The Diary

22 October 2005: Our Youth Team Set-Up: 'Appy' Days Are Here Again!

I hope you?re all wearing your best ?sympathy? caps today, as The Fart has been laid very low indeed. By a code in his buddy, ruddy dose, which gathered momentum as of last Saturday afternoon, following our win over The Arse. Sheer adrenalin carried the day for him at first, but there?s only so much jollification you can do, and that?s when the blasted thing really got a toehold on our venerable Baggie?s body. Still, compared to the privations he experienced on the Somme, back in 1916, he assures me it?s a mere bagatelle by comparison.

Maybe it?s no coincidence that this week has seen the emergence of one news topic above all others; the H5N1 virus, aka so-called ?avian flu?, and the knotty question of whether or not we in Blighty are going to be in for a mega-dose of it over the coming months. Personally, I reckon a lot?s going to depend upon what?s actually in the virus by the time it hits these shores; if it stays as it is, then we haven?t a lot to worry about. It would take out a load of our feathered friends, of course, but that?s about it. Sure, it?s infected around 200 people in Asia to date, and killed around half of them, but you really have to put that into perspective. Think about how many people there actually are in the whole of Asia ? China alone has a good billion, then there?s the Indian subcontinent, then Indonesia, etc ? and you begin to realise your odds of catching the thing in its present form really are very low indeed. We also have radically different lifestyles; unlike the Chinese, for example, we don?t constantly live cheek by jowl with duckie-wuckies and gooseys, which immediately slashes our chances of infection.

But remember that phrase: ?in its present form?. The real problem with viruses is their rapid mutation rate, which is why there?s so much difficulty getting out a vaccine against something as basic as the common cold, for example: the blasted bug changes all the time ? it?s like trying to make a key to a door when someone?s always changing the lock, and that?s why that Holy Grail of seeing off trivial ailments is never likely to happen ? and with this one, it could go either way. If it turns into something that instantly hits it off with human flu, and wants nothing less than a flashy wedding, a semi near Dartmouth Park, and two kids, then we?re all in trouble. Cancel the League and Premiership fixtures, everyone?s heading indoors. And all praying like hell they don?t get it. On the other hand, it could surprise us and mutate into something far less dangerous. That?s what?s happened with scarlet fever, another former killer. Sixty or seventy years ago, it was a very grave illness indeed, now it scarcely rates even a cursory mention in the medical press.

But all that?s very much for the coming months to decide. I don?t think there will be a problem this winter, but we might well be in for fun and games next time round. Hopefully, by then, our leaders will have that nice job-lot of vaccine they?ve promised prepared ? assuming they?ve got tabs on the bug sufficiently to know what to put in the stuff in the first place, of course, not to mention made enough to go round ? and we can all walk around with horribly sore arms, but safe in the knowledge that avian flu isn?t going to get us. Not yet. The Fart? Well, having spoken to him over the last few days, he doesn?t, as yet, show any signs of either clucking, quacking, or laying eggs, come to think of it ? and his good lady, Dot, hasn?t heard him speak Chinese, take an increased interest in millet seed, or fall off his perch as yet ? but, as they say in the movies, watch this space!

Moving rapidly onwards to Tuesday night, that saw us both bombing up the M42, then the M1 and A38, in pursuit of a game, in this case that of Hereford versus bottom of the League side Mansfield Town. All part and parcel of the LDV, aka The Mickey Mouse Cup, which somewhat sportingly, invites the top few Conference sides to stick their toes into the water as well. Six actually got through, which might say a lot about the decreasing gap in standards between both divisions. Quite an interesting night, too. Not just because of the game, which certainly had its moments, but because I still have quite pleasant memories of Field Mill stemming from our two-year spell in the durance vile known as the Third Division, and thanks to the Ardiles regime in the second part of our stay there, the attacking code was very much the king. Plus, of course, seeing our kids play them in a night match around the fag end of five seasons ago, a Cup Final, no less. And just to show how circular the game can be sometimes, that night, Tucka Trewick was the man in charge; last Tuesday, he was there as Hereford coach.

I?d very much doubt whether those Baggies who made the trek to the place back then would recognise it now. Since those heady days, Mansfield have turned their place into a very smart little stadium indeed. Three sides of the ground have been totally rebuilt ? the work was going full-blast the time we saw the kids play ? modern seated stands on each, with a small area of terracing left adjacent to the only side that hasn?t been renovated, now looking distinctly antique by comparison with the rest. Quite good for a side currently the worst in the entire League ? oh well, at least they?ll have the smartest place in the Conference, should they go down come next summer.

