The Diary

13 November 2006: Norwich: Mogga Seeks Answers - And So Do We!

Remember Friday night, when I made passing reference to what used to be known, in jocular terms, as ?The Suicide Club? i.e. those Army bods whose fielding and bowling skills on the cricket pitch qualified them admirably to handle and, eventually, chuck in anger, the familiar ?pineapple? variety of hand-grenade, the same sort that John Wayne used to prime by pulling out the pin with his teeth? (Squaddies! If you truly value the integrity of your gnashers, never, ever become sufficiently tempted - or desperate enough, because if it?s come to this, you are truly in the battlefield smelly stuff, and right up to your horrid little neck, too - to do it for real, because it just doesn?t work!)

Well, after Saturday?s distinctly unproductive Hawthorns malarkey, I?m now more than convinced that in our favourite football club, the prime motivating spirit of those not-so-tame 1914 military lunatics lives on forever. Let?s face it, chaps and chapesses: how else can you rationalise the various events leading to the loss of a game we should have completely sewn up within the first ten minutes, almost? How on earth can a side that hits the woodwork an incredible SIX times during the course of a game actually end up losers? If it?s not down to the ingestion of performance-diminishing substances on an industrial scale, then what the hell IS wrong?

To be absolutely fair, I can share some common ground apropos what Mogga?s on about regarding our current inability to grab points, and his continuing insistence that the attacking game is the only one truly able to guarantee the Baggies a fourth season of high-elevation fresh air and fun. As he said in yesterday?s post-match pow-wow with the Press, had we NOT been creating so many clear-cut scoring chances during games, then alarm bells would truly have clanged in his head.

Had things run even marginally kindly for us over the course of the last three, then it?s quite feasible that we?d have been giving high-flying Cardiff a bloody good run for their table-topping money long before now instead. Just suppose that of those six woodwork-bashing strikes yesterday, half of ?em had gone into the net instead? That would surely have left Norwich really high and dry: no, the issue?s not so much of a creative nature, it?s more about what our players actually do with the ball when presented with such a copious ammo supply, and half-decent opportunities to convert.

Could it be one of those ?negative feedback cycle? things, I wonder? In other words, allowing oneself to get into an awful rut of missing reasonable scoring chances, reacting badly to a barrage of (justifiable) supporter-ire following such events, and having such negative thoughts further reinforced through confidence lost in that painful fashion leading to even more awful misses later in the game? Casting my mind back to our successful FA Cup season, back in 1967-68, 3 points out of a possible 4 gained at The Dingles? expense apart, I can remember our first nine games that season being less-than productive. After the 4-1 Wolves home win, we had to wait until September the 30th before we saw another, Sheffield United falling by the odd goal in three in front of our own people. After that, we then embarked upon an incredible run of form that saw us rocket from the very edge of the drop zone in August, to the much-longed-for Sanctum Sanctorum of the division?s top six, come the festive season.

The point is that back then, after such an abysmal start for Alan Ashman, newly-appointed, just like Mogga, and similarly keen on his sides playing entertaining stuff, we then went on to hit the goalscoring mother-lode in fine style. In all that time, we only lost three, one at Coventry, another, much later still, at Goodison, the remaining one being the result of an early December excursion to Old Trafford, where we ended up crashing 2-1. After that, we did the double over eventual title-winners Man City, a feat that put us in a lofty sixth place, and it was only an enormous travesty of justice at Anfield ? we pulled a 1-0 deficit back to 1-1, only to see the home side awarded a suspect penalty, but not half as suspect as what happened when they actually took it, mind. Ossie saved the thing, brilliantly, too, but the referee then decreed the spot-kick had to be taken again. God knows why, but you can guess the rest. The Reds duly netted that one, then went on to win the game in a walk.

The Armistice Day 8-1 slaughter of next week?s Hawthorns opponents Burnley I referred to on Friday night is just one example of the sort of fare we customarily received from a side that was to finish that 67-68 campaign with The King grabbing a grand total (all competitions) of 35 goals, Chipper Clark 15, Bomber Brown 15, Yorky Kaye 6, and even Bobby Hope a cool 5. Our final League position? 8th, but don?t forget, for the greater part of the second half, we were somewhat distracted by what was to prove a very successful FA Cup run indeed for the club.

