The Diary

03 May 2006: Season 05-06 - Once The Dust's Finally Settled, What Then?

?It was a very strange night?..? Thus spake ?JD?, on the Boing mailing-list earlier today. Sums up yesterday?s game perfectly for me, that; try as I might right now, even with well over 40 years Baggies-watching behind me, I?m having a pretty hard time of it coming up with anything quite so bizarre as the stuff I witnessed yesterday evening. Gratuitous choral insults hurled in the direction of both board and management are pretty small beer for someone who?s seen several sit-down demonstrations; a pitch invasion by Albion supporters celebrating a home Cup DEFEAT (Woking, anyone?); raw sausages hurled at police (no, I didn?t make that up, honest!), and last, but not least, near-mutiny on the terraces as a result of one particular managerial incumbent?s somewhat eccentric motivational style. Yesterday?s events really broke the mould for me. Mexican waves piling on the gallows humour/sarcasm in great big lumpy heaps, travelling around the ground at breakneck speed, and not just the once, but several times in succession? Nope ? that?s definitely an Albion ?first? for me.

Now the dust?s finally settled from last night, I?ve ?screwed my courage to the sticking place? ? that Will Shakespeare bloke always did have a certain way with words; rotten footballer, though, did he have a brother called Craig, or something, play for us once? ? and had a look at some piccies the Birmingham Mail ran today showing the extent of last night?s ?white flag? protest. All the usual stuff, with one banner in particular strongly hinting that as a matter of urgency, the club call a local taxi firm to spirit our leader away PDQ.

But it was someone else on the list that encapsulated the situation perfectly, for me. As they quite rightly pointed out, but in a different way, all those sharp suits, those corporate-hospitality twits with swinging bricks for hearts, flaccid members for gonads, calculators for brains, with double-entry ledger sheets their sole source of recreational reading, they?ll be gone, mostly, come the dawning of season 2006-07. ?To find a better ?ole?, as Bruce Bairnsfather?s famous World War One cartoon character, Old Bill, would have put it; flown the coop, never more to darken our doorstep ? until a time should come when we reach the top table once more, of course.

When placed alongside an Albion history timeline that spans well over 125 glorious years, their intrusive bean-counting presence is mere ephemera by comparison, a brief but faint blip just about registering on the Hawthorns radar; the same goes for players, backroom staff, board members, even ? yes, and chairmen, too, Mister Peace! They come, they stay a bit, they go. End of story. Supporters, though, will still be there, come rain, wind, shine, promotion, relegation, the lot - bird flu pandemic, even. You?ll find them lurking everywhere in the ground, these lifelong regulars; the Brummie, Smethwick, Halfords, or East Stand. Just like their dads and granddads did before them, and, in some cases, great-grandparents - not to mention a fair number of mums and grannies, too.

And, despite what seems suspiciously like attempts by the club to gentrify the demographic mix, their legacy looks a fairly healthy one; you only have to clap eyes upon the enormous number of husband-and-wife combos, some with kids of their own, attending Albion games, to fully appreciate that fact. And that, my little Baggie friends, is where the true spirit of our club lies, right here, with us: we, not the aspirant MBA mob, are the true guardians of the Albion flame, the real heartbeat of this club ? just hang on to that basic concept, no matter what, and you can?t go far wrong.

As to the various theories on offer detailing why we?re going down, I happened to see a slightly different slant on the subject carefully crafted by the busy pen of long-serving Albion regular Dave Watkin today. Apparently, City accountants Deloitte and Touche have studied the matter carefully for themselves; they reckon that a Premiership club?s performance over the course of a season is largely down to whatever sum of money clubs are prepared to pay for players? wages. In other words, there?s actually a very strong correlation between a club?s wage bill and its final Premiership position. According to Dave, by being the 19th highest Premiership payers last term, yet finishing in 17th position, we actually ended up not only punching a bloody great hole in our performance ceiling, but actually soaring right through it. Imagine, if you will for a moment, a Premiership incarnation of perennially-overachieving but woefully-underfunded Conference side Forest Green Rovers, but bereft of similar staying-power. That was us last season, of that you can be sure.