Sadly, Plonker Palmer, a figure well known to all of the Baggie persuasion, of course, is no longer master of all he surveyed there: he got the bullet several weeks ago, so The Stags are now operating with a caretaker. Mind you, ?Plonker? was never the shiniest coin in the old money-bag, so perhaps it?s all for the best, really. What I did appreciate hugely, though, was a massive sign, to the left of one corner-flag, extolling the virtues of one ?Carl Wright, Muck-Shifters?, in great big letters. Cor, you can?t half tell you?re out of the Premier League up here.

Oh ? and there is one other major difference between now and the early 90?s, but it?s nothing whatsoever to do with the football club. For years, Mansfield used to be a bit of a joke among travel buffs. Why? Easy: it was the largest town in England that didn?t have a railway station serving it. There was a perfectly good railway line running right through the middle, of course, but of places where choo-choos could actually stop and take on passengers, there was neither hide nor hair to be seen ? until comparatively recently, that is. Now, it too is blessed with a proper railway station: I guess the only problem now remaining is a dearth of people actually able to afford the exorbitant fares necessary to use the blasted things!

And, that night, I discovered yet another Albion-Hereford connection (yes, they pop up everywhere!). Bernard Day, their goalkeeping coach ? even Conference sides have ?em these days: what is the world coming to? ? who once worked as part of our Football In The Community scheme. The others, Tam, and Tony James (the latter was on our books about 9 seasons ago), you all know about, of course. Mansfield? Now Britain?s answer to Zebedee has finally quit the Field Mill scene, it?s all down to Adrian Littlejohn to represent the diminished band of Albion ?exes? there. Apart from ex-Albionite Kevin Pressman, who wasn?t playing in this one, of course.

As far as the game was concerned, Hereford, after some pretty useful attacking, took the lead around the 15-minute mark, courtesy Matt Bailey, an 18 year-old loan signing from Crewe Alex. Interesting to watch the antics of the more youthful members of the Bulls support, as they whirled and cavorted about the space ?twixt seats and advertising hoardings in a manner that would have had the average Dervish reaching for the old headache pills in seconds. The strike was also cue for their supporters to break into a chorus of ?We?re going to take your place?.? Not such a far-fetched idea, either; the way things were going for the home side, and assuming a bit of three-cornered luck in the play-offs on the part of the visitors, a passing of both clubs like the proverbial ?ships in the night? wasn?t all that fanciful a proposition.

The game apart, what also caught my interest was the running verbal battle the away supporters seemed to be having with the Mansfield stewards ? and no, it wasn?t really about bad behaviour. All those Bulls followers, around a hundred of them, wanted to do was stand. Not an unreasonable proposition when plonked in a seated area meant for around a thousand, no issues whatsoever regarding spoiling anyone?s view of the game. Common sense dictated their chaps leave well alone, but no, they had to interfere, and not once, but on several occasions. Naturally, this was tantamount to saying ?Here?s a good wind-up for you, lads?, so those naughty Bulls followers simply did it all the more, knowing the men in orange coats would bite, first time, every time. What didn?t help was the sight of several of the home crowd doing precisely the same thing, but without let or hindrance. And, delighted by what was happening in the away stand, they started doing it all the more ? in the end, there must have been around 20 on their pins. Or did they all simply have bad piles, I wonder?

Meanwhile, back on the pitch, despite everything the home side were throwing at them, The Bulls were standing firm: come the second half, the home crowd were getting very restless at their favourites? seeming inability to break down the non-league upstarts, and it came as no real surprise to me to hear loud boos and jeers aimed towards the pitch as the end of the 90 minutes drew ever closer. Naturally, this only had the effect of making matters deteriorate further: the more errors committed by their favourites, the worse things became. Food and drink to the visitors, who were quite pleased to finish the game still on top, of course, though what that defeat means to Mansfield?s prospects of getting out of the mess they now find themselves in, I shudder to think.

But the funniest thing I heard that night was some unknown Herefordian student of modern social history starting up a chant that must have really got ?em fuming in the home end: ?Super Maggie Thatcher? (the same one as ?Super Bobby Taylor?), it was, the usual bog-standard follow up of ?Sign on, sign on?..and you?ll never work again!? apart, a quite sophisticated dig, I thought.

