The Diary

27 February 2006: Boro Bury Baggies With Hasselblaink Brace.

Oh, dear ? where do I start? Two goals shipped and a sending-off isn?t exactly a great day?s work for our football club, is it? Perhaps first thing this morning might serve as a good jumping-off point, the reason being that my back was giving me so much gyp at the time, I was left in two minds as to whether to go, or not ? basically, everything from the waist down was a complete and utter no-no. But, fool that I was, I took the view that this being such an important game, my presence would be urgently required. Imagine, then, my thoughts directly after the final whistle. Seems to me I could have saved myself oodles of time, trouble ? not to mention personal discomfort ? by staying at home and letting my four cats fuss over me instead.

Oh, and while I?m pondering upon events following the final whistle, 10 out of 10 for sheer lack of tact and insensitivity by some uncaring ?suit? or other running that Albion DVD promo advert just as everyone was busy trudging straight out of the ground. Believe you me, the last thing any Albion supporter of many years seniority wants to be reminded of right now is precisely how good we were as a club some 20, 30 or 40 years ago!

But back to earlier today. An icy wind, a sunny day ? and a significant departure from the norm with my other half having to deposit me very close indeed to the Hawthorns pub. Normally, I?m quite willing to amble my way steadily up Halfords Lane, but the dodgy state of my back knocked that one straight on the head this time round. Another departure from the norm, also, when I entered the Throstle Club part of the pub; turn up at a similar time normally, and you?ll find the place pretty busy, but this time, there were only a sprinkling of customers to be seen, and had you wanted to grab a table, there would have been little problem securing one as well. No Noise, either; presumably gone to McDonalds for their midday repast ? an assumption on my part that proved correct, as it turned out ? but what I did have was Tim Joyner, a long-standing mucker of ours, wanting to share table facilities with our group ? when they finally turned up, that was.

It didn?t take Tim very long either to occupy the glaring vocal vacuum left by the absence of Stoke?s most voluble son ? and from that conversation came a most interesting thought. How many of you Baggies out there realise that the 19th of December this year will see Willie Johnston turn 60? Quite a shock for me, I have to admit, and, no doubt, for those of you who still prefer to remember Willie as he was when on our books, and in his heyday, taking on and turning opposing defences the length and breadth of Sassenach-land. That?s always the way it is with our youthful heroes, isn?t it? Perhaps we don?t like thinking of them finally succumbing to the ravages of time ? and sometimes, well, it?s better to be that way.

The Noise did turn up, eventually, and, as I?d thought, both he and his brood had stuffed themselves silly across the road. Good old Ronald McDonald scores again. Actually, in the intervening 22 days or so since our paths and his had last crossed, The Noise had been quite a busy little bunny. First of all, the family went to Edinburgh for three days ? they loved it, especially the Castle, apparently ? then, just days later, our garrulous chum ended up on the stage of a theatre in Stoke! How come? Er, because of a ?Singalonga Abba Night?, would you believe? The thing was, the cast invited the audience to dance in the aisles, the attraction being the possibility of the ten best being invited up onto the stage to demonstrate their ?routine? to a wider audience: The Noise, being a firm believer in the old adage that if you?d paid good money to watch something, you should then derive maximum benefit from what it was you?d shelled out to watch in the first place, decided to give it big licks ? and ended up being called onto the stage! Luckily for everyone concerned, it was a DANCING competition, not its TALKING counterpart, so our lad ended up quite low down on the list, much to the relief of a greatly-embarrassed Jane!

The third thing? Oh, yes ? the other day, The Noise, plus brood, ended up getting rid of a lot of surplus family bric-a-brac by flogging the stuff at a car boot sale. Not much to be gained in the way of profit, mind, just the experience of actually participating in one! I can?t say his enthralling description of the whole process has led me to consider doing something similar, though. That sort of thing I?ll leave to those with the gift of the gab, eh?

And that wasn?t all. While discussing the relative merits of banning smoking in public, it turned out that the Noise?s workplace has now decided to provide a shelter for the use of smokers wanting to indulge in the dreaded weed outside ? and he?s absolutely furious about it. ?Where?s the ?non-smokers? shelter, that?s what I want to know!? wailed a distinctly ?weed-free? Noise, ?They can have a five minute break to sort out their addiction, why should I have to go working, that?s what I want to know! Why can?t I nick off for five minutes in the fresh air?? Interesting point, Mart!

By the time we?d gone through all that little lot, then heard The Fart put the world to rights, it was getting on for half-two, so with that, we sallied out into the biting cold for our respective turnstiles ? and, once there, a little shock for me. My stilecard wouldn?t let me in ? said I hadn?t paid, or similar nonsense! Anyway, eventually, the supervisor overrode the errant microchip (or whatever: mind you, in view of what later transpired, perhaps he should have kicked me out instead!) and I was then able to rejoin hubby on the other side. Just one snag, though: normally, when this happens, the steward concerned takes the card from you ? for checking, presumably - then tells you to pick it up from the club later in the week, but this time, no-one bothered.

