The Diary

02 January 2006: From The Sublime To The Villa-Nous!

So how?s your hangovers, then? Still functioning at ?Goodbye, cruel world!? levels, or diminished to a point where it barely registers on your collective physiological radars? Well, you know what they say ? never, ever mix the grape with the grain, even a neat-whisky Hogmanay snifter. The cranial grief is mostly caused by the breakdown of the booze into methanol, which you?ll find in any methylated spirit burner sold in Milletts, plus something called acetaldehyde, used in the silvering of mirrors, leather tanning, fuel, glue, dyes, plastics and synthetic rubbers, you?ll be pleased to know. Just to cheer you up even more, post-festivities, I?ve just finished reading a scientific paper that claims to link stomach cancer with the ingestion of alcohol and its subsequent breakdown into acetaldehyde while taking certain indigestion remedies to minimise the gastric disaster; there?s a species of bacteria that truly loves the stuff, and that?s partly what does the damage, apparently.

And on that distinctly-dispiriting note, I?ll quickly turn to much more pleasant matters, notably our Anfield performance, which, when you sit and think about it, wasn?t half as awful as it could have been. Or should I call it The Tomasz Kuszczak Show instead? As I was saying to ?Im Indoors earlier today ? well, in our local carvery, actually; thus are truly-great dinner-table conversations about The Baggies born ? for whatever reason, within the range of my supporting lifetime, I?ve very rarely encountered an Albion keeper that was truly, horribly, awfully bad. No doubt someone or other will see fit to correct me on that score by furnishing oodles of examples illustrating the contrary, but by way of evidence for the defence, let me zap you with this little lot: John Osborne; Jim Cumbes (yes, I know, he did have his limitations, but for all that, he wasn?t too bad between the sticks); Tony Godden (bar his awfully-embarrassing faux-pas with Dalglish, of course); Bruiser Naylor; Alan Miller (when we first bought him); The Beast, Russell Hoult (before all the injuries started to kick in), and now, The Pole In Goal, and all that with Chris Kirkland, a possible England World Cup contender, still playing ?wallflower? on the sidelines.

Conversely, anyone with the name Paul Crichton should most certainly NOT apply; that man is to the noble art of goalkeeping what air embolisms are to the human body; the amazing thing is, though, after some spectacularly-inept showings with various Conference sides of greater or lesser stature ? his performance for York City at Boothferry Crescent, versus Hereford a season or so ago, was so bad, it should have been included in one of those ?comedy clanger? videos now so popular with juveniles and slightly-inebriated adults - he?s holding down a coaching job, with Gillingham of all people, as I understand it.

The astonishing form of our Polish custodial chum at Anfield apart, it?s nice to see that even with Robbo, the penny has now finally dropped; exclusively relying on home form to see us out of bother just isn?t good enough. What we really need right now are wins on the road, and the sooner the better. As you will have gathered by now, I do have my own views on the subject, which I?ve aired pretty much constantly these last few days, so I won?t labour that point too much tonight. The Anfield caper was a washout, complete and utter, what we all expected in our own hearts, really, so there?s little point in going over that one again, is there? New Year, new beginning ? new belief? You gotta believe it, and where better to start than with our claret-and spew fellow-Premiership travellers?

Being just one of a Baggie generation brought up to totally loathe and abominate the Witton Road mob, and unquestionably so ? obnoxious and bellicose though they may be, The Dingles have never quite succeeded in imposing those same negative emotions upon my subconscious: never mock the afflicted, that?s what Mater used to say - I find it all-too easy to get my claws stropping nicely for this one. Not to mention hate-glands exuding freely. If ever a major power wants to practice carpet-bombing the place, I?d gladly give them the map coordinates, I really would, if only for their insufferable arrogance. But pride does come before a fall, lads, as you found out to your cost late last season. There you all were, wildly celebrating both three points and our anticipated demise, just on full-time ? then Paul Robinson had to poop on your party by banging in that equaliser with virtually the last kick of the ball. Oh, damn ? what a rotten shame! Or words to that effect. And, as your lot trotted dejectedly back to the centre-circle, oh my ? talk about ?The Silence Of The Fans?! Priceless, truly priceless.