If their theory is right, then the implications for our club are obvious. Either we start flashing the cash in quantity, or we spend the rest of our naturals yo-yo-ing between both Nationwide and Premiership. A bit like light constantly bouncing between the realms of wave energy and its photon-packed counterpart, if you like. Chances are, though, the game will evolve even further while we?re away from the big-time, and leave us several nautical miles of clear blue water to make up before we can even begin to address the problem properly. Assuming we do take that message on board, though, how the hell do we finance sufficiently, then source suitably-talented players, for a Premiership stay with a duration far in excess of our previous three attempts?

As I see it, given our limited resources (let?s face it; even with the best will in the world, we?ll never, ever replicate the parity we?d previously enjoyed with the likes of Chelski, Arsenal and Man Ure), that leaves us with but few viable options, of course - but there are at least some crumbs there to be nicked from the table, if we?re cute when going about it. The thing is, though, if we?ve not already done so, then our favourite football club has some pretty hard yakka to do over the course of the next few seasons. And, there?s another tough call to make. Do we simply want to end up a comfortable mid-table side, achieving little greatness, not to mention that thrust upon it by sheer force of circumstance? That?s how Charlton have functioned in the top tier for years, after all?s said and done. Or, do we want to go for the big time, the Holy Grail ? serious silverware and/or European qualification?

Looking over those options once more, then deciding what?s realistic and what isn?t, I would say that for a club of our size, our prime objective really has to be getting that blasted youth system up and running, and with an infrastructure in place largely independent of potentially-disruptive boardroom, managerial and backroom personnel changes. Having done that, we then have to start persuading reluctant parents (who, nine times out of ten, will have already been absolutely inundated with offers and inducements innumerable from similar upwardly-mobile League outfits) that only a protracted spell with West Bromwich Albion will ensure rapid career progression for Little Johnny.

Get that youth set-up spot on ? observant and knowledgeable scouts, good coaching at all levels, proper training facilities, clear avenue of progression from Under Eight level to potential scholarship candidacy and beyond, pride in the club, its history, its traditions, inculcated and encouraged right from the very start, some readily-demonstrable and sincere interest shown in these lads by current first-team managerial incumbents, a much-needed aspect of club policy that hasn?t always been the case with some ? and you?re well on the way to cracking it, in my opinion. Back in the 1960?s, we had a youth set up that was the envy of a good many so-called ?better sides?, and it didn?t half pay dividends. Bomber Brown, Bobby Hope, Asa Hartford, Ally Robertson, Ray Wilson, even current gaffer Bryan Robson.

All these and more swept up by the relentlessly-rumbling Albion conveyor belt, emerging, a couple of years or so further down the line, as embryonic young professionals. In fact, at any one time during that period, you could study our first-team line up to the point of terminal boredom, if you so wished ? but always discover at least three or four names in that line-up to be ex-youth team graduates.

Admittedly, the competition from rival clubs, especially those perceived by parents to enjoy an image much more glamorous than our own, is stiff, to say the least, these days. Albion simply haven?t the spare cash to constantly flit around the country offering this and that ?brown envelope? inducement to parents encouraging their son to sign on the dotted line for them. What we really have going for us, though, are much better prospects of a lad actually achieving first team status; assuming all the rest is in place too, of course, there?s also a much greater likelihood of a lad being treated as a human being, rather than just a mere commodity.

And Premiership status, silverware in quantity, even, has never come with a cast-iron guarantee that a lad will turn out to be the biggest thing since sliced bread ? or the worst timekeeper since Fabien De Freitas, come to think about it. Just look at Charlton?s side; most of theirs home-grown, with just the odd sale here and there, to keep the bank manager happy. That?s the way we have to go in future, bespoke; buying made-to-measure from other clubs, with no real guarantee your purchase will cut the mustard at the end of it all, turns out to be something of a folly more times than not. The new Academy premises will await our presence next season; let?s just hope that we can start as we mean to go on.

Back next Saturday night with all the usual pre-match guff, and for the very last time this term. Oh ? and we?re both going to Everton on Sunday, so, with any luck, you?ll see me there too. And The Fart - what more do you want?

And Finally?. Regarding the problems I was having with Cyrille ? the mog, not the former Albion player! - and his various medication needs, I reckon we?ve finally sorted it. The very next time we visit our Herefordshire holiday home, we?re taking him with us; a few days of being spoiled rotten, admittedly indoors, but with not even the merest hint of other cats trying to muscle in on his act, and regular pills thrust down his (unwilling!) neck will do wonders for us all, I?m sure.

 - Glynis Wright

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