The Diary

07 May 2006: Say Hello, Wave Goodbye!

Tomorrow sees us entering the very last phase of our two-year Premiership stay, and with Goodison Park providing a suitably-splendid backdrop for our top-flight funeral rites, of course. At least three of the former GD Away team will be there, the only absentee being The Noise, who has to work tomorrow, sadly. Never mind, while he?s a-chucking of those delicately-crafted pottery items in and out of their fiery finishing school, I?m sure he?ll have at least one half of his mind attuned to what?s happening on Merseyside, the other being fully preoccupied with incessant chatter, no doubt. Oh ? and while we?re merrily proceeding on our way up the M6, then the M62, The Bluenose Butcher will also be travelling North; in his case, to The Reebok and Bolton Wanderers. With any luck, while we?re en-route, I?ll get to see his distinctive white van going in the same direction. If I do, expect to see a bucketload of verbal insults headed his porky and beefy way.

With any luck also, the weather will hold for a suitably sunny and warm Premiership send-off for our lot. It?s always a pleasure watching football on Merseyside, mainly because that despite all the dramatic changes the selling of football?s very soul to Sky for the modern-day equivalent of thirty pieces of silver have wrought, both Merseyside clubs still seem to retain at least some semblance of regard for the spirit of the game as it used to be. Not so heavy on the marketing and corporate stuff, but fairly large on the ordinary punter, for once. Not only that, whenever you go to Goodison, a much more gentle pre-match ambience still prevails there, a much warmer atmosphere very much rooted in the sort to be found in society around thirty years ago, and prevalent much earlier still, of course. ?Tis sadly true we?re being forcibly ejected from the Promised Land come ten to five tomorrow night, but even so, I can readily think of at least a dozen far more unpleasant ? not to mention prohibitively expensive! - places to go and see it happen.

Time also to see at least some of our finest pull on the famous blue and white striped shirt (or its away equivalent) for the very last time ever, no doubt. I wonder just how many of our current crop will be greeting our Championship opener come next August? Not so Martin Albrechtsen, though; whatever his subsequent fate, our very own flitch of Danish bacon will be sitting out not only The Last Baggie Waltz, but our rock?n?roll curtain-raiser come August, too. Very much in keeping with the current Rooney-inspired metatarsal zeitgeist, he?s gone and broken a toe (ouch!), so will have to give this one a miss. According to the club website, this has chucked up a bit of a snag for our manager, as both Clem and Tommy ?G? are still recovering from surgical procedures of one sort or another.

Robson is apparently looking to fill the gap with either Jared Hodgkiss, or Williams-Martinez, neither of whom have ever started for the Baggies first-string before. An excellent time to give these lads vital first-team experience, provided that the boo-boys don?t turn their first proud 90 minutes into a repeat of what happened the night poor Scott Darton had his fragile confidence so thoroughly-wrecked, about 12 years ago. Richard Chaplow will also be starring in an operating theatre near you very soon, the problem this time being a damaged knee cartilage. Apparently, the damage to Tommy ?G?s important groiny bits is much more extensive than had been previously thought; Robbo is now saying that even the start of next season is looking increasingly unlikely as a proposed comeback date for our former Player Of The Year. Perhaps this is the time we should seek to get our sponsorship not from T-Mobile, but from BUPA? Or, keeping it all fashionably ethical, our local area health authority, n?est ce pas?

Incidentally, it was very noble of Steve Watson to suggest recently that our players should shoulder at least some of the blame for our relegation, but as he has a ?get-out clause? immovably sewn into the lining of his jacket pocket, then he can afford to be brutally honest, can?t he? Talking of which, apparently, Robson has been chinwagging with all those contractually able to walk for one reason or another ? well, with at least three of the four, at any rate, and intends to have a natter with Jeremy Peace this coming Monday about what to do. Perhaps we may know a little bit more by the time I pen my very last piece of the 2005-06 season?

