The Diary

11 February 2006: Humble (Cottage) Pie For Chris Coleman Tomorrow?

Greetings on what must be a pretty good Friday evening if you happen to be a member of the Liberal Democrat party; last night, their troops managed to secure Dunfermline for their chosen candidate, a victory gained very much against the odds, it must be said. When your party seems to be taking an endless series of hits at the hands of the media, you don?t exactly expect the electorate to go out and give you what amounts to a ringing endorsement, do you? A bit like us come the end of last term, I suppose; who would have given us an earthly of surviving that run-in at that time? Not many, I?ll wager, and so it goes for the currently-leaderless lot.

Tomorrow morning, while ?Im Indoors does his own thing at home, I?ll be heading on out down the M1 and to Craven Cottage, spiritual home of Tommy Trinder, famous comedian and one-time Fulham chairman, and Johnny Haynes, one of the best players they ever had at The Cottage (Vagrant thought ? do they ever call themselves ?Cottagers?, I wonder?).

I remember Fulham primarily for their awesome relegation battles around the time of the late sixties; come Easter-time, and there they?d be, rooted, seemingly-immovably, to the foot of the First Division table. Four or five weeks and one almighty renaissance later, they?d somehow be completely out of it! Better than the late Harry Houdini for a bit of escapology, that lot, although they did eventually get their come-uppance the season we won the Cup, finishing stuck firmly to the bottom of the table, with a pretty dismal 27-point total to their name.

In recent times, of course, supporters know them more for the considerable financial input provided by their owner, Mohammad Al-Fayez, although his enthusiasm for that sort of thing seems to have waned considerably, of late. Chris Coleman, their current gaffer, seems to be doing a fairly-decent job there, but you could easily imagine a time when their prime benefactor might pull the plug completely. ?Twould be very instructive to follow Fulham?s subsequent fortunes should that particular scenario ever come to pass.

Mind you, laugh ye might, but whenever you happen to be in the area next, have a good look at the house prices for the surrounding streets. Properties no grander or bigger than our own very modest terraced house, but in that part of The Smoke, now worth well in the region of a cool half-million squid. Their ground being situated about as near to the river you can get without actually needing water-wings, should they ever play us come the day of the Boat Race, and the game get boring, you can quite easily delight in the physical exertions of both sets of rowers, instead.

So ? who?s hot and who?s not regarding team selection for tomorrow?s football-fest, then? According to the Evening Mail and Chris Lepkowski, our Craven Cottage trip will probably see the very last time The Horse puts on an Albion shirt in anger for us. After that, he?s pencilled in to go to Neil Warnock?s Sheffield United on loan, presumably with a view to making the deal permanent, eventually. I?ll be very sorry to see him go, myself. For all his faults, you could never, ever knock him for not giving everything to the cause; try as I might to recall an Albion game in which he ever gave less than 100 per cent, not one readily springs to mind. Sure, last week I wasn?t exactly best pleased to hear he?d been selected to start above The Duke, but for all that, he did make a pretty hefty contribution to the eventual win. Much more than his stand-in did after coming off the bench in the second half of last Saturday?s game.

Yorkshire being his spiritual home ? I understand he has property out there, and is currently building a house (?building? in the literal sense of the word; being an ex-builder, the lad?s doing most of it himself!) there as well. Yorkshire, or to be more accurate, Halifax, is where Geoff first started out, around ten or twelve seasons ago. I can clearly remember accompanying ?Im Indoors to a mid-nineties Hereford game there, during the course of which the visitors got absolutely toasted, and the real star of the show being a certain Mister Horsfield, who managed to get a hat-trick for The Shaymen that day. Not too difficult with The Bulls side they had then, mind, with a defence even more of a registered charity than our current lot.

