The Diary

26 October 2005: A Fine Away Win As The Fart And I Get Radioactive!

On the face of it, nine times out of ten, I would have totally written off today. And that?s even before I get to considering tonight?s marvellous result. Seriously, though, the way in which I began this morning I wouldn?t have wished on my worst enemy; well, how many of you good folk out there have managed to drop your specs right down the loo? (Before I?d flushed, which made the task of retrieving them even more yukky.) Having plunged my arm elbow-deep into the ordure to sort that one out, and then washing the damn things in soap and very hot water, I quickly realised my ?bins? were missing one very vital asset indeed. One of the lenses, which had presumably jumped ship the precise moment my specs came under the influence of gravity, must have hit the submerged portion of porcelain, which neatly explains the ominous-sounding ?chunk? I heard when it happened. So, once more, it was the same ?arm-plunged-into-the-yuk? routine: fortunately, my vital piece of optical lens hadn?t gone walkabouts further into the sewerage system, which meant, of course, the retrieval process was relatively painless. I do say ?relatively?, mind; there can?t be too many people around who care all that much for spending their time in that disgusting manner.

It really wouldn?t have mattered all that much, as I do have a spare pair somewhere, but the problem was, I was due down the library later that morning to do yet more digging in the archives. For which my specs were an essential part of my accoutrements, obviously, and, as time was getting tight ? didn?t Booker T and The MG?s record that back in 1970? ? finding them was going to be somewhat problematical. Well, you try looking for a pair of specs when you can?t lay hands on your normal pair and see how far it gets you: the problem is, of course, without a pair dangling from the end of your snout, you?re as blind as a bat, and if you don?t know where the other ones are?.. Precisely.

Having effected rapid running repairs to the offending bit, out I went into the wide blue yonder ? well, Smethwick Library, actually ? to do battle with Harold Bache, and Tommy Magee, metaphorically speaking, both gentlemen having popped their clogs many moons ago. Quite a productive morning, too, with a couple of anecdotal gems unearthed, including one which illustrated perfectly what the attitude of players and coaches to head injuries was at the time ? in a nutshell, unless they were showing clear signs of expiring on the spot, simply let play carry on. In the particular instance I unearthed, neither the ref, linos, Albion trainer, or other players, even, had taken a blind bit of notice of one of ours who was laid low, and it was left to one of the spectators, who, realising the injury was rather more serious than anyone else had anticipated, ran onto the pitch, and actually put his overcoat over the prostrate Baggie?s body to maintain core body temperature! Quite a sacrifice, that, as the game was in the middle of winter, and, as everyone knows, back then, the weather could be hellish cold, with instances of canals etc. freezing solid quite a common phenomenon.

And so, onto tonight?s astonishing events. Seven coaches Dave Holloway took down there tonight, a figure that surprised me enormously, as I?d thought interest would have flagged considerably after the Reebok defeat just a couple of days previously. No, I didn?t go, although I had been seriously considering going up until about a fortnight ago. Then I heard The Fart wasn?t going to bother, so I decided to sit that one out as well. And cussed like a good ?un every time I heard of a change in the scoreline tonight. I?m rapidly beginning to believe that it?s the very fact of my attendance that puts the hex on my football club. Don?t go, and they win ? and, by all accounts, tonight?s game was a bit of a thriller. Take the trouble to splash the cash, and they go and lose - and that, in a nutshell, is why the casual observer would, if around to see it, very likely find this column kicking itself hard well into the wee small hours!

From what I could gather, Albion made some pretty drastic changes for tonight?s game. Six of ?em, including bringing Inamoto in from the cold ? just as well, really, as he pressed home his first-team claim in no small measure, by scoring the winner at the expense of his previous club, in the 99th minute. And what a strike ? a splendidly-whacked thirty-yard Exocet, by all accounts, and his first ever for the senior side, also. Brought back into the fold for this one also were The Pole in goal, Scimeca, Wallwork, Earnie, and Kanu, the last pair comprising our main armament.

Well done to Earnie for getting the first with only a handful of minutes on the clock ? the provider being our Japanese import, who supplied his diminutive Welsh colleague with a killer ball that completely tore the Fulham defence asunder. Luckily, when put through, with only their keeper to beat, Earnie managed to keep his head, and lob the thing over their keeper?s head. One-nil, and the away end must have been jumping out there, but there was a long row to hoe before we would be home free, and even with the best will in the world, it couldn?t be claimed that we had the most solid of rearguards in the Prem. Could we keep the advantage we?d gained so prematurely?

From the sound of it, both sides should have registered on the old scoreboard after that: Albion, to increase what was already theirs (and damn unlucky they were not to have put it beyond the home side?s reach, apparently), and Fulham trying every which way they could to achieve parity, but it took until about midway through the second half before the home side managed to find a way through, the lad Boa Constrictor doing the damage courtesy of a similarly-incisive pass to the one that gave us the lead in the first place. This was getting rather hairy!

By the time the game entered its latter stages, both sides could have easily grabbed a winner, but just two minutes from time, Albion thought they?d done it, when Kanu latched onto what appeared to be a goalkeeping cock-up and blast the wretched thing right into the back of the rigging. Remember, though, this is Albion we?re talking about! Shades of Crystal Palace last season, when Helgusson managed to completely ruin the away support?s day, by nutting in courtesy of a Boa Constrictor free-kick. I?ll bet the language in our bit of the ground was a bit choice; back here, so choice was mine, I?ll willingly wager some Baggie earholes down there will need intensive treatment for burn damage come tomorrow.

Extra time, then, and effectively, back to square one. I had been keeping in contact with The Fart by phone throughout, and by the sound of him, what with the virus and the game, and everything, I could only hope that Dot, his good lady wife, had got his insurance policies completely up to date! A few changes had been made to the line-up before the start of the extra 30 minutes; off went Kanu, and Kamara slipped into his berth instead, with sub Tommy Gaardsoe brought into the fray as well. This meant we reverted to a 3-5-2 thingy. I?ve no doubt folks were thinking in terms of penalties, and Fulham getting the better of us that way, but thanks to our son of Nippon ? and I?m not talking about the stuff you leave out for ant infestations, either ? we took the lead once more, the strike, no doubt, giving their keeper ample cause to do ?Mayor Of Hiroshima? impersonations (as per the possibly-apocryphal take about the aforementioned gentleman seeing the flash and the mushroom-cloud, then saying, ?What the ****ing hell was that, then??) And, just minutes later, he nearly did it again.

One fly in the ointment, though: right in injury-time, Paul Robinson managed to earn a full dose of the referee?s ire, and the result was he very quickly saw red. I?m given to understand this was for ?violent conduct? whatever that means. Damned if I know, as yet, but it does mean a suspension for the lad, which might be bad news. Still, we did get through, much to my surprise; the next thing is the draw, no doubt due later on in the week, by which time all those still in the competition have finally done battle. My preferences? A home tie would be rather peachy, as I?m not really the sort of bod who enjoys listening to my team play via the radio! Although, if we?re drawn away, I might just say ?sod it? and go anyway, irrespective of whether ?Im Indoors does or not. Habits ingrained over a period of years too big to mention are difficult to completely eradicate in the space of just a few months!

And Finally?. Down the library for me again, tomorrow ? just the perfect excuse to flash the Dingle on the desk a nice smile, then enquire about their team?s fortunes in the same competition. Then conveniently ?remember? they?ve been knocked out long since!

 - Glynis Wright

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