The Diary

06 February 2006: The Horse, Kev Campbell - Past It, Us?

Greetings, y?all. Recovered from the shock yet? Of grabbing those eminently-desirable ? nay, delectable - three points yesterday, I mean. Couldn?t have come at a better time for us, really, and a victory made even sweeter by the fact that just a matter of a few miles down the road, those lovely Gunners were busily blasting our Bluenose chums to smithereens. But let me not stint on even more fulsome praise for yet another of our local rivals. This time, the claret-and-spew tendency, who cast aside all unpleasant and uncharitable thoughts about their near-neighbours to very nobly put Boro to the sword in front of their own followers, eased considerably our own acute fears of crashing into the drop-zone. As from today, I sincerely vow I?ll never, ever be rude to them ever again ? well, not until after their next game, that is. Come on, whaddaya you lot take me for? Mother chuffin? Teresa?

Talking about ?noble thoughts? and those who think ?em, while reading this, have a care for the sundry woes of one of our good-buddies, a certain Ken Nolan. No, not the footballer (although I?m dead willing to bet the lad sure wishes he earned his money!), the Kev we know harbours in his bosom a secret so dark, so deadly, its mere mention in the confessional booth would turn any self-respecting Catholic priest into an instantaneously-gibbering wreck. You wanna know more? Here it is, then: as well as being a full-time postie (his ?round? includes The Shrine itself), and former Conference-level referee, on those most ink-black thunderous of days, and darkest of nights, when all good kids have long-since gone to bed, Kev undergoes a transmogrification, so ghastly and horrible, local mothers threaten their wayward kids with it. Whisper it quietly, out there, because our friend is - shock, horror! - a closet Blackburn Rovers supporter.

Given the emphatic nature of yesterday?s win, and safe in the certain knowledge he would have been in the away end to witness the execution anyway, not all that long after we returned from the game, I tried ringing him to have a bloody good gloat. Dialling the number, I heard the connection OK, heard it ring out, and someone pick up the receiver. ?Get your retaliation in quick?, that?s my motto, so without further ado, I hit him with just about any football chant grossly insulting to his lot that I could recall within the space of about a minute, then, finally running out of inspiration, paused, and waited for the expected Storm Force Ten blast from the other end of the line. Waited, And waited. Then, in desperation: ?Hello? Anybody there??

Er - yes there was, actually. The trouble was, what I got wasn?t Kev in his expected trough of depression, just his very puzzled missus, who knows nothing whatsoever about the beautiful game, and what?s more, very much prefers to keep it that way! Whoops?.. Fair play to the lady, though; as her other half was currently out getting something from the takeaway, sorely bruised ego and all, she nobly offered to pass my ? erm ? ?message? on. Never did return my call, though. Can?t imagine why for one minute!

Long-term readers of my pieces might well recognise Kev as the guy who supplied all four of us with referees? outfits ? he?d not long hung up his whistle for the very last time ? the day we all dressed up as match officials for the 2002-03 Ewood Park fixture, our very last away excursion before the club commenced its descent into the icy wastes of (then) Division One. I have to say that when fully-robed thus, all four of us presented quite a sight; The Fart, clad in a genuine Football League ref?s shirt, complete with ?proper? badge, looked quite fetching in it. Or should that be ?retching?, I wonder?

Amazingly enough, on the day of the game, when we stopped to pick up The Noise at his customary Keele motel rendezvous, there just happened to be lurking in the vicinity some minor footballing celebrity or another, who genuinely thought we were of the yellow-and red-card-waving fraternity. Me? Wearing glasses, grey hair, and toting a walking-stick? Blimey, he really did need to see an optician!

But back to the present. One pressing thought that yammered against my brain long and hard last night was this: why is it we can have such a collective ?mare? one week against the Premiership side that seems to have successfully rebranded as a registered charitable organisation ? well, its defence certainly has, it would seem ? draw bloodlessly at The Valley midweek, then go and well and truly dish it out to the Premiership?s ?form? side the following Saturday? Yes, the answer to that one?s certainly nebulous, a bit like trying to rationalise why there?s so much blue in the sky, I suppose. Dashed if I know!

And you really have to admire Robbo?s opening gambit of hitting Rovers with just about everything we?d got in those opening minutes; I can only assume we did this in order to make full use of both Kev Campbell and The Horse before those anti-ageing pills lost both efficacy and potency. And it has to be said that despite having the cruising speed of a land-snail and the turning-circle of a small supertanker between them, had they not been there at all, the capture of those precious three points wouldn?t have been possible. As someone pointed out on the mailing-last earlier tonight, compare and contrast the exemplary and inspiring on-pitch conduct of our elderly striking duo with that of a certain young lad now plying his trade in East Anglia, still very much wet behind the ears, and seemingly lacking sufficient maturity to not get into a full-blown strop the very minute life fails to live up to full expectations.