I see that on the official site, Clem was stating that tomorrow?s game could be ?huge? in terms of keeping us out of the mire for a bit longer. As I recently predicted, Boro are now well and truly in a right old mess; tomorrow, they ? erm ? ?entertain? Chelsea who, currently bearing more than a distinct resemblance to Star Trek?s Borg ? ?Resistance is futile ? you will be assimilated!? ? should, on paper at least, completely steamroller ?em tomorrow. As for Blues, they?re off to West Ham, while Pompey have the dubious Fratton Park delights of The Red Devils to look forward to.

Not opponents to be feared any more, are United, sadly; in times of yore, they?d have chewed up the South Coast side, then spat out the crunchier bits, but you?d at the very least expect them to want to achieve Champions League status, most of the preparation for which involves consistently winning games like this one. A win tomorrow and losses elsewhere could do our survival chances no end of good; not very likely, ?tis true, in view of their excellent home form thus far this campaign, but that apart, they?re no great shakes. Somebody has to send the fully-laden applecart well and truly crashing to the ground, sooner or later - so why not us?

Personnel for Fulham? Our manager seems to be going for picking the same side that triumphed versus Blackburn last week ? with the exception of the suspended Paul Robinson, and both Kanu and Joe Kamara still in Nigeria, of course. According to the same source, in order to mitigate any damage caused by Robinson?s absence, Robbo is stuck between chucking Darren Carter back in at the sharp end ? surely not, given the real problems he?s been having with some elements of our support, of late? ? or giving new recruit Williams Martinez a try-out there. Of the two options, I know which one I?d much rather prefer, but it?s not my views that count, is it?

Fulham? They?ll be giving the lad Moritz Vols a go tomorrow, in place of the suspended Rosenior; he?s the lad that ended up with a punctured lung last November, and hasn?t played since. Well, it can be a life-threatening injury, so it?s not all that surprising he?s taken some time to get over it, really. Michael Brown, who has a hamstring injury, may or may not be fit for the fray, tomorrow, but the lad Legwinski is in contention to take his place should he not be fit in time. Fulham assert their player to watch is old Boa Constrictor Features himself. ?Has been a commanding and influential player for The Cottagers all season, and will look to continue his good recent form driving the team upwards?.?

As far as the rest of the ?walking wounded? are concerned, both Steve Watson and Tommy ?G? are still having groin trouble, just like Zoltan. And here was me faithfully believing that such medical conditions weren?t catching! The Great Gera went to Hungary a few days back, to see a specialist there ? he treated the lad for something similar several around four years ago ? and should be back in Blighty at the time of writing. No chance of him playing, though, sadly. As Clem said at the beginning of the piece, this fixture could well be the making of us. With but three juicy points separating our lot from Fulham?s, then things are bound to hot up pretty soon, aren?t they? Sling a brace of wins together, and the onus would very much be on Boro to get out of it. My prediction? I?ll go for the draw, given their superb home record of late. Anything more would be a bonus, a useful one to take into the fortnight?s enforced break with us., I would imagine.

Monday night was truly an Old Fart?s Special, a nostalgia-night with special memories in abundance for some ? well, assuming you were of El Tel vintage or thereabouts, of course. Our mutual destination, The Fart. ?Im Indoors and myself, was The Cross pub ? sorry, Sports Bar! - at Oldswinford, where a ?meet the ex-players? night was being held, all proceeds in aid of an excellent cause, The Alzheimers? Society.

I have first-hand knowledge of the comprehensive and excellent support and other services they provide to both sufferers and their families, because I made use of ?em myself, when my late dad was struck down by that horrible condition just a few short years ago (anyone out there with a similar problem afflicting their elderly parents or other family members would also be advised to seek out their nearest branch, get talking turkey with them, and the sooner the better) so I was more than happy to attend (and therefore chuck my money into the pot also) on that basis alone. The guests of honour? Preston North End footballing knight Sir Tom Finney, his Albion opponent in the 1954 Cup Final, Ray Barlow, and last but not least, a Dingles goalkeeper by the name of Malcolm Findlayson, an articulate Scot who was also prominent around that time, so the ?twerlie? persuasion tell me.