As for The Toffees, they?ll have most likely regained the services of one Mikel Arteta for tomorrow?s game. He?s been out for the last four with an ankle injury, but Moyes is now saying he might be available tomorrow after all. Definitely out, though, are Richard Wright (gashed knee), Tony Hibbert (hernia operation), Tim Cahill (knee) and Lee Carsley (suspended). There?s also a strong suggestion that Everton might unleash the youthful Welsh talents of a certain Simon Davis upon our moribund lot. He?s formerly of Tottenham and a Welsh international (29 caps), apparently, but has only managed to start in half of Everton?s first team games, to date.

As we come to the end of yet another football season, with its passing ? one most certainly unlamented by most Baggies, of that you can be sure ? for one former Albion player in particular, Bob Taylor, it almost certainly represents the end of an illustrious playing career spanning nigh-on 20 years, counting his time as a Leeds United apprentice, of course. Apparently, Tamworth, his latest club, have now decided to dispense with his striking services and, to be honest, I don?t suppose Bob will have taken too many hard feelings about that on board. This season, he didn?t once find the net for them; admittedly, he was injured for quite some time, but when you find yourself in their Conference position ? a parlous one! ? it?s not altogether wise to allow yourself the luxury of employing players whose fitness might prove suspect at the very moment when you desperately need someone reliable banging in the goals.

As Bob himself has stated publicly many, many times, the only thing he knows is football; a state of affairs not unlike that of many time-served infantry squaddies, who can only bring proficiency with the automatic rifle and Mark One drill boot into Civvy Street with them. Lacking any formal paper qualifications whatsoever, a state of affairs largely brought about by his all-consuming passion for the game when a young man, it?s hard to see how Supes could find a second career in business, say, unless the PFA give him a grant in order for him to study and acquire such skills, of course.

That doesn?t mean he lacks intelligence, mind; sometimes, his undoubted ability to talk ? and, more importantly, relate and empathise well with - diverse groups of people only serves to reinforce the notion all-too clearly just how badly this country?s educational system has let some kids down in the past. The Noise (and I?m sure he won?t mind one little bit my saying this on his behalf), is of similar ilk. Ask him to explain a complex footballing/workplace/politically-opinionated concept verbally, and he?s as happy as a Dingle in a hovel; tell him to express similar thoughts in writing, however, and it immediately becomes a much more difficult task. Thick? Not a bit of it ? just like ?beauty?, 'intelligence' is a concept truly in the eyes of the beholder.

But just like The Noise does, Bob undersells himself by a country mile. ?Intelligence? can take many forms, and not just in terms of the conventional modern view that paper certificates are the sole valid assessment of someone?s true worth, nor an accurate forecast of latent academic ability, even. As both Bob and The Noise demonstrate only too well, not a bit of it. In fact, I used to know a chap who?d made his first million back in the early seventies, when such things were worth far more in terms of buying-power than they are today. His profession? Scrap metal merchant, aka a ?tatter?, as per that now-antiquated Steve Bull ditty much beloved of Baggies supporter in times of yore ? but the most remarkable thing about the guy was the fact he couldn?t read or write to save his life. I very often found myself in the bar of my mother?s pub reading official correspondence for him, then explaining in simple terms what it all meant! Ask the very same chap to strike a diamond-hard bargain with prospective clients, however, and I?d defy a fully-fledged Ph.D to do better, I really would.

Would a coaching career suit Supes? Undoubtedly; you have only to attend Supporters? Club meetings where he?s the guest speaker to see that he has an almost instinctive empathy with both small kids and adolescents, and a natural ability to put his point over to an audience very well indeed. If I were contemplating allowing a child of mine to take up a football scholarship at our favourite football club, talking at length with someone of Bob?s reputation and calibre before allowing the lad to sign on the dotted line would make that decision infinitely more easy by comparison. There is one small snag, though; for years, now, when asked about this, Bob?s reply has been that, yes, he really wants to take those blasted coaching badges ? I understand he did half of a course while at Bolton, but never completed the course - and will be enrolling to finish the job very soon indeed, but, now approaching the very end of his playing career, he has still to do so!