If we are to return to winning ways in similar fashion to that Ashman side, then it?s absolutely imperative that confidence is somehow restored, and the sooner the better. Once Earnshaw nabbed yesterday?s winner, you could see heads dropping all over the park. Mind you, just before he actually scored, I did express a certain fear to ?Im Indoors that as a cohesive unit, we were rapidly running out of creative ideas. Not five minutes after I?d said that, Earnie struck in devastating fashion, after which we could only collectively rue what truly might have been. How badly we degenerated as a side once the visitors took the lead; towards the final whistle, it got to the point where it seemed that every single time we regained possession of the ball, we were once more making the same elementary blunders, causing us to back-pedal time and time again. And all that negative stuff coming from both ends of the ground didn?t really help much, either.

Perhaps some sort of mutual compromise can be found in Mogga?s continual search for that elusive winning formula. Instead of constantly worshipping at the feet of The Great Attacking God, what about first stemming the tide on a temporary basis by importing, on loan, say, one or more of the division?s more ?robust? defenders? Even one sufficiently well-schooled in the defensive wiles of the Football League?s answer to the Kuyper Belt?s edge-of-solar-system Outer Darkness, Division Two, would help considerably. Goes very much against the grain for someone like me, raised as I am on the attack-minded philosophies of Jimmy Hagan, Alan Ashman (see above), Ronnie Allen, Ron Atkinson, and, much later still, Ossie Ardiles, of course, but if we?re to be truly serious about ?getting back in one?, then we?ve got to give proper thought to temporarily swallowing most of our high-minded notions, and nibbling, albeit ever so slightly, the defensive bullet instead. Once the ship?s been settled, we can then move on in much more positive and entertaining ways.

I genuinely want to see Mogga win through our current problems, if only for the fact that despite all these difficulties, he does seem eager to be on the same wavelength as grass-roots supporters, and does talk sense. Just the other day, The Fart told me that when he attended last Monday?s Supporters? Consultation Committee meeting with our chairman, who should be there as well, but Mogga and Mark Venus. I don?t know all that much about a blow-by-blow account of what actually went on there, but from what our well-ripened chum?s told me already, he did seem genuinely keen to talk with all those present, get their views an all things Albion, so he could get a much better feel for what the club?s all about at our level. I also strongly suspect that now he?s in charge, we?ll be seeing a far more positive relationship ?twixt both club and supporters than ever was the case in recent years. And that?s got to be a good thing, hasn?t it?

And Finally?.. (Oodles of incriminating stuff for this bit of my piece has descended thick and fast this weekend!?..) One. There was once a time when I really admired Luton manager Mike Newell for his proactive stance against managers and clubs who habitually conducted transfer dealings in a less than transparent fashion: indeed, it was only because of various concerns raised by him that the recent inquiry into football?s so-called ?bung culture? got off the ground in the first place, but I?ve now completely split the blanket.

Why? Easy one that. Because of his comments (rant?) in today?s papers apropos of women match officials, that?s why. It?s all about Amy Rayner, a female lino for Luton?s game with QPR yesterday: our latter-day champion of equal opportunities is seemingly of the blanket-opinion that women shouldn?t be officiating at our level at all, a point of view that?s hardly evidence-based, considering it?s all because of one allegedly-wrong decision made by the lady in question towards the end of just one game. Her ?crime?? She flagged for a corner rather than a goal-kick to the opposing side during yesterday?s game, and from that, QPR grabbed their winner.

I don?t suppose I?d have much luck trying to reason with the opinionated but clearly-miffed Mister Newell right now - mainly because he?s so tied up in trying to eject his dolly from his perambulator ? but here?s one thought for the gentleman (who might find himself without a job very soon anyway, mainly because of some more ill-advised comments he made about his own chairman at the very same press conference), and it goes like this: If you?re really so determined to pillory female match officials as a species on account of just a single debatable flag from one of their number, then I?m bloody glad you weren?t at a recent Albion midweek game, which had a MALE lino doing the job on the Halfords Lane side of the pitch.