Praise be, also, to new boy Nigel Quashie, whose game became increasingly elegant with every passing second; so classy, in fact, that come the end of the full 90 minutes, you could have easily cast him straight into the midst of a Palace garden party and not one single toffy nosed wotsit present would have dared demure. Some you win, some (like Earnie, Carter etc.) you lose, some (like Wallwork, both initially and later) you make a draw of, when it comes to the transfer market, especially last-minute bargain buys. I?m acutely aware of the fact that it?s still early days, of course, but in the former Pompey and Southampton lad indications are we seem to have found a real treasure, and, what?s more, for Premiership peanuts, comparatively speaking.

Not only that, judging from the general tone of the interview carried in one of the Sunday tabloids, Nigel ? is that really his Christian name? - does seem to have his feet planted firmly on the ground, unlike other pros of similar age that readily spring to mind. I guess that when you?ve been serially-whacked by just about every single setback this rotten world can throw at you within the space of but a few years ? see Friday?s offering if more details required ? all that glamour, bling, telephone-number wages, and so forth, I don?t suppose they even begin to scratch the surface of one?s heartbreak and misery. With all that emotional baggage to carry around, let?s hope that yesterday?s game sees the start of a long, fruitful ? and, yes, much happier - spell with us.

As for Greening, yesterday?s had to be one of his best performances for a long, long time. Both passing and crossing much improved ? and what about that goal of his, then? When I said the strike was in the Bomber Brown mould, yesterday, I wasn?t joking. Just the way he received the ball, juggled with it, then let fly on the edge of the box evoked immediate memories of his illustrious-but-deadly predecessor. What really heartens me about yesterday, though, is our sudden realisation that there really is Albion life without Kanu and Joe Kamara. Both will be fully-occupied with semi-final duties next week, but whatever happens in the Dark Continent over the next few days, at least we?ll be darned sure of having both back in around ten days time.

With Quashie?s sublime midfield skills already fully-operational in the engine-room ? well, on paper, at least ? and with a hefty assist from Lady Luck, our midfield should present quite a formidable prospect for any half-decent visiting Premiership side. His Nibs put it quite succinctly during yesterday?s post-match Press Conference. "What I want,? he said, ?is a good run with consistent performances and results so that we increase the gap over the next few weeks. I don't want to be going to Goodison Park on the final day needing to win." Amen to that, I say, Vicar!

It?s Ellington?s act that really concerns me right now, though. Thinking back to yesterday, once on that pitch, was there anything at all he managed to do right? Two decent scoring chances, and, in my opinion, at least one of those a raging cert to increase our ?goals for? tally, and still he stuffs up. Sure, I realise that strikers can suffer excruciating prolonged barren spells at times ? it?s an occupational hazard even The King succumbed to during his heyday ? and given their act is generally big on confidence anyway, a series of glaring misses like those of yesterday will only serve to badly compound any existing problem. Even so, I?m willing to bet you anything there?s something going very badly wrong inside that ?ducal? head right now. I suppose great gobbets of patience will provide an eventual cure, but do we really have sufficient time and/or surplus strikers to let that happen, I wonder?

Back again next Friday evening, nicely in time to look at the Fulham trip. Both The Fart and I have vested interests in this one, as we?re jointly going, courtesy of Baggies Travel, of course. If both new boys and OAP?s can blend as well as we?ve seen over the course of the weekend just gone, we may just see The Cottagers almost-impeccable current home record go for a Burton as well.

And Finally?. One. How very remiss of me; it was only very late last night I happened to see this little offering of Chris Lepkowski?s a-lurking in my inbox, and given the Pole In Goal?s devastating form for us between the sticks, of late, I reckon the whole Baggie world should know about what this could mean for the lad. And complain to the Polish FA something rotten should our man not get what he most truly deserves on current form ? a place in Poland?s national side, and a subsequent World Cup start.

Oh ? and anyone thought of sending their goalkeeping coach a video of The Pole In Goal?s classier show-stopping (not to mention ball-stopping!) moments between the sticks thus far this season; i.e. his stunning form during the Liverpool game at Anfield, Wigan away, and last but not least Charlton? Hang on a minute, though; their chap was at the Charlton game last week, allegedly, running the rule over the guy, but aw, what the hell, send it anyway!

Two. Why is it that whenever we feel suitably constrained to make a little noise on the lads? behalf, we have little alternative these days but to run with songs that insult the Dingles? To be perfectly honest (not an abstract noun Dingles are all that familiar with these days, I?ll grant you, but there you are!), unless Glenn Hoddle can pull off something of a minor miracle over the course of the next few weeks, I guess Wolves will simply remain what they currently are ? a badly-underachieving lower-division outfit with few future prospects of advancement!

 - Glynis Wright

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