The Diary

21 August 2006: A Little Ray Of Sunshine Unexpectedly Lightens My Customary Cynicism

There?s an awful lot that?s wrong with the world right now ? politically, morally, ecologically, and in just about every other way you can imagine also - so I?m damn sure it doesn?t need words from me to provide you with news items perfectly illustrating that stark fact. Some news sources would have you believe the human race is fast going to hell in a handcart, and, as the amount of depressing news proliferates with every day that passes, it must take an astonishing amount of moral fortitude to enable those who really care for the future of this planet not to reach for the suicide pills themselves. After perusing the Sunday ?heavies?, constantly replete with tales of gloom and doom, even I despair sometimes.

But whilst in the midst of even the murkiest and most pyrotechnically-clamorous of thunderstorms, it?s not entirely unknown for sullen storm-clouds to part unexpectedly, instantly admitting to startled human gaze the most glorious fingers of radiant light ever to caress a rain-sodden landscape ? hence my inclusion of the following paragraphs into the opener for today?s piece, and it all stems from something I read before the Colchester game. Sitting in the Hawthorns Hotel yesterday, minding my own business, it was The Noise who quickly drew my attention to a programme item I hadn?t realised was there ? but once he had, the import of its subject-matter made me reassess very rapidly indeed my thoughts concerning the morals (or the alleged lack thereof) of the modern-day player. The item that had my pupils dilating to an extent not normally seen without chemical assistance? The page-long programme piece devoted to Roy Hayden?s 26 year-old son Steve, who died from leukaemia just a short while ago, that?s what.

Cyrille Regis; Bob Taylor; Ally Robertson; John Trewick; Graham Williams; Big Dave. All of these, plus many others connected with the club, the Reverend Hipkiss included, attended Steve?s funeral. It speaks volumes for the lad and his deep love for the Baggies that when it came to a send-off last Wednesday, so many of our former players actually made the effort to attend. Sure, these days, the back (and, increasingly, the middle) pages of most national newspapers are constantly full of lurid tales regarding some moral and/or sexual peccadillo or other perpetrated during players? off-duty hours: let?s face it, that?s the sort of thing that gives football the really bad reputation it currently ? erm ? ?enjoys? among the nation?s so-called ?chattering classes?, isn?t it?

That?s the unfortunate image the game has acquired amongst their sort over the years; in short, a thoroughly-reviled and totally over-hyped national pastime both played and watched by the Neanderthal-brains of this world. Totally wide of the mark, of course, and naughty of so-called intelligent people to generalise in such arbitrary fashion, but the shed-load of adverse publicity the game?s attracted over the course of recent years hasn?t helped its image one little bit. It?s good to be pleasantly surprised occasionally by the refreshing discovery that not all footballers have brains comfortably nestling inside their capacious wallet-pockets, isn?t it? Just don?t look for blanket coverage of the above story in any of the local or national press, mind ? more chance of my finding vast deposits of crude oil right in the middle of Bearwood.

On to other matters, now. I reckon that yesterday?s nerve-wracked last ten minutes against an increasingly-confident Colchester side more than gives me ample justification for once more asking Albion?s equivalent of the $64,000 question: with only just under a fortnight to go before the shutters finally come down on football?s equivalent of the Summer Sales, just what in creation are we going to do regarding our continual inability to grab ourselves an additional decent striker?

It?s increasingly looking as though transfer talks regarding both Fulham?s Tomasz Radzinski and Blackburn?s Shefki Kuqi have hit the buffers, and more or less before anyone Baggie talking serious turkey with either of the selling clubs. I gather that Radzinski, who some might recall scoring against us at Goodison Park the first season we tasted the supposedly-heady delights of the top flight, doesn?t want to leave London at all.

Kuqi? From what I?ve seen and read today, Blackburn are firmly of the opinion that far from wanting to chuck him down one of the 4,000 municipal holes made famous by the Beatles? song ?A Day In The Life?, they won?t even countenance losing his services at the moment, and in any case, should they subsequently change their minds, it?s highly likely the whole thing will turn into football?s equivalent of an auction anyway. If that happens, then forget it. Besides, ?Im Indoors tells me that today, he was on the bench for the Ewood Park mob. Not exactly diagnostic of the fact that Rovers are about to get rid, now, is it?

Meanwhile, there still remain certain issues arising from yesterday?s fixture. Despite his credentials, I still have grave reservations regarding the custodial abilities of Pascal Zuberbuhler, our replacement for The Pole In Goal. According to reports, our giant Swiss World Cup keeper spent four years training as a plumber before switching to football with Zurich Grasshoppers; oh well, some expertise in plugging leaks of any description has to be a prime qualification for any Albion keeper worth his salt, I suppose.

Perhaps it?s because that I?m so used to the astonishingly-high standards set between the sticks by our previous keeper ? last season?s Anfield fixture, when he almost single-handedly saved us from a right old battering at the hands of the Scousers especially springs to mind ? unless any such replacement possesses the DNA of former ?greats? like the late John Osborne, anyone following on from him has the devil?s own job of being accepted and assimilated into club folklore, and not only by this column, but by mainstream Baggie-lovers as well.