Why? Easy: back in the days of the pit strikes, and subsequent closures, by order of The Iron Lady, the area was hit especially hard. The first time I came, back in the early nineties, there were loads of NUM officials everywhere, all sporting ?Coal Not Dole? badges on their lapels, and trying to get signatures on some sort of a petition, presumably headed in the direction of Downing Street. Not that it did any good, mind: the lady was most definitely not for turning, and ?eat s**t? is precisely what all those poor sods did. The unforeseen spin-off from all those shed jobs was the incidence of drug addiction and related crime (the end product of having a load of school-leavers with absolutely no hope of getting a job elsewhere: the pits were then the major employer of male youngsters in the area), completely going through the roof.

I also heard quite a nasty tale from Marion, one of the Bulls? elderly and intrepid female away supporters; when they travelled to Cambridge recently ? and this did shock me, as that club were absolutely brilliant the time I was stuck in a wheelchair, around four or five seasons ago, and wanted to see our league Cup tie there. Apparently, when the coach pulled up outside the ground, as per usual, they weren?t allowed to unload there. Instead, despite vigorous protestations from the likes of the OAP tendency, they were trundled to a car-park situated a good mile or more from the ground, something that caused poor Mavis considerable mobility difficulty: like me, she?s not so good on her pins these days.

But the ?best bit? came afterwards: despite there being a whole seated stand empty nearby, Cambridge wouldn?t let her sit down, either, despite her obvious great age and infirmity. Finally, after a ?free and frank exchange of words?, common sense prevailed, and somewhat reluctantly, the club relented. Nick, Marion?s son, immediately cried ?And I?m her carer!? so, he too was admitted to the Holy Of Holies, along with Marion herself, though what means she employed to blag her way into the area, I don?t rightly know. Any road up, there they all were, the three of them, all sitting in splendid isolation, away from the usual hoi-polloi, and quite close to the away dugout, as it so happened. Enter Bernard Day, Hereford goalkeeping coach, of whom I made mention earlier on. Taking one look at the isolated triumvirate (well, there?s no such word as ?truimpersonate?, really, is there?) that presented itself as he waltzed past, one swift double-take later, he then enquired of our intrepid band: ?And what brand of soap do you lot use, then??

That was Tuesday, then; two days later found us making the journey to lovely Sutton Coldfield, where yet another triumvirate, a ?proper? one this time, were due to hold forth on all matters pertaining to Albion Youth. Dan Ashworth, Craig Shakespeare and Michael Appleton (aka ?Appy?, of course) were there to bang the drum for their various departments, and what a superb night it was, too. Shame on you, all those Sutton Branch members that decided to stay in and watch the telly that night ? you missed an excellent evening.

So, what particular type of cud was chewed by their guests that night? Let?s start with Appy, now officially Youth team Performance And Development Coach (and no ? this is the first time I?ve ever heard of such an appointment at Planet Albion, but who?s to say it?s wrong?) at the club. Appy currently has under his wing some 16 lads, eight full-time and eight part-time. Each one excels in one particular area, but don?t in others. It?s Appy?s job to remedy what defects they do have. Appy also said that there was nothing in any other walk of life to compare with the buzz of playing. Unfortunately, although he enjoys massively being a coach, his aim is to be a manager, eventually. That?s where his destiny lies, he feels. He?s still able to demonstrate physically what he wants from his little brood, and is still able to compete in five-a-sides with the kids, but the problem is that the various ailments that finished his playing career prevent him from playing a full 90-minute game.

Dean Ashworth? He was very honest indeed, describing himself as a ?failed Norwich City Youth player?. Following his spell at Carrow Road, he then became a PE teacher, and from there, he subsequently became Peterborough youth team coach ? must have been a laugh a minute having to work with Barry Fry! ? then came a move to Cambridge, and then back to the place it all started, Norwich. And that?s when we managed to entice him to The Hawthorns. He?s currently very happy at the progress made by the younger kids, especially people like Jarad Hodgkins and Jeff Forsythe. He was also very pleased that the reserves won at Bolton recently, against an opposing side very much stiffened by the presence of several first-team regulars.

All were of the belief that the only sure way of finding out how good their charges were was by giving them a game in the Premiership. While eager to do that, they did temper their comments somewhat by saying that what they wouldn?t like to see was the wholesale introduction of youngsters into the first-team ranks, say four or five in one go. That way could be fatal, to both kids and the club, so the ideal was letting one, say, have a go, safe in the knowledge that if the lad did get into a bit of a pickle out there, his team-mates, all vastly more experienced, could look out for him and help him out of trouble.