Could the barrier be financial, I wonder? Recently, I was quite shocked to read that it costs players something in the order of ?7K to get enrolled onto the UEFA ?A? Licence coaching course, which is a footballing equivalent of a university degree; qualifies you to ply your trade anywhere, and at any level whatsoever, top, bottom or indifferent. Not a major problem if you?re name?s Kanu, say, or Shearer, just to give this a bit of a home-grown touch, but a distinctly-possible one of you?ve spent almost the whole of your playing career plying your trade in the less well-remunerative lower divisions. I assume that in that sort of case, the PFA would assist ? er, would it? Admittedly, Bob might not feel the urgent need to get certificates qualifying him to work in such exalted climes ? possession of the above qualifies holders to coach and manage, up to and including Premiership level ? but it?s a bit worrying, to say the least, to hear that he?s as yet to complete coaching badges of any description, even the dead-basic one taken by parents wanting to coach a kids side.

Contrast that with the current position of Michael Appleton, who had to prematurely retire from our playing ranks due to injury, of course, and is now employed on our coaching staff. I?m given to understand that since he packed in playing, he?s been going through his various coaching badges at a rate of knots, and it won?t be too long now before he?s achieved just about every sort of theoretical and practical coaching qualification you can obtain in this country. Clearly, if he?s still determined to go down that road, Bob has an awful lot of catching up to do, assuming he wants to commit to the considerable financial outlay involved in the first place, mind.

So, assuming he doesn?t find employment in outside industry, or self-employment, and is seemingly prevaricating on the issue of taking coaching badges, what else could Bob possibly do, post-retirement? Well, although lacking paper qualifications of any description, he does possess formidable ?people skills?, something that would make him an asset to any organisation needing good PR people. Media work?s a thought; after all, if a near-certifiable homicidal maniac like Chris Kamara can get his toxic tarsals and metatarsals well under the table at Sky TV, then Supes would be a shoo-in, surely? Let?s face it, we?ve all heard much worse trying to place their unsteady feet onto the lower regions of the nepotistic and-clique-ridden greasy pole that represents a successful media career, and Bob?s wonderfully-charismatic and strongly-outgoing personality would cover a whole multitude of early on-air sins. The guy would be a natural ? any chance of giving him a break, anyone?

Failing a career in the media, then, what else could Bob do? Would his old employers, Albion, consider taking him on, I wonder? I can just picture Bob on matchdays, enthusiastically meeting and greeting sponsors, box-holders, and so forth, happily schmoozing with both famous and not-so-famous, talking to Sven one minute, then school parties working at the educational centre just down the road, the next; effectively, playing the same sort of game Steve Bull does for The Dingles these days, but with far more diplomatic charm about him, I?m sure.

That?s the journey I?d really like to see Bob take post-playing career, one he?d positively relish, I bet. Additionally, by working in that field, he?d be able to give something back to both Albion, and those supporters who still worship the very ground he walks on. The possible ? some would argue ?probable? - alternative of Bob quietly festering away in retirement doesn?t bear thinking about, does it? Well, now he?s left Tamworth and is unlikely to take up another playing post, isn?t it about time Albion started talking turkey? As all the best ?missing person? charities constantly urge, it only takes a second to pick up that phone and dial the number. I?m willing to bet anything you want that within milliseconds of Albion actually doing so, our illustrious former striker would loudly declare, ?I?m your man?.?

