The Diary

18 March 2006: Springtime For Robbo, And Not Brucie?

Oh, what a lovely week I?ve had. First off, it?s been horribly cold here in Blighty. You lot down there in Oz really don?t know you?re born. There?s a nasty little wind blowing from the north or north-east that completely refuses to budge right now, the end result being climes more in keeping with January than mid-March. Waiting for the bus this morning, I literally froze. Not nice at all. Oh, and yes ? my ?outlaws? did go down to our holiday home as expected, but even they had to admit defeat when: a) Four bloody inches of snow fell just three days after they got there, and: b) The freezing weather caused ice to form in the water pipes, with potentially-disastrous results. Luckily, Norm is a pukka pipe, sink-and-bath person, so the perforated plumbing won?t be too much of a problem to sort out ? but it does mean that as we need him to go down there first to sort everything out, we won?t be heading in that direction ourselves next week. Just as well, considering the latest weather forecast.

Once at the (Wonderfully warm! O bliss!) Smethwick Library, just out of sheer curiosity, I turned to local weather reports for the year I was researching, 1937, more specifically, temperatures for the merry month of March. Guess what, folkies? Within the parameters of a couple of degrees Fahrenheit either way, the same as those of the last seven days, also those forecast for next week! It?s currently estimated global warming causes British spring to arrive approximately 3 weeks earlier these days, but what with the current freeze and everything, we?re right back where we started again. A blip when compared with the dozen or so decent winters we?ve had before, of course, not to mention the bigger global picture, and an increasingly-unwelcome one at that. Even Dickhead George Bush now accepts something isn?t quite right with the world?s weather, which represents something of an improvement on his previous boneheaded stance, I suppose. This time three years ago, both of us were out in Herefordshire, and basking in temperatures of around 20 Centigrade, would you believe?

It goes without saying that I will be looking like Michelin Man once more tomorrow. Or a bag-lady, as per that infamous picture ?Im Indoors took at Edgar Street recently. Don?t ask. One way or another, I?m not freezing for anyone. So there. Mind you, never mind the weather elsewhere, one place where the clime will most certainly be distinctly torrid tomorrow is out there on the park. Man United will want the points, and I can?t see Fergie being as generous as he was to us when we visited them towards the end of last season. OK, we do have home advantage, but can you honestly see them dropping points? I genuinely hope I?ve got it wrong, of course, but I?m not exactly holding my breath, shall we say.

Yet another embuggeration factor has insinuated itself into considerations for tomorrow?s Premiership doings, and that?s continued speculation as to whether or not Alan Pardew will field a weakened West Ham side versus Pompey tomorrow. Victory tomorrow for the South Coast mob with but one tune and a pretty crappy bugler would really cause ructions among both ourselves and Blues. It?s one thing entirely to get relegated because you?re completely useless ? hell, we long-time Baggies could write a flaming book on the subject - but another altogether when the trapdoor gapes open purely and simply because a ?doing-very-nicely-thank-you-every-much? outfit very keen to make further Cup progress on Monday wants to rest key players for a League game just three days before. Should that happen, it would result in a situation totally unfair, to both Blues and Albion, not to mention their numerous supporters. That?s the sort of ?ungentlemanly? thing you would have hoped the game?s rulers would be onto West Ham like a dive-bomber for ? or at least ensure they get their fortunes told, in no uncertain terms ? but I can?t see that happening. Can you?

In the continued absence of the suspended Mister Quashie, it appears that our inscrutably flaxen-haired Oriental, Inamato, will once more get the chance to show Robbo what he?s got. In the way of ball-skills, dearie ? what else did you think I meant? Er, hang on a mo: ?Ball skills?? Oh, soddit ? been watching too many ?Carry On? films, methinks. One hitherto-unsuspected foible of our own particular jewel of the Orient, though ? a predilection for baked beans, apparently! Remind me never to sit behind him, then: it?s one thing having to put up with the eruptive yet ozone-layer-destroying antics of Brooksie?s sphincter muscles during games (Just in case you don?t know by now, he?s a former work colleague of mine whose truly noisome matchday methane emissions would have most tree-huggers worthy of the name running for the nearest bomb-shelter within a matter of minutes!) without having to suffer one of our own players doing it as well. And I?m sure the opposition feels much the same way about it, too.

