The Diary

04 September 2003: Bluenose Blitz!

Greetings, everyone. As today is the anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War, I?m going to kick off tonight?s effort by announcing I?m thinking of declaring hostilities of a different sort before too long. Blimey, am I not in a good mood. As if going down at Blues to the tune of three goals without reply wasn?t enough, while I was there, I was attacked by a bunch of predatory bloodsuckers. No, nothing to do with their board (although I do wonder, sometimes), just that for some reason unknown to me, and probably to biology as a whole, a huge colony of biting gnat-like things have taken to St Andrews like a duck to water, and to me like a house on fire: it?s all down to pheremones, I understand, but since when has the biochemical make-up of Albionites and Bluenoses been that similar? Conclusive proof that my dermal territory had been well and truly violated was amply provided by the numerous itchy lumps and bumps I sported on various exposed parts (ooer, missus!) of my body after the game.

Perhaps I should have taken appropriate precautions beforehand, because this isn?t the first time I?ve suffered in this way at our local rivals? lair. I remember a pre-season friendly, about eight or so years ago, where we flogged Dicks like crazy outside their away end on what proved to be a seriously hot and muggy summer afternoon. Despite liberal applications of jungle-strength insect-repellent, purchased in America, and guaranteed efficacious against most of life?s buzzing nasties ? though I have to say George Bush Junior wasn?t specifically mentioned on the label - just like the bomber, the little sods eventually got through, and I was still scratching furiously late into the night. Of one thing I?m sure; according to the newspapers today, there?s around a million to one chance that we?ll get ours in 2014 courtesy of a rogue asteroid, so if it does head our way, I hope Ground Zero is a certain football club in the Small Heath area. Not that we?d know a lot about it, mind, but at least I?d dissipate with a stupid great grin on my face.

Now ? where was I? Oh yes. Tonight?s game. Two days previously, we fully expected to be watching this encounter at Solihull Borough?s ground ? that?s not far from Birmingham Airport if you?ve never ventured there before ? but for some reason, the event was switched to St. Andrews late-doors. Luckily, a lot of Baggies saw the change of plan as advertised on the official website, and headed for the new venue ? but not all did. One poor sod ? Yes, Tim, I mean you - not knowing any better, actually turned up at Borough?s ground; the complete and utter absence of any activity whatsoever there was a pretty good giveaway Plan B had been put into operation instead. Oops! I wonder how many others were caught that way?

Anyway, we arrived at about 6.45 pm, and thinking their old stand would be open for business, made a bee-line for that part of the ground. Wrong ? so, a quick tootle through the back-streets later (a nearby pub advertised an Anne Summers party: funny, I?d have thought people living in that sort of area would have ?progressed? much further than that!), we finally fetched up in their main car-park. No charge, though, which suggests Blues missed a trick there: not like them, it has to be said. Inside, then, and all for four quid, the same charge as last year. Once through the turnstiles, a ?brief encounter? with Mike Thomas and Linda ? them, miss a reserve game? Is the Pope a Catholic? ? and an even briefer pause while ?Im Indoors exercised his bladder-muscles. While waiting, a certain ?something? caught my eye. ?Dugarry?s Den?, it was, a little recess bearing the bloke?s full-sized photo ? and situated right next to the gents? toilet entrance! What is it they say about a picture painting a thousand words?

Into the seating proper, then, and a fair-sized crowd, it has to be said. Most of ?em Bluenoses, but a fair sprinkling of God?s own people also, including the redoubtable Anc, who came to exchange pleasantries shortly before the start, and our very own Steve The Miser, plus son David. As ever, his visit concerned business as well as pleasure; within seconds of the pair decamping in our vicinity, there was a huge box of envelopes in our possession, also some material for the next issue of the Dick. Oh, and our resident Prince Of Parsimony also took it upon himself to have a sneaky snitch at our new camera, games, for the use of. Wanted to ensure he was getting full value for money, I suppose, though how you can further improve on something that gives you pictures without incurring processing or film charges ? ask me one on sport!