Shakey? He?s now the manager of the Under 18 side. As far as he was concerned, the worst part of the job was telling youngsters they weren?t going to make it at the club. He?s not found that side of things as bad as he?d initially thought, though; he?s confident he?s simply telling the truth as he sees it, an honest decision, nothing more, nothing less. There is a designated ?exit strategy? in place, whereby those deemed not to be progressing sufficiently well enough to cut it are found, if at all possible, some other club, where they might get a second chance to impress. He?s also very fond of citing the example of Zeke, one of our former youthful crop, who found life after The Hawthorns with Stockport County. Another of their prot?g?s went to Finland, of all places, and, as regular readers of this piece will know, it?s now far from uncommon for young Albion players to go on trial at places like Edgar Street (that?s how they ended up with both Tam and Carey-Bartram), AFC Bournemouth, and Telford. I?ll leave it as an exercise for the reader to suss out the various connections involved, all pretty obvious when you finally sit down and think about it.

Oh ? and one other interesting comment, concerning a practice I?d thought had disappeared with the dinosaurs at most Premiership football clubs, and that was that age-old chore of young hopefuls, cleaning the boots of their elders and betters. Strictly speaking, they shouldn?t be doing this, but our threesome have retained the practice for some excellent reasons, all of them of benefit to the young player concerned ? although, I suspect they wouldn?t be up to thanking their coaches while they were having to do it!

The first? Easy, that one, it?s good for discipline. Not quite the sound floggings and iron-discipline normally meted out by that other famed employer of youth in times of yore, the Royal Navy, but the principle?s the same, if somewhat less painful for the juvenile recipient! The second? All three honestly believe it?s good for bonding players together, old pros and young upstarts alike. A slathering of good old-fashioned hero-worship around dressing-rooms can be a good thing, sometimes. Provided the role-model in question lives up to his advance billing, of course.

Another very welcome change in routine for kids at the club is the vastly enhanced involvement in recent times of both first-team manager and coach. These days, the youth team don?t do their training in complete isolation from the first-team; more often than not, promising kids are allowed to train with the senior pros, so they too get a taste of what it feels like to be a first-team regular. Also, there?s a pretty pragmatic aspect to all this; should there be a real injury crisis, or it?s felt that the time is now right for a kid to make that big step up to the next level, at least they?ll be slotted into the side actually knowing at least something of what training and matchday routines entail.

And managerial input doesn?t stop with the YTS lads (or whatever they?re called these days!). Robbo and his coaching sidekick are frequent visitors to sessions involving more junior lads, apparently, also quite a lot of ?proper? games involving those kids still at school, senior, primary whatever. All three of the coaching staff really welcome Robbo?s willingness to do this. Come the next half-term (next week if my memory serves me correctly), at least three first team regulars will be attending also. The idea, I reckon, is to give them a ?taster? of what coaching is all about, and if they do end up fancying their chances on that side of things after they?ve finally hung up their boots for good, then such ?practice sessions? would stand them in very good stead indeed.

There was much, much more, of course, and the relatively sparse audience were very appreciative of it all. Having heard what all three had to say about the club?s youth set-up that night, it really gave me grounds for renewed optimism. The true acid test of the new arrangements will be if (when?) there?s a subsequent change of manager, of course. New incumbents do have a nasty habit of wanting everything completely changed, from first-team coach, right down to the little chap who customarily lays out the kit before home games. New manager, new methods, new tactics, for good and ill, jobs for an entire retinue of sycophants, sometimes. I?d like to think that we?ve now evolved sufficiently to make that sort of self-defeating exercise a redundant one: certainly, the noises I?d heard from the boardroom over recent seasons seemed to indicate very much that the youth team set up would work as a relatively-independent entity in future, thereby preserving continuity. Just like the River Thames in the old poem, in fact: ?Managers may come, and managers may go ? but I go on forever?. Amen to all that, I say.

Back tomorrow with a look at lovely Notlob, and all who sail in it. In the meantime, here?s a joke, and one so awful, it?s truly deserving of Norm Bartlam status. He wasn?t responsible, although you might like to imagine he was ? so here goes!

And Finally?.. Joke, heard at Mansfield on Tuesday night ? so don?t blame me! Oh ? and having once read it, just have a long slow think about it??!

Doctor, to patient: ?I?ve just had your test results back, Mr. Scroggins, and I?m afraid it isn?t good news. You have both Alzheimer?s and HIV.?

Patient, to doctor: ?Well, at least I haven?t got Alzheimer?s??.?

 - Glynis Wright

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