Given the lad finally ended that lengthy goal drought of his against Blues last weekend, I wonder whether we?ll go for giving The Duke a start this time round? It?s certainly a nicely-balanced proposition, when you stop and think about it: all strikers have dry spells ? even The King was known to suffer from time to time ? but with that comes the near-certainty that now he?s found the net again, he?ll be smokin? hot to further add to his tally. Hopefully. On the balance of things, I?d more likely than not give him the chance, teamed up with Kanu. The good news is that the lad Robinson should be OK for this one; a knee injury was the problem, but reports from the front sound much more encouraging than they were earlier in the week. Just as well, really, as Paul really is developing into a class act. It would be really nice to think that our soon-to-be-gone England supremo might remember the way to The Hawthorns when deliberating as to who should go to Germany this summer, but there?s probably about as much chance as that of finding a British political party that doesn?t rely on sleaze to get its funding. Zoltan Gera? Reported to be close, but not that close, sadly! Let?s hope that when he does finally make a return ? if at all this season ? he?s not too ring-rusty to really chuck himself into the hurly-burly of a seriously-scrappy campaign to avoid the drop.

As for ?that lot from some place up North?, they today reported Wes Brown to be on their sick list. A minor groin thingy, apparently, but not something they want to risk for future games. As ever, they do have impressive looking back-up on tap; new signing Nemanja Vidic, apparently. Just like that. They?re also reportedly uncertain whether or not to play Van Nistelrooy tomorrow, and some have intimated Rooney will be taking a back seat for this one also. Mind you, even if they don?t elect to chuck their top-earners out onto the park tomorrow, they?ve still got plenty in reserve to give us the mother of all good dickings, come three o?clock.

My thoughts? Sure, they?re not exactly Crewe Alex ? but they don?t quite seem to be the all-conquering force they once were, either. Cracks, albeit small ones, have started to appear in that oh-so-smoochy-slick fa?ade of theirs, of late (see my next para). The future very much belongs to Chelsea, I suspect, horrible though that prospect might be for those who witnessed what arrogant strokes Mourinho?s mob perpetrated when at The Shrine just a couple of weeks ago. We need the points badly, they need to achieve a tad more consistency away from home to ensure a Champions League place is theirs come the end of term. An awful lot is going to depend upon how much our lads want it, and how much they?re prepared to give to get it.

Mind you, it would seem that things aren?t quite as hunky-dory in the United camp as they once were; reports today in all the tabloids (and the broadsheets) that their fringe players, juniors, admin staff, scouting bods, and so forth, had to fork out around ?70 squid each for League Cup Final tickets meant for relatives, etc. Presumably, it?s something foisted upon the club by those charming Glazer people. Upset? Annoyed? Certainly ? after all, it?s not exactly what you would expect to find at a club with such an illustrious pedigree, is it?

Seventy-odd quid? Chicken-feed to their established players, of course, but a not inconsiderable sum for a spotty little trainee on rather less money than you or I to fork out. Or someone spending the whole of their spare time recommending players for both the love of the club in particular, and that of the beautiful game as a whole, and not much reward to be gained by way of incidental expenses, either. The thing is that adopting such a penny-pinching policy towards people like that could have repercussions elsewhere. Just like in the military, there?s quite a healthy ?bush telegraph? to be found among footballers. Should one club stint in this snatch-penny way, it gets to be common-knowledge pretty quickly ? and players, even those not short of a few bob, tend to remember that sort of thing when discussing possible moves. And so do those treated badly as juniors, then well-able to call the shots as adults. Either everyone benefits from subsidised or free tickets, or no-one does, no exceptions allowed. Simple, really. A much more equitable way of going about it, of course, yet one that United seemingly find so difficult to put into practice.

Ever experienced what I tend to fondly regard one of life?s ?bloody hell!? moments? The sort, say, when you happen to read something in a newspaper or similar, the sort of thing that makes you go ?ulp!? in no uncertain fashion? What I?m banging on about are ?side-effects? as per those experienced when taking perfectly street-legal prescribed medication, a pretty nasty bone of medical contention, right now, given that six people nearly died earlier this week when testing out some experimental new pharmaceutical or other.

For various reasons I won?t bore you with right now, the only surprise to me in all this is the fact it hasn?t happened long before now (unless you want to include less recent pharmaceutical horrors like Thalidomide in all this, of course), but there you are. And while I read about those six people in intensive care, carefully buried among the small-print in some other newspaper earlier this week, I discovered yet another piece that struck much closer to home - possible side-effects experienced by those taking something called Simvastatin. It would appear that legitimate users, myself included, may have a bit of a problem to contend with.