I don?t know about you lot out there, but what?s still giving me the willies about ?Zoobie?, as he?s now known among the Hawthorns faithful, is that unfortunate tendency of his to spill or drop the ball when trying to cut out awkward crosses/and or corners. Yet another repeat performance during the course of yesterday?s game could have had really unfortunate repercussions on our current points total. Is there custodial life after The Dear Departed Pole? Most certainly. To be scrupulously fair to the guy, he has played at international level, so he can?t be all that bad at his chosen profession, but until I?m finally rendered properly at ease in my Halfords Lane perch with the sight of our new lad about to defend an important set-piece, I do reserve the right to take into the ground quantities of strong tranquillising medication as and when deemed necessary by my long-suffering, Villa-supporting GP. OK?

Whisper it quietly, you lot out there, but in Chris Perry, I reckon we?ve yet again come up with a good ?un. Recently signed from Charlton, who wanted to get rid following their appointment of Iain Dowie at the managerial helm, his solid defensive performance yesterday convinced me that we?d got at least one signing right this term. What?s mostly impressed me about the lad is the unostentatious way he goes about his duties; most of the time, he?s our ?invisible man?, and it?s only when you start studying in much closer detail what he actually does during games that you realise what a tremendous asset he is at the back. A bit like when Tommy Gaardsoe was wowing ?em that second season we went up, if you like, and with clear potential to impress much, much more.

Personally, I would have given him my ?Man Of The Match? award on yesterday?s showing every time: what the prawn sandwich brigade were thinking in giving Greening the nod instead is totally beyond my comprehension. Perhaps it?s high time the West Midlands Police Drug Squad should drop in unannounced on their matchday corporate jollifications? Failing that, after well over 40 years watching our lot ? and tearing out more and more precious clumps of silvery-grey hair with every succeeding season I agonise over - I reckon I?m well entitled to a bit of chemically mind-altering action by now. Don?t you? Back on Wednesday night with a look at our League Cup London tryst with Leyton Orient the following evening. As it?s live on the box, and ?Im Indoors has to work the next day, we won?t be going, but The Fart will, apparently. Some chum of his connected with an Albion book recently published ? the one with photographs accompanied by various Albion supporters? recollections of various important fixtures in the club?s rich history ? rang him the other day and asked if he wanted to go. So he is. So there!

I can?t really say I share his enthusiasm, mind: now I?m virtually ?retired?, an early start the following day isn?t such a pressing issue for me, of course, and in any case, ?Im Indoors wouldn?t have minded in the slightest had I expressed an interest in going, but with me, it?s just that not many of my memories surrounding Brisbane Road are pleasant ones.

For starters, there?s that FA Cup Third Round tie we (allegedly!) contested at their place around 1985 or thereabouts. There I was, stood on a freezing-cold open terrace, with just about every part of my body sinking into a state of profound hypothermia ? and Orient grabbing a late winner for my sins. Some seven or so seasons later, under Gould, I was to make the long trip once more, but with ?Im Indoors for company that time. Same away terrace, same deal, essentially; not only that, but I do recall facing them in League action that same season, and loan signing Luther Blissett missing a nailed-on sitter from point-blank range! Has to be one of my ?bogey grounds? that one, so even though I won?t be there in person, I will in spirit.

Oh ? and my other half has valid cause for hating that trip also; on our way back to the Midlands and on the M1, our jalopy was overtaken by what appeared to be a Skoda! He?s far less ?radioactive?, now, but back then such occurrences my beloved regarded as a mortal insult to his soul. ?I?m not ***in? having that!? snarled my aggrieved other half, and promptly set about demolishing the upstart with the aid of the Almighty Combustion Engine.

The trouble was, every time he tried to overtake, the other driver simply stepped on the gas even more, a sorry and frustrating state of affairs to behold, even for those not entirely familiar with the vagaries of the horseless carriage: in short, the guy was driving a car that, in theory, should have had serious trouble trying to best a tatter?s horse-and-cart, never mind a jalopy possessing a much bigger engine capacity, hence my other half?s total fury!

In the end, poor Simon had no alternative but to give up the chase in complete disgust, muttering darkly all the remainder of the homeward journey about the offending vehicle being ?nothing more than ?a ****ing jumped-up Q-ship?, a term students of First World War naval history will be readily conversant with. In other words, a naval vessel cunningly camouflaged so as to resemble a distinctly-down-at-heel merchant ship, moreover one rigged so that it could rapidly revert to its ?proper? appearance should any prowling German U-Boat finally succumb to temptation. Even now, just the mere mention of the incident will provoke a violent reaction from my still-furious other half. With the above trauma still residual from past encounters with the lower-division mob, no wonder he much prefers watching the game from the comfort of his own armchair!

And Finally?.. Don?t even bother looking for Robbo?s assistant Nigel Pearson in the vicinity of Albion?s dugout during the Leicester home game on the 9th of September, because you simply won?t find him there, end of story. He?s just been hit with an FA ban for the one game, along with a ?900 fine, for saying some very naughty words indeed to match officials during our Premiership game with Blues late last season, following the award of a Blues penalty. That Leicester game will probably see him sitting in what used to be the directors? box, now in use for the benefit of commercial sponsors and the like, the right side of which is situated about ten decibel-laden yards from where I sit. And that?s the real crux of my problem, Baggie-peeps.

After experiencing a mega-dose of Gary Megson bawling his head off from that part of the ground following a similar ? but much lengthier - ban around five or six seasons ago (the multitude of little bones inhabiting both my inner ears have never really recovered from the resultant acoustical trauma, honest!) I?m now left a little wary of what might happen on the day. Understandably so, some might contend. Now faced with the unpleasant possibility of a repeat performance, I can only hope that Our Nige, totally-repentant by then, will confine any remarks about the progress of the game to vague but dark mutterings, and no more!

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index