And it still looks as though their arrogance knows no bounds, as I discovered earlier this evening. One of their supporter websites ? the very first to master both joined-up writing and words of more than two syllables, I suspect - predicted a 1-0 win for them. Unsurprising, really, but for some reason as yet unclear to medical science, this same Seal was somehow labouring under the blubbery misapprehension that they were really unlucky not to grab all three points from the corresponding fixture last term. Now I really know they?re suffering from a bad case of selective amnesia; as I recall, we were in their faces right from the word ?go?, were dead unlucky to fall behind in those early minutes, and even unluckier not to grab the winner after notching up a deserved equaliser. As David Brent would say ? FACT.

As things stand, we?re just four places behind them, the difference being they managed that point against The Arse on Saturday, while we crashed and burned at Anfield. Scoop the whole prize tomorrow, though, and that would see us both level on points. I suppose we?ll still be without Zoltan for this one ? I?m now wondering as to whether or not my original prediction he would take quite a while longer to get over that peculiarly-named groin injury of his hit the nail right on the head ? but at least we?ll once more, or should have, both The Duke and Kanu turning out in the blue and white stripes for us. Plus Ina, with any luck. Am I right in thinking Ronnie Wallwork might also be hors de combat tomorrow, though?

As far as the phocine persuasion are concerned ? that?s the scientific name for seals, by the way, just in case you might want to fling a better class of insult at the buggers come twelve midday ? they have a quite impressive list of players that won?t be participating in the fun and laughter tomorrow. Deep breath, now - Kevin Phillips, who, unlike last season, won?t be scoring for them tomorrow, as he?s hors de combat, and will watch from the sidelines alongside instead. Other ?walking wounded? include Martin Laursen, Olof Mellberg, Wilfred Bouma, Patrik Berger, Lee Hendrie and Ulises De La Cruz. The last one suffering from chronic Silly Name Syndrome, presumably.

With such a large proportion of foreign lads currently in our ranks, do they truly appreciate the significance of this particular fixture, I wonder? I can only hope that those players of longer standing have ?educated? them in the ways of both Seals and Baggies. Never mind the importance of winning in terms of Premiership points, it?s local pride we?re looking at, here. All I ask is that our defence fashions a ?deflector shield? of Star Trek-standard impregnability in front of The Pole In Goal, while simultaneously demonstrating a leech-like ability to cling onto their danger-men; our middle exhibit the ball-placing accuracy and ability of a Bobby Hope in his prime. As for our strikeforce - well, if our tame Nigerian can stage a repetition of what came to pass the other evening, versus Spurs, I don?t suppose anyone wearing blue and white will be going home disappointed tomorrow afternoon. Nice, also, if The Duke could get in on the act as well. And that?s about it. Just one final thought, though: Come on, Baggies, we can do this ? BRING IT ON??..!

And Finally?.. Doo wot? Now I have proof positive that some scribes most certainly leave their brains at home when reporting on games. In one particular scandal-sheet today, the hack reporting on our Anfield doings gave The Pole In Goal numerical top-rating of the entire lot for his prehensile, almost, acrobatic efforts between the sticks, but then went and gave the overall MOTM award to ? errr - Liverpool?s Kewell!

And, while we?re talking about eccentric match reporting, according To The Fart, yet another also chucked in its own tenpennorth?s-worth of idiocy. Not a publication that normally darkens our doorstep, this one; it?s only because our vine-ripened septuagenarian (well, that?s what it says on his birth certificate, but all we ex-Dick ?Eds reckon we know better!) chum spotted this little gem today. I?ve included it in my missive, so here goes: ?Gerrard v Wallwork: "Neither did himself justice in a disappointing display. Gerrard was lacklustre before re-emerging a different player after the break. Wallwork struggled to impose his authority. Player ratings: Gerrard 6 Wallwork 5.?

Now hang on a minute. If Stephen Gerrard, a universally-acknowledged accomplished performer for the Scousers, can only manage to impress yer man to the extent of gaining only one mark more than our very own Ronnie Wallwork, not the most consistent of performers, even at the best of times, precisely what manner of game was this guy seeing, pray?

 - Glynis Wright

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