The Diary

19 January 2006: Earnie - The Fastest Outward Transfer In The West?

So Bryan Robson has finally bit well-hard upon the bullet, and acquiesced to Earnie?s recent reams and reams of requests to quit the Black Country for good, has he? I suppose even someone as outwardly-unruffled as Robbo has a temper-threshold that?s blasted wide open by events sometimes, and last night?s non-performance from his ex-Cardiff stand-in striker must have been the cotton-pickin? limit. This now leaves me wondering as to whether there was little or no intention on the unsettled lad?s part to go out and really have a go last night. If that was indeed the case, then clearly the relationship between the two has irretrievably broken down anyway, and a potentially bridge-repairing heroic performance from Earnie completely out of the question. That being the case, when two warring parties in an ailing marriage split the blanket in similarly-acrimonious style, it makes a good deal of sense for the one feeling the most aggrieved to move on PDQ.

I strongly suspect, though, that even as I write these words, some club chairman somewhere is right now breaking the seal on the old biscuit-tin in order to ascertain as to whether or not there are sufficient funds there to make a serious bid. It might even be that a provisional deal has already been done, and all that remains now is for Albion to sort out all the knobbly legal bits with the buying club before going public on the move. But bearing in mind what I still consider to be a terminally-immature stance over his dispute with Albion ? even The King got dropped occasionally, Earnie, for heaven?s sake, so why keep acting like a stroppy four-year old over the issue? ? will he finally get what he clearly hankers for? A move to a top-flight outfit he considers more likely to reward his efforts up front with a much bigger share of what?s in the honey-pot?

After all, the hat-trick at Charlton last season apart, the overall quality of his game has hardly provided a true return on his former promise during the time he first became a player at the club. I guess the real proof of the pudding will be how many serious enquiries we get for him between now and the end of the transfer window. And it might just be that even Premiership outfits easily able to accommodate his financial needs will study the footage, sound out opinions from other experienced scouts and managers, then baulk at the possible financial repercussions should such a move take place. Cash is tight, and clubs far more reluctant to take chances on relatively-unknown quantities these days. If that should happen, then the only possible way out for the lad under those circumstances will be via the escalator marked ?down?.

The other notable events of today were twofold as far as I was concerned. The first had involved a fact-finding trip to the library once more, but when I?d first made my plans to do just that, I hadn?t reckoned upon suddenly finding myself on intimate terms with a nasty dose of the Aztec Two-Step prior to departure. That meant I couldn?t just hop on the bus and - err ? ?go?, and in any case the library doesn?t even have a public toilet on the premises anyway, a lamentable state of affairs that would have made it completely impossible for me to just quietly nip out and get the matter sorted. Oh, well ? at least I got to read my papers in comparative peace and quiet, eventually. What I did after that, though, was watch the eagerly-awaited Cup replay between Manchester United and the ?other? Albion, the Burton one, I mean, and not the Brighton flavour, duckie. I?ll say one thing, though; the game being featured live on Match Of The Day that evening, the Beeb didn?t half go to town with the old pre-match publicity beforehand (was there ANYONE left in Burton not done an animated vox-pop about their team?s prospects tonight, I wonder?)

I can?t really express any great surprise that within just a few minutes of the kick-off, it was Burton and not United that found themselves in lumber, complete and utter. In went United?s first, as sweet as a nut, after around seven minutes, and after that, as far as the home side were concerned, tonight?s business was a bit of a routine affair. Like shelling peas, it was ? bang, bang, bang, ad nauseam. What really disappointed me, though, was the fact that the visitors didn?t even try to reduce the huge disparity between the sides by going at them from the word ?go?, making things pretty hot for them every time they got the ball, just being generally ?in their face?, really. Not many Premiership clubs, ours included, enjoy that sort of treatment. They didn?t really get going until the half was well advanced; it was because of that, I gained the overall impression that the visitors were just a little over-awed by the sheer size of the behemoth that they were taking on.

It was only towards the end of the first and the beginning of the second they started stringing passes together and reminding United they simply weren?t there for the ride. The trouble was, though, by then the damage had already been done. The United side, containing very few established performers, but with a bench packed to the gunnels with the most unlikely subs you?ll ever see this side of the M6, had considerable firepower in reserve, should that be necessary. Oh ? and another vagrant thought I had when watching United?s youngsters strut their various perfections all over our TV screen. Robbo being Fergie?s ?secret love-child? or the nearest equivalent thereof, I briefly wondered as to whether we might once more be asking the crusty old Scot for another loan of one or more of their fringe players, a la Kieran Richardson, last term. After all, if you don?t ask, you don?t get, do you?

The final score you already know, so I won?t bother repeating it, but the strange thing was that I was watching the game on my own. How come? Easy: in one of those sudden rash fits of enthusiasm that claim us all from time to time, ?Im Indoors headed on out to The Fart?s premises instead, only returning with just a few minutes of the game remaining. His mission? To sort out The Fart?s brand new toy, broadband internet access, to his satisfaction.