Does this now mean I?m going to have a similar problem versus Chelski next week? I can?t really ring them because they use a premium line, and charge an arm and a leg for the sheer privilege of calling them these days: just taking the 450 bus to the ground to ask them personally seems a bit of a bind, really, so I?m not really sure what the answer is right now. Anyone out there got any ideas?

Back to the team stuff, now, and on looking at the programme back in the Throstle Club, quite a curious typo on the team-sheets adorning the back cover. Next to Chris Kirkland?s name was a whole lot of meaningless numbers. As Carly commented at the time: ?Is that his army number, or something?? Could be, Carly, could be ? but on the other hand, it might well be a prison number. Is Robbo really telling us the whole truth about the Liverpool loan keeper?s past, I wonder?

After the team news ? the inclusion of Campbell came as something of a surprise, I have to say ? one advert in particular on the big screen happened to catch my eye, For one of those Sunday carvery-type joints, no less, but what caught my attention in particular was the price they were going to charge for it ? a massive TWENTY QUID. Blimey - for that sort of amount, you?d want a celebrity chef like Jamie Oliver or Ainslie Harriott doing the culinary honours, wouldn?t you? The other thing was the size of our mascot ? er, I reckon ?Eurosize One? would be a fair description, actually. At one point, it was very difficult to discern where the shorts ended and the child?s leg began: my initial comment ? ?Is that a skirt?? ? summed it up quite nicely!

But, back to the main purpose of the afternoon, our Sabbath showdown with Boro. So ? what happened to Albion, today? I?ll tell you: Jimmy Floyd Hasselblaink happened to Albion, that?s what ? and twice, just to add insult to injury. As expected, besides Kamara and Kanu, we also had Paul Robinson back to the fold, after his suspension. What did surprise me, though, was no sign in the slightest of Boro being in any way discomfited by their recent League, Cup and European jaunts; if anything they seemed all the more perky for having done so. Within around a minute of the start, Boro?s Yakubu nearly ruined our day very early on by heading just over the bar from a very short range indeed, and after that, proving about as difficult to control as a fizzy bottle of pop left in the sun for too long.

But, as far as we were concerned, that opening ten minutes or so was more a case of subsequently bitterly regretting what might have been had we gone and taken the chances so daintily placed on the table before us. First of all to flop up front was Joe Kamara, beating a couple of theirs before letting fly, the effort just narrowly missing the target, then, not long after that, it was Clem that was to prove similarly-profligate, this time with an absolute rocket, but as the ir keeper had taken care with his positioning, he was there to deal with the problem with relative ease.

Thus far, on the overall run of play, I would say it was we, and not Boro, that had the upper hand ? but, come the 20th minute, almost, disaster struck. Whatever you might say about Hasselblaink, give him half a chance, and he?ll go and bury it ? which he did, courtesy of our sloppy deployment at the back, an unhappy state of affairs that gave him the break he needed. Unlike some of our lot, he didn?t miss from close out, either. One chance, one goal ? result? Baggies everywhere cursing a blue streak, Smogmonsters rejoicing, and us left having to chase the game all of a sudden.

Considering the amount of times we had the ball in their box immediately afterwards, you might have thought such sustained pressure would have got results ? but, this being Albion, you might as well have talked to the wind that dried your best shirt on the line outside. Time and time again we carved out reasonable goalscoring opportunities ? only to see them squandered every time. Our finishing was truly diabolical today ? yes, Kamara, Campbell, Quashie ? I mean YOU ? so despite all that superiority, there was always the niggling thought at the back of my mind that we?d get caught on the break, and get punished even more ? and that?s precisely what happened. Just a couple of minutes before the break, Hasselblaink struck again, this time from a free-kick on the edge of the box, a strange decision, that, as our lad, Davies, seemed to get a touch of the ball before the ref blew up for the foul. But no good crying over spilt milk, is it? They got the decision, we failed to defend properly ? true, it went in thanks to a bit of a deflection off one of our players ? but the truth is, it should never have got to that stage at all, should it? Oh, whoops.

Half-time, then ? and what a lovely gesture from Big Dave, now strutting his stuff at Derby County, of course. When transferred, he was a mite concerned he?d never had proper chance to say ?goodbye? to our supporters, so that was why he was strolling onto the pitch today ? to properly bid us farewell, say ?thanks for the wonderful memories?, and wish us all well for the future. All received very well, of course, and at the end, a wonderful chant, echoed by just about everyone present, of ?There?s Only One Big Dave?? How very true that is ? what a nice man, and what a super role-model for Derby?s young professionals.