The game? Well both Big Bertha and Alanasse N?Dour were on display, the latter for the first time, tonight. N?Dour definitely looked the part, and might well give Clem a few sleepless nights once he?s settled in. Big Bertha? Perhaps I?m a tad biased because I previously saw him in action in Denmark, but he really had his hands full at times tonight. Lots of senior pros in the side, and lots of bookings as well. The goals? The first came from a corner, the second from a penalty. The third? A thoroughly career-stopping whoopsy on the part of our keeper, Danny Crane. Our sole consolation from tonight?s fiasco was the sparkling form of Lloyd Dyer. Time and time again, his sheer pace left his opponents for dead, and such enthusiasm really does cry out for some proper reward. Not that Megson would know, mind, he certainly wasn?t at St Andrews, as far as I could see. Such is our manager?s seeming antipathy towards home-grown players, though, I fear that some other club will derive full benefit from Lloyd?s talents before many more suns pass the yardarm. There?s a fuller match report courtesy of my other half elsewhere on this site, but it?s worth remembering that this time last year, Blues were also our opponents at reserve team level, the only difference being the game was played at our place, not theirs. We were the winners by the same emphatic margin, and, as I recall, fully deserved to be, but perhaps tonight?s result was alarmingly indicative of how far our paths have diverged, of late.

One other, more noisome, shall we say, aspect of tonight?s game was the somewhat-unwelcome presence of three of their supporters in the seats immediately to the front of ours. If ever you wanted stereotypical Bluenose behaviour, there it was, not so much on a plate as garnished with a ruddy great apple stuck in its mouth as well. Every other word was something it?s not usually advisable to repeat in front of impressionable kids, and every refereeing decision against their favourites was greeted with a well-known hand-gesture signifying considerable self-abuse. All were wearing replica shirts, two of which sported the numbers ?69? ? yes, that sort of mentality ? and ?2?. All adding up to 71, which was, presumably, their collective IQ. At least they shoved off during the interval; trouble was, which part of the ground got their nuisance instead?

And finally?? One. Some of you may have heard recently that our training ground is now closed to the public. And so it is, technically speaking, but for the benefit of those who like to go there on a regular basis, there is a way around the problem ? and thank your Uncle Anc for revealing all! The problem arose in the first place because the club recently erected a wire fence that completely encircled the complex. We?d known this was going to happen for ages; the reason given was to prevent people walking their dogs on the pitches (how would you like getting a cut leg, then suddenly finding you?d also exposed it to a great pile of doggy-doo-doo?), and also to put a stop to local kids having a crafty kickabout there after hours; it didn?t totally surprise us when we heard access by the public was going to be restricted also. The good news is that it?s still perfectly possible to watch the lads train from the top of the bank outside the fence ? and if you don?t believe me, our friend Anc has the pictures to prove it!

Two. Remember The Three Degrees? No, not the pop group of that name, the Albion trio who, because of their celebrity and the colour of their skin, were given the same monicker way back in the late Seventies. Cyrille Regis, Laurie Cunningham and Brendon Batson were the Baggie lads concerned, of course. Albion, being uncharacteristically forward-thinking in giving black players their chance at the time, benefited greatly because of this ground-breaking move. The side that turned out for The Baggies during that time was acknowledged as one of the most exciting in the country. Not that having black players was a universally-accepted innovation; racist chants, monkey-noises, and bananas thrown on the pitch by opposing supporters were about par for the course in those days. Anyway, if you were around at the time, or you?d like to hear about what it was like to be black and play football during that era, there?s a programme coming soon on Radio 4 that just might float your boat. ?Three Degrees West?, it?s called, and it?s being broadcast at 11 am on Monday September 8th. Tune in and have a listen ? you know it makes sense.

Three. As we?re going to see Hereford play Farnborough Town at their place, then go directly to our caravan in Herefordshire afterwards, this might well be the last diary entry for over a week. Whether I ?produce? again before departure will depend entirely upon the emergence of some earth-shattering Albion news into the public domain. Mind you, it could happen. I see betting on The Soup Dragon landing the West Ham managerial post has intensified; a few days ago, the bookies were giving 50-1 on this happening, now, the odds have crashed to an astonishing 8-1. All the result of a recent flurry of bets on ?yer man?, I understand. Do they know something I don?t?

 - Glynis Wright

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