On Thursday evening, the siren-call of Kiddy Branch beckoned, Lorelei-like. Not so much to lure unwary sailors on the River Rhine to their watery doom, more to grab attendees for their thrash, with former Baggies assistant manager Colin Addison and former defender Ally Robertson as that night?s guest speakers. Having never heard Colin hold forth at any time before this week, I didn?t know quite what to expect, therefore it was with some delight I discovered him to be a most eloquent, animated and articulate speaker, one of the best and most interesting I?ve come across for quite some time. My other half was most pleasantly surprised also; apparently, while in the Hereford United hot-seat (he got at least two goes as their manager, ?Im Indoors tells me, and quite possibly undertook a third spell, too), he invariably presented as extremely dour, taciturn, even, not an easy man to get to know on a personal level at all.

His radio work with The Beeb ? he covers Cardiff and/or Swansea City for them quite a lot ? undoubtedly helped, but even so, such was his ability to ?hold? an audience, time simply flashed by, and it was with some regret chairman Roy Haden had to draw a close to the proceedings, if only because of the fact that it was rapidly approaching eleven at night! Topics? Naturally, Colin?s Albion time as Number Two to Big Ron featured prominently ? with much vocal assistance from Ally, naturally enough ? Laurie Cunningham, dubious football practices in Spain, ?that? wonderful 1978-79 side, Graham Turner, both when with The Dingles, and now, as chairman of Hereford United. Talking of the cider-slurpers, we also had stuff about the famous 1972 game, when the (then, non-League) Bulls put (old) First Division Newcastle United to the sword with that unforgettable Ronnie Radford cannonball of a goal, his opinion of the current set-up there, and his hopes for them in the forthcoming play-offs.

Ally also chipped in with more stuff about his early time with the Dingles, managed by Graham Turner back then, of course, also his own reminisces about 1978-79. He then contributed further with stuff about Albion, and his opinions concerning the present day squad. I don?t think he took too kindly to the news that Duke Ellington allegedly wouldn?t play with a bruised toe the other night, either; he well remembered the time when he?d played practically the whole of one game with a broken leg ? when he was around the age of 17, back in 1969, if my memory serves me well (Ooer! The latter part of my last sentence sounds a bit like Brian Auger and The Trinity about to embark upon a rendition of the 1968 hit ?Wheels On Fire?, doesn?t it?) and recalled instances of many other players doing similar, only discovering the bad news from their medics very much later afterwards. The?Three Degrees? featured heavily, as did, inevitably, Big Ron himself.

All in all, a lovely night, and one that certainly brought back memories in a flood of almost-unstoppable proportions. Well done also The Fart, whose questions flew thick and fast across the floor, to be fielded well by both halves of the dynamic duo?. Simon, too, greatly enjoyed the predominantly Hereford slant. Ally also accepted a cheque from Kiddy Branch for the Albion Old Players? Association; apparently, there are now well in excess of a hundred former Albion players enjoying membership of that organisation.

The thing to remember about most of our old brigade is this: those who need the most help at present are those whose careers largely spanned the time before the lifting of the maximum wage, back in the early sixties. Indeed, even for a very long time after all such restrictions on earnings had been removed, unless your name happened to be George Best, or, say, Bobby Moore, football wasn?t exactly the most financially-lucrative profession to follow. For every one that never had to work again after retirement from the game, there were at least a hundred more, toilers in the lower divisions, mostly, their twilight years spent in abject poverty, or, even worse, completely ensnared by addictive vices of one description or another.

And that?s where such donations really prove their worth; they go to assist those former Baggies favourites never in the big-money bracket when they played, but now experiencing severe hardship in the twilight of their lives. In some instances, they?re suffering from medical conditions brought on and made worse by playing football at that level, and lacking sufficient cash to have treatment done privately, suffering in silence while patiently waiting for their number to come up in the massive postcode lottery that calls itself the NHS these days.