From one extreme to the other, now, and this time, applause for five young kids at the very start of their professional Albion career. Quite a bit of ceremonial attached, a chair and table being pressed into service, and each individual lad being called into the pitch, suit in the seat, then sign on the dotted line, all in front of nearly 25,000 watching people, too. Makes a young lad feel really special, doesn?t it? All part and parcel of moves to actively make lads want to sign for us, I guess. What a memorable start to their career, and, for the parents, something they?ll not forget in a hurry, either.

And so to the second 45, which despite a promising start, I?d very much written off anyway ? but just 15 minutes into the half came the incident that most of all killed the game stone dead ? Quashie?s red-carding. From what I?ve seen since about the incident, it?s very likely the ref will cite the fact our lad appeared to kick the Boro player whilst on the ground as reason for dismissal, which, if correct, will mean a horrendously-long ban. Albion maintain Quashie was tussling for the ball, and the kick was an accident, pure and simple. It will be interesting to see whether or not Albion bother to appeal to the FA. Whatever. But of one thing I?m certain ? our goose, well and truly singed before that incident, was well and truly cooked as a result.

It?s always the same; eleven men can batter at the door with increasing vigour, and as a result of their exertions, eventually get the lock to yield: when you?re down to ten, you?ve got no chance whatsoever, so the most we could do after that was go through the motions. One amusing interlude on the Halfords Lane Stand side of the pitch, though ? the lino. I can only imagine the assessors will have fun reporting on his performance today, because even makng huge allowances for bias on our part, it swiftly became painfully obvious to everyone in that stand, our man was positioning himself very badly when it came to watching long-balls whizzing out of the box and up the park. Several times his flag went a-wagging when it shouldna oughter, and, just as frequently, he neglected to raise the bloody thing when players were a mile offside! The chap next to me ? an oldish bloke ? turned to me and said: ?That?s got to be one of the worst match officials I?ve seen up here in a long time?.? Hence my reply, ?Are you really sure about that?? Without even trying, I can think of at least five occasions when we were robbed blind by those running he line!

But back to the matter in hand. For Boro, the pressure was now well and truly off, so they were all the better able to concentrate on keeping us out, which is what they did, despite the best efforts of Kanu and Joe Kamara to get one back. Eventually, we simply gave up trying, much to the delight of their travelling band, despite ringing the changes by bringing on Kozac with 15 minutes gone, and Duke Ellington plus Inamoto at a time when it was far too late for them to make any appreciable difference to the final outcome. Two-nil it was, Boro got the spoils, and as for us, just to add insult to injury, we had to suffer the insensitive crassness of that bloody advert as we exited the ground. Sometimes, the people we really love have a mighty strange way of showing it!

More tomorrow about what happens next, but for me, the most startling feature of the entire episode happened not at the ground, but in our own home not long after we?d got back. We were just getting stuck into our tea, when the phone rang. ?Ah ? it?ll be The Fart, doing his best ?Private Fraser? impression (?We?re doomed! Aye, DOOMED, do ye hear???) for our benefit?? said I ? but it wasn?t. What I got instead was Sauce, ostensibly picking our collective brains for a home telephone number for John Homer (sorry to hear from his missus, Jean, that they?d had to have their cat put down yesterday, and at the comparatively young age of 11 and a half, as well), and while he was at it, doing a Mystic Meg and predicting a block-booking for our club on the Relegation Special, departing these parts come the end of the current campaign.

Like me, he doesn?t see from where we?ll get the necessary number of wins to stay up ? just a quick glance at the fixture list and you?ll be expressing similar doubts, I?m sure ? and for a lot of what?s happened, he pins the blame fairly and squarely right onto the broad shoulders of our current manager. And if right-on unquestioning Albion followers like Sauce are expressing such heretical thoughts, I?m now left wondering what others, less-tolerant, perhaps, are thinking also? I do hate to be perceived as banging our own trumpet right now, but Sauce did make the valid point that since The Dicks demise, there?s now no focal point whatsoever for Baggies to express feelings of discontent. Time for someone else to consider having a go at the old fanzine business, perhaps?

And Finally?. If you should see me later in the week sticking pins into a wax model of my other half, I do happen to have a very good reason, you know! When we were at Edgar Street earlier in the week, come half-time, ?Im Indoors took the somewhat crafty opportunity of grabbing a picture of my frozen mush via the camera on his mobile. When I got to see the results with my own eyes, I was absolutely horrified ? what I had in front of me, on the screen was a bag-lady, no less, and not the very-much-mortgage-paid?up person you see adorning The Hawthorns on most matchdays! The thing was, it was so icy that night, I?d stuck just about everything I could think of on both head and body in an effort to retain at least some semblance of warmth there. It was when he started passing the image amongst The Noise?s brood today, and hearing their hysterical giggles, I started to get a bit barbary. I?ll get you back, you rotten sod ? just you wait and see!

 - Glynis Wright

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