As the name suggests, that particular pharmaceutical brand belongs to a family of drugs called ?statins?, which is where I come in, really, as I have to pop one of these a day to prevent high cholesterol intake causing the insides of my major blood vessels to fur up like so many electric kettles in a hard-water area. Very commendable, too, and they do appear to be showing promise when used to treat other conditions as well ? but for one small thing. As we?ve seen over the course of this week, with lots of today?s powerful yet effective medication, there?s sometimes a nasty little pay-back: slight memory-loss, in this instance, which is basically why I?m bunging all my thoughts on this topic down at some God-forsaken time of night right now ? before drug-related amnesia kicks in big-time, and I then forget whatever it was I wanted to cover in tonight?s offering in the first place!

That?s precisely what I?ve done over the course of the entire week - chucked thoughts onto hard disk like they?re going out of fashion as per normal - but even as I typed away furiously the other night, yet another wicked little thought wormed its way into my mind. If research has genuinely shown statins to cause memory loss, why stop there? Tinker about with the formula a little more, and before you know it, those diligent boffins might well come up with something rather more pleasant ? selective memory loss. A tweaked molecule here, a tweaked chemical chain there ? and suddenly, you can actually specify what bits you don?t want stored in the baggage-hold of life?s continuing voyage, right down to the gorily-adolescent anatomical details of that unfortunate episode with Doris Twiglet behind the bike-sheds at the tender age of 14.

Imagine what such a discovery might do to the nation?s mental health, not to mention that of several thousands of Baggies supporters, all of ?em, without exception, owners of well-frazzled nerves by now. Pop a couple of pills, and that?s it ? poof! Gone! All those horrible memories - wiped, erased from the brain completely, never to darken your neural doorstep ever again! Just think: Bath, 1991, bye-bye! Not to mention Woking ? same year, same profound embarrassment-factor. Ciaou! QPR, Wembley, 1967, big bass drum and bloody Rodney Marsh? Hasta la vista, baby. Fabien de Freitas? Who was that, you say? Ron Saunders? Never heard of him! Bobby Gould? Ooo ? perhaps I should ?up? the dosage a little more? Er ? on the other hand?..

As with any sort of medication, though, you would have to allow for the possibility of accidental overdose. Suppose I mistakenly took two day?s worth or more in one go, rather than the bog-standard one per day? Would that not intensify greatly the aforementioned neurological effects? In other words, take too many, and you not only permanently banish Fulham, away, 2006, from your mind, try as you might, you can?t find Oldham 1976 there either. Or Bradford City v Albion, 2002 ? especially those last tension-ridden minutes, Igor Balis and all. Drats and double-drats!

Mind you, if it?s theoretically possible to do away with unpleasant memories as easily as that, then it also has to be well within the gift of medical research to suss out some as-yet-undiscovered substance or other well-capable of intensifying certain memories, not erasing them. If that?s the case, then all our hypothetical Baggie need do to relive that essential ?April 2002, Albion 2 Crystal Palace 0? feeling is to take the specified dosage, then lie back and think of England. Or Bob Taylor. Anyone wishing to exploit the idea commercially, I?m the one sitting about five rows back and just to the right of the away dug-out in the Halfords Lane Stand. Just don?t stint on all those lovely royalties for the idea, there?s good chaps.

Now here?s a curious thing. Lloyd Dyer ? remember him? Of course you do: he was the lad whose spectacular runs on the flanks helped our promotion cause no end during season 2003-04. Not only that, his serendipitous injury-time pass to Jason Koumas when he should have done the ?good professional? thing instead, and played the ball into the corner to run down the clock, led to us being effectively promoted at the Stadium Of Light that damp and dismal Sabbath afternoon. He never did quite make that next vital leap to Premiership standard, of course ? had Robbo, not Megson, been our leader by then, things might have panned out quite differently for the lad ? but he did eventually find a lower-level niche with Coventry City, QPR, for three months? loan, then Millwall.

The other day, much to my surprise, I learned he?d now left the East London club, citing ?family reasons? for having done so. Mind you, when he first fetched up at The New Den, I couldn?t quite get my head around the fact he?d gone there in the first place: from what little I?d discovered about his character on those few (and brief) occasions I?d had reason to talk with him, that seemed to be just about the last place he?d want to go. London can be a pretty rotten place to live if you?re of a somewhat reticent nature, but not into such cultural delights as art galleries and museums, and Lloyd ? well, to me, at any rate ? always seemed to present as one of life?s more thoughtful bods.

I can only assume that the aforementioned ?family problems? refer to both his partner and young child ? Lloyd had only become a father a matter of months ago. I?m pretty sure he?ll be fixed up with a club before too long, though. The lad does have a genuine talent, and it would be a crying shame to see it go to waste. Cue for some lower-league/ambitious non-league outfit willing to take a bit of a risk by jumping in and grabbing themselves a bit of the action, I wonder?

