avowed non-smoker as well. How come he succumbed to what is a truly loathsome condition, one often considered ?self-inflicted? by more than a few ignorant (and allegedly God-fearing) people? I genuinely don?t know: maybe one might ask the same about the late Ray Harford, a non-smoker as well, who also contracted the same disease at an untimely age. All I do know is that our club has lost a wonderful supporter, and his partner ? how typical of devout Chris to describe her publicly as his ?landlady? so as not to compromise his strong religious beliefs ? has lost a real soul-mate. RIP indeed.

On to other Albion business now, and a retrospective look at what befell us yesterday. And, just for a change, I decided to troll at random around our mailing-list, and try to get a measure of popular (anonymity provided by myself where considered necessary) opinion out there. One elderly sufferer, Cyril Randle, who has been a follower for about the same length of time as The Fart, is rapidly reaching the elastic limit of his lifetime devotion to the cause. He tells me today: ?One more price increase will be the end of the road for me, I can't watch much more of this shite at these prices. My bloody pension, very hard worked for at high cost, is being eroded downhill at the same percentage uphill from Mr Peace who, in my book, has lost all touch with reality with his pricing policy. 'We've just about got it right' indeed!

Chris Ward, also one of my internet ?bespoke customers? declares in anguished tones: ?I cannot take much more of this! I thought we could hold our own this year, I thought we had a decent squad, I thought Robbo had got his act together, I thought we could be mid-table, they keep letting us down! Over and over again I think I've had enough!? You and me both, pal.

Others gave tongue to their grave doubts about Kirkland, specifically what they perceived to be his lack of sharpness when coming out of his kennel for the ball. Some bewailed the multitudinous shortcomings of a certain Mister Wallwork, late of Man U, temporarily with Bradford (and Robbo, when he was gaffer there) and now us once more.

A significant proportion of the discontent out there centres on something I touched upon a few days ago: finding the optimum balance between potential and experience without being chewed up and spat out by the Premiership. Looking back at our more recent signings, it seems as though we?ve chosen to go for the long-term option, rather than plumping for one or more tried and tested brand-names, who certainly wouldn?t have come cheap. As I said before, it might be an awfully long time before our youthful captures start to hit the mother-lode, a policy that now seriously begs the question: Will the never-ending demands of sitting in or around the Prem?s drop-zone allow us sufficient time to bring these kids on gradually? Top-flight status can be awfully unforgiving at times, and no more so than at present.

Other opinions? As someone else so rightly said about our leader tonight, having been a midfielder himself, and a bloody effective one at that, it absolutely beggars belief that a significant proportion of our present problems stem from precisely that same area. Yesterday?s debacle emanated from a midfield whose sole interest seemed to lie in a marked reluctance to advance, to get behind the Wigan defence, then use the advantage to insert a cross rapacious enough to give their keeper more than enough food for thought. That, plus a marked inability to stop Wigan before they could look in any way dangerous. Gaardsoe?s role in failing to prevent the first goal troubled some; I didn?t spot it, but his action in thumping the ground in self-disgust after the first Wigan goal was practically diagnostic, so I?m told.

Another poster also mentioned something Robson said on WM recently regarding his original close-season intention to beef things up in the engine-room, the lynchpin of his summer hopes being the acquisition, either temporarily or permanently, of Kieran Richardson from Man United. Even as late as the last day of the transfer window, it would seem that was the sole basis for the managerial master-plan, and once the whole Richardson thing turned pear-shaped, it was then time for a frenzied last-minute casting around for alternatives. From the way the account of the interview was phrased, with speech-marks surrounding the relevant bits, it would seem that what was said was reported absolutely verbatim ? if that is indeed so (having not heard the relevant broadcast for myself, I?ve no means of positively confirming or denying either way) then our leader has to be guilty as charged concerning the grave managerial defect of trying to put all his transfer eggs into one very nebulous basket. Worrying? Not half.

And, talking of puzzlement, our football club?s latest pronouncement regarding the purchase of Bradford tickets has really got me scratching my little head ? and no, before you ask, it?s not the old headlice problem again! For some reason as yet unfathomable to man or Baggie, the automatic turnstiles won?t be working for this one, therefore we all have to temporarily revert to purchasing old-fashioned bits of paper once more. But that?s not the main substance of my beef; why, prithee tell me pretty maiden, have the club imposed a internet handling fee of precisely one pound per ticket?

True, if you buy off-line, you?ll save, but what they?re doing completely flies in the face of modern commercial practice, which is to offer punters a nice little discount for buying on-line. Saves on staffing and all sorts of incidentals, apparently. Book a flight with any of the major carriers in this manner, and you?ll be financially rewarded for having done so. You?ll find the same also applies in a good many other branches of industry, so why buck the trend by doing the precise opposite? According to one poster on our Baggies mailing-list, Albion?s online ticket purchases are being handled by an outside agency, hence the fee, but it doesn?t make it right. We?ve booked four tickets in this manner, and because of that, we?re being knocked an extra four quid for doing so, which, when set against the absolute drivel I witnessed yesterday, isn?t all that big or clever, now, is it Mister Peace?

And finally?.. If you think our current manager?s under pressure, then spare a thought for our former leader, now feeling the heat because of Nottingham Forest?s repeated lacklustre showings in what used to be the Third Division back in the days when I was both young and pretty. My info stems from an editorial in the Nottingham Evening Post concerning Gary?s problems adjusting to life in the lower sphere, and the City Ground?s fast-growing matchday impatience in the face of a series of embarrassing reverses at that level. Apparently, after their humiliating Carling Cup encounter with Macclesfield, the paper reported Megson (totally verbatim) expressing his profound annoyance at the attitude of some of the Forest faithful, some of whom allegedly swore at him after the game, and others informing him he was the worst manager they?d ever had there (cleaned-up version). In fact, he then went on to declare to the paper?s scribe that the abuse he?d received was ?over the top?. And there was a whole lot more besides, all of it quoted word for word.

Remarkable, then, that He Who Must Be Obeyed subsequently back-tracked in quick-smart time on the post-match quotes he?d given to the Evening Post, saying on the club?s official website that: ?I would never have a go at the club?s supporters who, I agree, are long-suffering and incredibly loyal. Their support is highly regarded by everybody at Nottingham Forest, but most of all by myself, as I?ve said repeatedly since I took the job in January.?

Interesting. Clearly, one party or the other was being economical with the actualite, but the presence of those damning words in print and in quotation marks makes it highly suggestive that it was our ginger-headed chum caught bang to rights and not the Evening Post, who then indignantly repeated Meggo?s scalding words in a subsequent piece.. Correct me if I?m wrong, anyone out there living in the Nottingham area, but the silence from Meggo on the feasibility of either taking legal action or registering an official complaint with the appropriate regulatory body against the newspaper, is positively deafening! And then there?s the curious timing of the retraction itself, and its appearance via the club?s pukka outlet. Pushed? By a furious Forest board, maybe? Hmmm ? I wonder.

 - Glynis Wright

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