Arriving fairly early in order to bag some seats ? the size and layout of the room used was not particularly conducive towards the successful accommodation of such functions, in my opinion ? we were greeted by The Man With The Wide-Brimmed Hat himself, Alan Cleverly, Albion Supporters Club Head Honcho (well, one of ?em), with former SC person Wilf Tibbetts plus missus seated already. As for the venue itself, as I said earlier, that room was not the sort of place I would have chosen to hold such an event, but there you are. Vaguely L-shaped, with two big screens at either end of the ?L?s? base, currently occupied pumping out footage of the 1954 Cup Final between, yes, Albion and Preston; fascinating in its own right as, apart from all the goals, I?d never, ever seen footage of that particular game at any great length before.

As I watched the game gradually unfold on screen ? all old hat to The Fart, of course, as he was there in person that happy day, bless his thick glasses, outsize rattle and blue and white sombrero hat - it wasn?t half interesting to note the marked difference between the overall pace of the game back then, and what you tend to see in the Prem these days. Lots more time on the ball, a surprising number of errors committed when in possession ? both sides guilty, not just the one - an unexpected state of affairs that startled me slightly, but no arguments whatsoever, either between opposing players, or the referee/linos ? and when someone scored, it was jolly old handshakes all round, chaps, none of that sissy slobbering all over each other you get now.

Interestingly enough, though, on at least two separate occasions, I?m prepared to swear blind on any holy book you care to mention I saw players trying to deceive the ref by ?diving?, and one of those attempts actually taking place in the box itself. Tut-tut ? naughty habits picked up from those Continental Johnnies, by gad; next thing they?ll want is a hundred pounds a week minimum and the bally right to move clubs whenever they want to! Now tell me again about that wonderful spirit of ?fair play? that was the vogue in those days?

Around the room were various framed items of sporting memorabilia, photographs, team shirts, all autographed by the wearer, of course ? and, lurking in a display cabinet situated where the foot of the ?L? bent 90 degrees to become the ?tail?, a bottle of ?Wolves wine?, so help me God. Or, in view of their rapidly-imploding promotion drive, should that be ?whine?, I wondered? What the hell was actually in it, I couldn?t rightly say; anything bearing their logo has to be a bit dodgy on principle, doesn?t it? Probably consisted of antifreeze for the most part, with a smidgen of meths chucked in just to give it what their supporters would undoubtedly term a ?bouquet?, but having said that, those ignorant so-and-so?s would drink dirty bathwater if they thought they?d get a bit of a buzz from it. Oh ? and one other thought. The ladies toilet: I walked in, and what did I find? Wall-to-wall David bloody Beckham ? but not in the cubicles, fortunately. In the little wash-and-brush-up space just outside, which was bad enough. Enough to put you off your stroke, that little lot. Now if it were SuperBob??!

By the time the show finally got underway the room was well-filled with somewhat ?mature? football enthusiasts; so many wrinklies shoehorned into the space, I reckon the description ?cosy? would be a fair description of the population density. Finally introduced by an MC, Bob Hall - ex-TV so my other half tells me - who seemed to have acquired his dulcet but plummy tones at some minor public school or other, Sir Tom ? I recognised him straight away despite the fact both he and myself were a good footballing generation apart, which says much for the sheer amount of press and TV exposure he got, even in those embryonic goggle-box days ? went large on who he thought should get the England job, shortly up for grabs, of course, while Ray ? errrr ? was what you might call a ?man of few words?. Always been that way, so The Fart informed me, so nothing new there, then. The Dingles gentleman? Although vaguely familiar with the surname, it soon became apparent that had the guy played today, Sky would have had double and triple orgasms, such was the outstanding quality of his ?keeping. Very articulate, too ? for a Dingle!

