The Diary

27 November 2006: After Stoke, Where Do We Go From Here?

Now that the dust has finally settled upon our abortive trip to The Potteries ? all bar the Lewis clan, who will have to face the Stokie music at both work and school tomorrow morning, of course ? what lessons can be learned from it all? One that?s about as obvious as fully-developed mammaries on a male stripper is the sad fact that we sorely lack players able to go and mix it as and when the overall tactical situation demands the presence of such people in the side.

As things stand, we?re now in eighth spot, while Blues, another side deemed by outsiders to have players of Premiership quality aplenty, lie safe in the relative fastness of their joint top position. So what?s the fundamental difference between the two, then? Well, you might want to argue it?s all down to the relative disparity between us and Blues, who have been far more consistent than we, of late, cleaning up 19 out of a possible 21 points over the course of the last seven or so games. Compare their record with ours: we?ve only managed to grab a measly seven points over the same period. You don?t exactly need the mathematical abilities of an Einstein to see where this is all heading come the end of the season, do you?

The penalty? Yes, it was one achieved by Stoke under very dubious circumstances indeed. In fact, my old mate Cyril Randle actually took the trouble of emailing me earlier today, commenting he?d now seen the play leading up to the award of the spot-kick in slo-mo (something I haven?t quite got around to, as yet, sadly), after which his considered verdict was that whatever the incident was, it was never a penalty! The alleged ?victim? had dived faster than a German U-Boat rumbled by a vigilant convoy escort, in other words, which more or less confirmed my original suspicions of last Saturday afternoon. Were it anyone else wanting to provide me with their own verification of what I?d thought I?d seen, I?d take it with a large pinch of sodium chloride crystals by way of accompaniment, but knowing Cyril as I do, when he says something looked well-dodgy to him as well, I?m far more inclined to go with his particular flow than reject what he?s said completely out of hand.

Just shows you how unfitted we are when it comes to mixing it with Championship outfits whose overall grasp of the Marquess of Queensbury Rules is sketchy at best, then, doesn?t it? They saw their big chance to cash in at our expense, and took it. We lacked the type of no-nonsense players to quickly put a stop to that sort of thing, and suffered as a result. Unless the problem is addressed, and soon, we?ll very quickly enter the ranks of the division?s ?also-rans?: now Stoke have put us to the sword so successfully, the word will rapidly get around among other sides lacking the necessary finesse to sort us out using legal means, and we?ll suffer accordingly.

That doesn?t mean to say we should abandon completely the laudable aims of our manager in wanting to dish up attractive attacking football for the troops. No, what I have in mind is getting in a couple of additional ?bruisers? to play up front as and when needed for that sort of game ? the likes of Geoff Horsfield, perhaps, or, at a pinch, a ?born-again? John Hartson, although I do suspect he?s now very much had his day as far as leading our attack?s concerned ? and stiffen up our resolve that way. If yesterday?s performance taught us anything, it was the complete and utter folly of expecting what Gary Megson once called ?tippy-tappy players? to adequately cope with the sort of fully-certified ABH merchants that Stoke have on their books these days. As do many other Championship sides, of course.

The proof of the Baggies pudding is most certainly going to be the way in which we react to that disappointing defeat this coming Tuesday evening, when Sheffield Wednesday host us at their place. I wasn?t planning to go, myself, on account of having to ask His Nibs, working the next day and therefore needing an early start, to pick me up at the Hawthorns at some unearthly hour or other, but tonight I had an email from The Fart saying that his chum was going, and did I want a lift with them? There will be a ?pay on the night? facility in operation there, apparently, the only snag being that a ticket purchased under those circumstances will cost around a pound extra, which is peanuts, relatively speaking.

Working upon the general principle that it?s grossly unfair to criticise someone or something without actually being present at whatever they?ve gone and done, good or ill, I?ve now decided to take Terry?s chum up on his kind offer, so expect to see me there. And a column telling it like it was afterwards. Yes, I know, people have been sectioned to their local psychiatric hospital by magistrates for compulsory treatment on grounds far dodgier than mine, but it?s all part and parcel of the general bump-and-grind of being an Albion supporter, I suppose. God only knows I have seen far, far worse in my time. A Don Howe/Ron Saunders/Keith Burkinshaw/Alan Buckley/Brian Little side, anyone?

As for our sundry heating and hot water woes, they continue apace. For a job only expected to last a couple of days at the outside, it isn?t half acquiring a life all of its very own, all of a sudden: all the fault of the complete and utter cretin who installed the blasted plumbing in the first place, of course. Tomorrow, the actual replacement boiler goes in, with the finishing touches applied come Tuesday morning. But that?s not the end of the matter, dearie me, no. Once both Norm and his apprentice ? well, his son, actually! - have quit the scene of the ?crime?, we then have to make good all the damage caused by us having the old boiler ripped out and replaced, plus removal of the hot water tank upstairs, and additional plumbing work done to the toilet cistern: at long last, our bog no longer forms part of the hot water supply! Rejoice, rejoice! In practice, that means a whole load of preparatory plastering for new tiling in the bathroom, replacement floorboards there, plus new carpeting. Yet more pernicious ?drip-drip-drip? for my sorely tested bank account, of course. Mad DIY-ers: doncha just love ?em, sometimes?

And Finally?.. One. For much of ?Im Indoors?s time at the place where he works, he?s enjoyed the presence of a colleague, a married lady, who just happens to live a couple of doors down from SuperBob?s place. Apparently, the urge to play football ? well, ANY sort, actually! ? still burns strong in our former goalscoring genius, which is why you?re far more likely to spot Supes indulging in a bit of a kickabout in the street, with all the local kids, than see him conform to the stereotype of quietly putting his feet up by the fire, and watching games on the box instead. As a result, his stock with the local kids has increased enormously; after all, how many chances do you get to play a genuine professional footballer in real life when you?re aged just 10 or 11? According to our informant, that?s why it?s not at all unusual to see kids banging on his door, then saying to his bemused missus: ?Can Bob come out to play, please??

Two?. ?Goodbyee, don?t sighee/ wipe a tear, baby dear, from your eyeee!/Though it breaks my heart to go/I?ll be tickled to death, you know!?? Yes, I know the Army are pretty desperate to recruit enough bodies to enable them to wage war on two separate fronts in both their Middle and Asian subcontinental theatres, but now I?ve heard the cotton-pickin? limit ? and it concerns ?Im Indoors, of all people. Apparently, as part of his job, one of my other half?s duties is to liase with the Armed Forces local recruiting offices to check what?s happening on the job front in this area for aspiring regulars and part-timers. Recently, this particular aspect of his duties brought him into contact with Oldbury TA, a splendid Royal Engineers unit mainly specialising in major work using heavy plant and machinery mainly in and around the battlefield, so I?m told.

But wires got crossed, somehow, when His Nibs rang them recently asking for some figures or other. Result? They promptly sent him a DVD illustrating beautifully the various sybaritic pleasures, geographical, financial, or otherwise, to be found only as a result of signing on for a lengthy period with the TA. Then, just a few days later, yet another. And that wasn?t all: the other day, he actually got a letter from them not only thanking him for applying to join the TA, but informing him his application was now being considered as a matter of priority, and they?d let him know the outcome as soon as possible. Ooer. The way this is all panning out, expect to see my other half popping up in either Iraq or Afghanistan very, very shortly!

 - Glynis Wright

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