And Finally?..One. There never has been very much love lost between myself and Dave Small, editor of the Blues fanzine ?Tired And Weary?, and since it?s all water under the bridge, by now, I certainly won?t trouble you with the gory details of the ?why? and the ?wherefore?, but I certainly had to take my mental cap off to the lad after I learned about the wonderful stunt he pulled on David Gold and all who sail in him recently. Say what you like about Dave and his publication ? which I frequently do, mostly apropos lamentable grammar, spelling and punctuation, not to mention the occasional inflammatory remark! ? for sheer animal cunning, you?d go a long, long way to beat this one.

It?s all to do with that whacking great casino and new ground Blues wanted to build in the Saltley area. As you may recall, when the government first intimated they wanted to relax existing laws regarding such matters, scenting a sure-fire money-making venture when they saw one, and David Gold having made quite a significant proportion of his stash in a similar line of work, Blues were in there, faster than greased lightning. And that was the basic problem, really; upon seeing what was proposed, a good many Bluenoses, Dave included, didn?t particularly want to move to Saltley, and they immediately vowed to stop the project right in its tracks. A tall order, sure; with around half a billion in the old piggy-bank ? as per the most recent Sunday Times Rich List - Gold is one hell of a wealthy Bluenose, and most ?proper? Bluenoses unable to rub two halfpennies together, but that was when Dave first had his wonderful ?Eureka? moment ? and this is what he did to well and truly see off the threat.

For the benefit of those exiled Baggies who don?t know Birmingham well, Saltley is a part of the city where most of the inhabitants are from ethnic minorities, the Islamic religion being particularly well-represented ? and that was Dave?s lever. As you may be aware, it?s a fundamental part of Islamic belief that gambling of any kind is expressly forbidden; even participation in the National Lottery is a definite no-no, so what did Dave do? Simple. He leafleted the area, bombarded them with enough to denude an average Amazonian rain forest of canopy, in fact, explaining precisely what it was that Blues were proposing to do, with particular emphasis on the casino issue; not only that, he let all the mosques in the area (and, by inference, the many imams that led prayers there) in no doubt whatsoever what manner of devilish thing was going to appear in their very own backyards before too long.

And Dave didn?t stop there, either; thanks to his Herculean efforts, the campaign was given quite an airing by the local media, too. Result? Well, you can probably work it our for yourselves; within a matter of days, such was the furore generated by that community, it wouldn?t have surprised anyone in the slightest to hear that Blues had been the unhappy recipients of an express-delivery fatwah, complete with a detailed Koranic forecast of where they would go once the earthly part of their life was over (clue: very hot, and full of unspeakable tortures, such as an eternity of having to read some of David Gold?s raunchier publications. And not a single complaisant young virgin in sight, either). After what amounted to an almost continual verbal bombardment on the part of The Prophet?s more devout believers, it?s not all that hard to guess the outcome, is it? It grieves me enormously to say it, but well done, Dave ? and that?s Gold?s head on a Bluenose plate for you ? errrr, oops, sorry, wrong religion! John The Baptist impersonations? Try the happy-clappy Christian outfit just down the road!

Two. Spooky or what? Today, while watching the Sky football show, and following the numerous last-day dramas gripping both Divisions One and Two, I learned of Oxford United?s doomed attempt to stave off relegation from the Football League, their rapid propulsion into the Conference, the club taking their place being one Accrington Stanley, of course ? just 44 years after the university town?s club first entered the League, by way of replacement for a certain Accrington Stanley, who?d gone bust in the very middle of that 1962 season!

And, as if that wasn?t enough, last night, when updating this same column, I just happened to espy on my desk a Reading pennant celebrating season 1985-86, which resulted in their promotion from the then-Third Division as outright champions, and with a record number of points, too. Blimey, I hadn?t even known we?d got it; must have been one of a great deal of memorabilia ?Im Indoors is trying to flog on Ebay right now. Why so spooky? Easy ? just twenty years further down the line, what do we see? Yep ? Reading winning their title in a walk, and with a record number of points in their Championship grab-bag, too! Come back, Doris Stokes, all is forgiven!

 - Glynis Wright

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