Although the session was a pretty brief one ? I?m given to understand that Sir Tom was particularly anxious to get back home, as his missus was unwell ? it seemed to go down a stormer with the ?veteran? persuasion comprising most of the audience. Tell you what, though, there wasn?t half a stampede for autographs and pictures immediately after the proceedings were concluded. Cor, talk about ?dodge the Zimmer frame??.. Not only that, as per usual, The Fart managed to grab the inevitable picture of himself standing next to the legendary footballing knight.

Mind you, not long after The Fart finally achieved his objective for the night, I was rather tickled by the comment of one of the youngish couple sat next to me ? they?d clearly read this column in the past ? asking El Tel to bring out the pictures of himself stood next to Florence Nightingale! Ah, but that?s the one The Fart keeps safe in his loft; were you to ask him for the one of himself with Mary Seacole, the dusky lady who did similar to Old Flo in the Crimea, but with nowhere near the same amount of publicity (Mary died a virtual pauper, while the legendary nurse was given what amounted to a state funeral when she finally popped her clogs), he?d be absolutely delighted to oblige, I?m sure!

While delighting in our recent renaissance, it?s also been instructive keeping a watching brief on recent events unfolding at The Tat Yard up the road. As you may recall, when both we and GM parted company in the first part of last season, we subsequently came very close indeed to acquiring the services of a certain Glenn Hoddle, former England supremo and disability-rights correspondent to any of the media who?d bother to listen without lapsing into a state of coma.

In the end, Albion turned to a solution somewhat further down the list instead. And we all know now who that meant. Now it would appear that hindsight has shown Jeremy Peace to have made the correct judgment-call at that time. Wolves carefully listened to what Hoddle had to say in terms of expected salary, no doubt, gulped a bit, bit the bullet in full expectation that the former England gaffer would eventually come up with the goods, duly appointed him manager ? then waited. And waited, and waited, and?.. Well, you get my gist.

The unfortunate (or ?fortunate? should you be a Baggie with a markedly-warped sense of humour!) thing about the Dingles right now is that drawn games really aren?t enough to get you where you want to be in that division ? and believe you me, they?ve had no end of drawn games thus far this term. You only have to look up their last few results to see where they?re heading. That, plus two front-runners in both Reading and Sheffield United, who collectively appear to have this automatic promotion business sewn up between the pair of ?em, and right from the word ?go?, too. Oh ? and come the end of this season, their parachute payments finally cease, which will probably mean they?ll have to flog off their ?family silver? in order to generate additional moolah for next time round. Not going to be a very ?Goodyear? at all for them, then, is it? And not even that; the local rubber manufacturers that formerly sponsored their shirts have long since gone to The Great Boardroom In The Sky, with the loss of oodles of jobs in the region, just to make matters even worse.

Last night was spent very quietly indeed; while ?Im Indoors was in the ?office? wrestling manfully with the minutiae of his book manuscript, I was downstairs watching the highlights of the African Nations Cup semi-final losers? play-off between Nigeria and Senegal. No Kanu for the Nigerians, sadly, but what we did have instead was a goodly dollop of Joe Kamara for Senegal. Not a bad game, as far as he was concerned; at one point, he nearly had a hand in what would (and most certainly should) have been the winning goal for Senegal. A piece of pure magic, it was, Joe first grabbing the ball when some way into the Nigerian half of the pitch, rounding two opposing players on the way forward, then laying the ball off to a handily-placed colleague running like a steam-train just to his left, and positioned on the edge of the box when he actually made the pass.