Now the system?s properly loaded onto his machine, it now remains for him to fully appreciate what a move like this might do for his literary output those times when he cranks open the steam-valve in his PC prior to a lengthy session. I wonder, now, is there really any truth in the rumour that The Fart?s PC is the only known working example of the one Charles Babbage tried to design back in the early 1800s? The thing is, now time in cyberspace doesn?t necessarily involve clocking up horribly-expensive phone bills, that means our hero is now as free as the wind to discuss Albion-related topics out there until he?s blue in the face. Be afraid, Boing mailing-list users. Very afraid!

The way things are progressing this season, it won?t be very long before our own list of playing staff assumes the mantle of virtual guide to Eastern European and Balkan geography. As I see it, our only major omission in that respect is good old Russia, bless its tax-exiled, football club-owning energy billionaires, but just about everyone else seems to be represented at The Shrine these days.

Good or bad? In the sense that since those heady 1879 days, when several local lads made the collective decision to bring regular football into their lives and start something destined to become pretty well unstoppable, despite being well over a hundred years and five more monarchs further down the line, football has become a much more cosmopolitan sort of affair for its folllowers - then great. The fall of Communism combined with the acceptance of former USSR satellite states into the EEC has given British football a completely different character. Looking at the issue from a purely Albion viewpoint, the day we persuaded The Pole In Goal and Zoltan Gera to sign on the dotted line was an immense one indeed; although injured, now, Zoltan?s classy playing style has been an absolute revelation, and as for our current custodial bombshell, words really do fail me. Although I?ve been a Baggie for far more moons than even I can remember, rarely have I ever seen such a wonderful talent wear an Albion goalkeeper?s jersey.

Witnessing what I did at Wigan last Sunday afternoon made me feel unusually privileged; the previous time I?d felt myself to be in the presence of similarly obscure yet truly wonderful talent was around autumn 1977, when Cyrille Regis debuted for our first team. His first Hawthorns League game, versus Boro, was memorable mainly because that was the day I saw him score one of the finest individual goals I?ve ever seen in my entire life; grabbing the ball in our half of the field, he ran with it almost to the boundary of the opposition penalty area, shimmied around three or four of them as if they weren?t there along the way ? Muhammad Ali and your soft-shoe-shuffle routine, eat your heart out - then let fly with one hell of a scorcher that had their keeper beaten hands down ? yeah, that?s truly special, that is. Most supporters are only witness to the birth of such greatness once or twice in their entire lifetimes, if that. With Albion, we?ve been dead lucky. Or dead spoilt. You choose.

There is a monumental price to be paid, though, and that?s when the activities of bean counters kick in. To be perfectly frank, British clubs love East Europeans, Africans etc. because they?re cheap, both to sign, and to run. Why spend considerable time and money trying to extract a star name from the moneyed bosom of your local rivals when a quiet little trip to Africa will very likely yield you a similarly-skilled player, and for relative peanuts by comparison? Ever since the African player market first opened up in earnest, it?s nothing for potentially-interested clubs to be absolutely inundated with videos from this agent or that, all extolling the virtues of their clients. The results we see on our TV screens, every Saturday night and every Sunday. Yes, such players can improve sides, but on the other hand, with foreign imports, the age-old maxim ? caveat emptor, ?Let the buyer beware? ? should feature large when assessing possible purchases.

And there lies the rub; now, it?s too darned easy for clubs to take that way out of potential trouble, while at the other, more glamorous end of the market, clubs literally pack their ranks with foreign stars. They do it because experience has shown it to be damned effective, a known fact that?s likely to send even the most frugal and careful of Premiership chairmen into a star-struck monetary feeding-frenzy not matched since the days of Victorian philanthropists like Carnegie and Rothschild. And it?s not just foreign players, either; play your cards right, especially at our level, and you?ll like as not land yourself a manager of foreign extraction also. Just a cursory glance through the Premiership will demonstrate that to anyone?s satisfaction.

Without proper regulation of such activities in this country, it?s now becoming as plain as a pile of dog-turds on the pavement where all this is likely to lead. In fact, I?d go as far as to argue that the main problem ? home-grown players and managers not being able to progress, link up with clubs whose current League and/or Premiership status makes them the ideal place to learn their craft, show off their talents, put together winning sides ? is already with us. People like Mourhino, Benitez, Wenger et. al. sure as hell win trophies for their respective club chairmen in the short term, but from where are the next generation of top British-born managers, the ones most likely to be in contention for the England job in the fullness of time, going to come?

And what about players? Even run-of-the-mill Conference sides now have at least some foreigners in their playing ranks; what that means, in effect, is what was once a rich source of potential playing talent for lower-league clubs being gradually supplanted by imports. In both cases, what sort of knock-on effect this will eventually have on the England senior side (or those of the other domestic nations) in just a few years time, I really dread to think. And don?t even try to get me started about the arrival of foreign players causing much-needed money that would have previously cascaded down to lower-division sides wanting to flog off a prized talent to disappear from our domestic game completely.

And Finally?. Just heard via Sky tonight that despite getting to the altar, almost, last Friday, blushing potential Albion ?bride? Ugo Ehiogu has now decided to pass up on the prospect of a return to the Black Country. The reason? He wants to ?stay at Middlesbrough and win trophies with them,? apparently. Boro? Win silverware? I demand the FA drug-testing people visit the Riverside Stadium immediately.

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index