How utterly sad I now have occasion to report yet another nail banged in the already sorely-hammered coffin of good supporter-player relations. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I?ll begin. Once upon a time, there was a certain branch secretary ? no names, no pack drill ? who somehow discovered that the Pole In Goal actually lived in the next street, and, wanting to present the lad with their branch Player Of The Year Trophy at a suitably-convenient time ? branch meetings are held in the same town, so travelling wouldn?t have been a problem at all - simply banged on his door and asked him if he?d mind attending!

?No probs? said the lad, and, what?s more, agreed to bring Martin Albrechtson along also, also saying, ?I?ll clear it with the club? when our enterprising branch secretary pointed out there were certain protocols to be followed first. And do you know what, children? A few days went by, then our anonymous chum got a letter, to the effect that the two couldn?t attend at all, citing contractual obligations to appear at the main branch only, plus the fact that as attendances for outreach meetings were that much smaller, the situation was perceived by the club to be not very cost-effective.

That would have been fair enough, but all the branch wanted to do, basically, was present a trophy that had been festering away in someone?s cupboard since the end of last term! As you might recall, that season?s Player Of The Year Night proper was knocked on the head because of our ongoing relegation battle. Dearie, dearie me ? no suggestion of blame attached to the players concerned, of course, but with what astonishing speed have we gone from a club and situation where both players and supporters felt really comfortable in each other?s company, to one where the shutters go up as a matter of routine, almost? Albion used to enjoy a reputation among players as a pretty friendly sort of club. How sad to find that so much of what we once had ? and what supporters of other clubs genuinely envied - now forcibly sacrificed upon the twin altars of business expediency and commercial opportunism.

The secretary concerned wouldn?t have minded at all, but last season, having approached Tommy Gaardsoe in similar fashion, he was given club permission to attend one of that branch?s meetings. As for lack of numbers, sure, that does happen sometimes, but there are positives to be found in such a situation today?s number-crunchers wouldn?t appreciate even if they went and hit them smack in the well-perfumed, after-shaved face. On such occasions, question and answer sessions invariably tend to morph into an intimate discussion among like-minded people, and both sides derive considerable mutual benefit as a result.

It?s at intimate gatherings like these you tend to learn far more about the player as a person ? and I don?t mean that in a negative sense, either. With most, once someone like The Fart has gone and broken the verbal ice, there?s much, much more to be found than meets the eye, and a lot of it a quite pleasant voyage of mutual discovery, too. Stuff about someone?s character you wouldn?t even begin to appreciate by just watching on matchdays. (So Joe Bloggs young kid?s always bawling his eyes out in the middle of the night, is he, and that?s why dad can?t get much sleep? No wonder his form isn?t all that good right now ? blimey, he really IS quite human after all! Must remember not to give him such stick the next time he manages to cock something up on the park!) That?s right, such encounters really can be a two-way thing, given input of sufficient time and enthusiasm from both parties. The spirit is evidently willing, but the hierarchy is weak. I really do despair, sometimes.

And Finally?.. One. After our finest somehow contriving to hit post, crossbar ? and, for all I know, the main runway at nearby Birmingham Airport ? and only once striking actual ?oil? last Saturday lunchtime, I can only concur with The Fart, whose own considered response, when asked by The Observer later that Saturday evening to give a potted verdict on the St. Andrews caper, very much melded with mine. Something along the lines of: ?If ever I have the complete misfortune to find myself facing a firing-squad, when it comes to the ?any last requests?? bit, I?ll make darned sure to specify the presence of Jan Kozak, Joe Kamara, Kevin Campbell and Duke Ellington in the actual firing-party!?

After that little gem from the man whose multiplicity of celebratory candles on his birthday cake are hotly rumoured to constitute a definite fire-hazard, what better time to reveal the winner of my very-much-unofficial ?Golly Gosh - You?ve Gone And Hit The Nail Right On Top Of The Head Award? I ask myself? "We've been doing shooting practice in training all week," Jonathan Greening said with a rueful grin, when interviewed post-match by The Independent. "Perhaps we should stop??"

Two. This one concerns my five year-old great-nephew Ethan, who attends his very first Albion game ever when we play Bolton next month. That?s my boy! I can only hope that his Baggie-loving DNA, four generations-worth at the very least, and possibly even more, kicks in wonderfully that day ? well, anything?s got to be an improvement on him turning up at his very first football coaching session ever, as he did recently, and telling those in charge he wanted to be Wayne Rooney!

 - Glynis Wright

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