The problem? The guy?s interpretation of what constituted a breach of the offside rules, that?s what: just about every single time Albion broke on that flank during the first half, up went Chummy?s bloody flag. Even Pavlov?s famous dogs couldn?t have demonstrated this guy?s conditioned reflex better. Sour grapes? Not a bit of it: for a couple of decisions, I was smack in line, and sitting about ten rows back as I do, it afforded me an excellent view of what happened. A precisely-plonked TV camera couldn?t have done it better. In any case, come the second half, I was distinctly amused to find the opposing side also ending up being penalised on account of this pillock?s incompetence. Pure idiocy, especially the sort that borders on near-genius levels, truly knows no boundaries.

And there was worse to come. On one memorable occasion, he even managed to flag someone offside while both men and ball were still in their own half of the field at the time the ball was played. Not an easy feat to accomplish, that, so please don?t give me that lorryload of sexist guff whenever a female gives you short shrift: my intelligence is not of the Dingle kind, and I can explain the offside law quite well, thank you very much, mainly because I?ve done so in the USA for the benefit of friends and acquaintances out there so many times. Before you take cheap pops at the female gender, it would behove you well to rant and rave about ALL linos found wanting, not just those who present an easy target. God knows there?s enough of them out there.

Two. It used to be said in political circles: ?God?s in His heaven, the sky is blue, the Tories are in power: all?s well with the world?? Well, I can now announce a vastly more pleasing variant on that theme, and it concerns we Baggies. Apparently, Adrian Chiles was recently invited to some Tony Blair bash or other at Chequers (the Dear Leader?s official country residence, in case you didn?t know). Didn?t he get one hell of a shock though, when, during the course of the proceedings, Teflon Tone suddenly called for silence.

When he?d finally got it, The Right Honourable Member for Trymdon then told the packed gathering that Ade had just been given some really bad news, so everyone had to be nice to him as a result. Great murmurings of sympathy throughout the room, of course. It was only when our tame Baggie finally expressed great puzzlement that George Bush?s bosom pal then came clean about Albion losing a game that very same day!

And the Albion connection doesn?t stop there, either: one of The Reverend Blair?s main advisers is also of the navy blue-and-white-stripe-loving persuasion, so I?m told. And there?s more: take a trip over the Big Pond to Washington DC, get yourself invited to some White House thrash or other there, and among the massed glitterati present at the function, you may well run into yet another Baggie with strong political connections.

In fact, he?s one of George Bush?s main speechwriters ? an occupation that positively shrieks for someone with a dangerously high IQ to successfully smooth over the more politically contentious of Dubya?s numerous public gaffes, ?tis true - much, much better than that, though, he?s a genuine blood relative of Tommy Magee, the diminutive Thirties Albion goalscorer. And he still maintains strong and frequent links with our borough: another close member of the family, an OAP, who lives in a block of flats not too far away from Sandwell Hospital, still keeps in regular touch, and told us, on a recent visit, that the Illustrious One still visits the family as frequently as ongoing White House commitments will allow. Want to know more? You?ll just have to read Simon?s book, then, won?t you?

Could both gentlemen be classic cases of ?Today The Baggies, tomorrow the world?? Ooer. Might be a bit of political theory that might cause potential worry to some concerned head of state or other, especially when you come to ponder the various pros and cons of the Buckley and Megson eras! Who needs ?weapons of mass destruction? when there?s a handy despot, loud-mouthed with it, you can rely on 24/7, almost?

A wafer-thin but heavily Albion-oriented end of the political wedge? One, moreover, destined to grow and grow, just like Topsy? Well, let me put it this way: were every single one of we Albion supporters allowed sufficient freedom to react as our peaceful nature rightly demands to world events at that level, this planet of ours would be a much happier place, of that I?m sure. Unless you?re a Dingle, of course, at which point all previously-espoused noble thoughts and views as to what constitutes a just society, however high-minded, would instantaneously sail right out of my personal window!

 - Glynis Wright

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