It was a crying shame his team-mate wasn?t as quick on the uptake as Joe; although the guy was running into the box from a position roughly in line with where the 18-yard line does a right-angle in search of the goal-line, and was therefore approaching the upright at an angle of about 45 degrees, he failed to position the shot accurately enough, and instead of evading their keeper?s outstretched arm, then plopping into the back of the net somewhere in the region of the near post, it tamely and harmlessly shot across both goalmouth and post instead, eluding everyone, friend and foe alike, then ended up safely in the hands of the lurking ball-boy just behind the sticks. One hell of a run from Joe, though; let?s hope he can do better the next time he plays for us which, all being well, should be when we encounter Boro on our own muck-heap, a fortnight on Sunday. It doesn?t need me to remind you of the sheer importance of this particular game; now they?ve been sucked into the relegation dog-fight as well, it?s clearly in our best interests to give them something to think about, isn?t it?

And Finally?.. One. Now that I?ve finally finished rolling around the floor at the very mention of this one, I can now let you lot in on the joke as well. It?s the FA that are primarily to blame, mind; the other day, when perusing my Guardian sports section, what did I see? A pronouncement from that august body they wanted to encourage more ex-pros to become ?proper? referees. There?s currently a six-year minimum before a ref can progress from officiating at Sunday parks games to whistling at top non-League level. The FA, bless their blazers and brandy snifters, want to reduce that to four, in order to attract those now nearing the end of their career and get them percolating through the system with the minimum of red-tape involved.

That?s not what had the tears rolling down my face in rivulets, though, and neighbours fearing for my sanity. (The sound of hysterical laughter is quite capable of passing through party walls, believe you me!) What finally did it for me was the ?shining example? they held up as a role-model for aspirant whistlers everywhere. Go on ? how many of you dudes out there remember a certain Steve Baines? A member of the whistling fraternity, sure, and one now (thankfully!) retired from the middle, but just eight or so years back, he was very much a member of that endangered species, an ex-pro (he?d spent part of his career with Walsall, I believe) who?d taken up the whistle in earnest upon retirement.

Sure, I?m well aware of the fact that being an ex-player would very likely trip the ?poacher-turned-gamekeeper? factor full-blast, and someone in that position would therefore spot some crafty little infringements we supporters probably wouldn?t ? after all, that?s the main reason why the FA want to encourage more to become match officials in the first place ? but I also have to state, with hand firmly placed on heart, never in my entire life have I ever come across someone more incompetent at that level when wielding whistle, stopwatch and notebook in deadly earnest.

Well do I remember his refereeing nadir, Albion-wise, versus Pompey, at Fratton Park, around the time Harford was manager. Albion were cruising, at either three-nil or three-one in front, despite that gentleman?s best efforts to spoil the spectacle for both sets of supporters by staging a pretty accurate representation of Platform Nine, New Street Station, and the Cornwall Special about to pull out ? then, in the latter part of the second half, he suddenly managed to see a series of infringements that literally no-one else in that away end ? and some of our number were refs themselves in their own spare time, knew what they were talking about, and were generally not averse to sharing their views on such matters ? and as a result, Pompey came very close indeed to pulling it right back.

Fortunately, we (and Baggie right) did triumph in the end, but very narrowly indeed. But having sat back and thought about the various games I?ve seen over the course of recent years, and with Baines in charge, not once can I recall any such game ending without its fair share of controversy of one sort or another. And this is the guy the FA want to act as mentor, role model, even, to aspirant ex-pros? Talk about King Herod lecturing an audience on neonatal child care, with particular reference toward newborn males.

Two. Tomorrow, it won?t be just readers of this piece having my personal views on the Fulham game. Those nice folkies at The Observer got in touch tonight ? I blame Sutton Baggie secretary Amanda Hume (who has been supplying a similar service for that newspaper for several weeks, now) for giving them my name in the first place ? which means that this Sunday?s effort will be enlivened (or otherwise, you pays yer money, etc.) by around a hundred or so words on the subject from me. Mind you, if you don?t fancy the thought of me tripping the light fantastic around their sports section, they?ve roped in The Fart as well, so expect to see his views also ere too many moons have waxed and waned oer the Galton Bridge. Which reminds me ? I must tell the old codger tomorrow that they don?t use carrier pigeons to deliver copy any more!

 - Glynis Wright

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