The Diary

07 November 2005: Albion - The Agony And The Ecstasy

A truncated post tonight, folks, as The Fart?s pathogens have really taken over. I?m now a sneezing, achy, sniffing wreck, and just wait until I see the old sod again. Ten minutes with me, and he?ll be fervently wishing himself back among the muck and bullets of the World War One trenches. Thanks to him, I?ve spent most of today asleep, only really taking in the Chasetown-Oldham tie on Sky earlier today. That, and the excellent ?World At War? on the History Channel. I only found out Everton had won long after the event; landing in the bottom three once more has knocked my morale completely for six. And, after my exertions of Saturday ? in retrospect, I really shouldn?t have travelled to London, and the defeat sure didn?t help any ? I?m spending the whole of tomorrow in the warm, dosing myself up with sundry proprietary medicines, and hoping like hell that by Tuesday, I can resume research operations in Smethwick Library, as per usual.

Having at least scanned a couple of Sunday papers, the tabloids, mostly, I have to say I didn?t entirely agree with the opinion of one match reporter, who, in a side panel, adjudged our performance to be ?a shocker?. Believe you me, I?ve seen us play far worse and win this season, but I suppose the writer was basing his thoughts on the sheer number of chances that went begging out there, otherwise, there was much that was positive about that performance. As Robbo said afterwards, once we?d weathered the initial 20-minute storm, and created a couple of chances ourselves, we could and should have done better. But it?s all about putting them away, isn?t it?

Particularly guilty in that respect has to be Joe Kamara, who missed absolute Grade-A, copper-bottomed sitters in both halves; the second I consider particularly of the Laurel And Hardy school of goalscoring because the lad was unmarked, stationed around the six-yard line, and their keeper somewhat out of position. By rights the lad should have busted the back of the net from that distance: instead, all we got was a Hammers goal-kick for our pains. Earnie? Great on speed, great on enthusiasm, but with a first-touch worthy of the music hall at its most savage. The guy?s a Welsh international, for Heaven?s sake: sort it, someone, and quick.

Kanu? Well, so clever was some of his footwork in and around the box, it fair took your breath away to watch it. But that?s no good at all when your playing pals are unable to correctly interpret your precise intentions. Many was the time the pass was wasted purely and simply because the former Arsenal man?s football brain was head and shoulders above the rest. In that situation, even Stanley Matthews would have struggled. And what about our late subbings of the main strikeforce, then? The Duke was on paternity leave yesterday, so that left us with a duo on the bench whose combined ages would have rivalled that of The Fart, I reckon. Campbell and The Horse both meant well, I?m sure, but when all you have is the pace of a loggerhead turtle on its slow march to the sea at your body?s disposal, constantly having to chase the game really isn?t an ideal strategy for us to pursue, now, is it?

And while we?re on the subject of chances, missed or otherwise, it was also instructive to note via yesterday?s match stats that despite having the lion?s share of the set-pieces, attempts on goal, and so forth, we still came away empty-handed. Just look at them for yourselves, these cold equations, including the somewhat disturbing message that informs the reader that we have now gone 284 minutes without scoring a single Barclays Premiership goal, and have netted just once in our six top-flight away games thus far. And that was against poor Sunderland, who currently languish in the division?s equivalent of Skid Row, of course, making for an easier target with every game they play there. Our marking yesterday? What bloody marking: the only example of the genre I?ve seen from our end thus far is the white sort denoting the boundary of the playing area.

Having briefly read what our manager had to say about yesterday, I can easily see the logic of some of it: When he said words to the effect that provided we persevered, stuck resolutely to the task, we?d eventually end up winning more games than we?re currently losing, he?d put his finger right on the problem.. No, I quite agree with our leader, but with one very important proviso indeed; eventually, the percentages will turn, but when? $p As things stand, we?re now in dire danger of running out of road long before we can start to grab the plaudits; sure, there?s always the transfer window, but by that time ? and especially if our League record continues in the same depressing vein as it has done recently ? then, boy, have we got problems. Especially if the current rumours, that we will be looking to offload, rather than take on board new blood, come January, are genuinely true.

In these brutish days where macho management techniques are venerated at the expense of softer ?people skills?, it?s common enough right now to hear the phrase: ?I don?t want you to come to me with problems; what I want is solutions, and the quicker the better?? ringing forth on factory floors, offices, and all stations West. And that?s the position we?re currently in. If we?re dead serious about staying up, then we need a Plan B, and soon.

Kieran Richardson? I?ve seen talk about him returning on a permanent basis in the People today, but when you?re enjoying a first-team run ? and that was the main beef that led to him coming here in the first place last season, remember, lack of first-team football ? then it?s hardly likely the lad?s going to pass up on what he?s got going for him at Old Trafford for a permanent spell in the relative obscurity of The Hawthorns, is it? A nice thought, but last summer was the time we should have got our man, not now.

So, how can we redress the situation we now find ourselves in? Sensible ideas not seeming to have worked, as yet, as far as our marking is concerned, then perhaps it?s high time to give our imaginations full-rein. For starters, there?s always the nutty idea Don Howe once had of roping all our players to their opposite playing number; as an idea for improving training methods, this would have been fine, but when it came to actually putting into practice what they?d covered both on the training pitch and in the classroom, the results were laughable.

Earnie?s lamentable first touch? Well, we could always try surreptitiously sticking a stick or three of dynamite into the match ball, then telling the lad he?s got just three seconds to get rid of the thing before it?s timed to go off. Kanu? His thought processes really are miles in front of everyone else?s at the club, and I really do wish he?d slow ?em down sufficiently for the rest of our lot to be able to share in his vision of what genuinely scores goals. Perhaps our managerial staff might want to look at the world of psychiatry; after all, the curing of deluded fools has long been an important feature of Northumbrian football. As for our continuing failure to hit the back of the net, maybe brainwashing techniques might be appropriate in this case? Plant a suggestion in someone?s unconscious that they truly are the next Pele, or Socrates, and they might, just might, end up believing you.

And that?s about it. No funny stuff tonight, mind. I?ll play that game again when I?m well,and will probably produce once more towards the end of the week. Until then, keep smiling ? and, for Gawd?s sake, choccy biscuits, as left in a plain brown envelope, will assist my creative endeavours enormously. Feed a cold, starve a fever - that's my excuse.

 - Glynis Wright

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