The Diary

18 December 2006: Curtis Davies, Come On Down! The Price Is Right?

So ? how was it for you, then? Yesterday, I mean? Stupendous? Marvellous? Orgasmic, even? Don?t laugh: just a few years back (well, autumn 1995, actually) I remember coming back from Oldham, in the Dickmobile, and with both The Fart and The Noise in tow. We?d just won there, after quite an interesting scrap, and, if I remember correctly, SuperBob eventually settled the issue by managing to pot what eventually turned out to be the winner.

So spectacular an effort, and at so crucial a time in the game, was that winning strike: during the course of our post-match discussion, The Loquacious One From Stoke, in a manic vocal pitch extremely suggestive of the unseen hand of an aggrieved Dingle exerting an iron grip upon his family jewels, so hyped up by the unexpected turn of events, was he, suddenly declared himself willing to ?woo it (the goal, I mean, not Mr. Taylor!): buy it a fish and chip supper: make mad passionate love to it: marry it: then go and have loads of lovely kids by it!?.? Ooer.

It?s certainly true that when our former co-editor uttered those unforgettable words, he was, mentally, at least, flying at an altitude of 30,000 feet, but I do know where he was coming from when he said it. (Errrrr, Oldham?) Yeah, giving a side a ?right seeing-to? can result in the rapid outpouring of emotions on a scale only paralleled by the successful consummation of ?relations?, marital or otherwise: maybe was that why so many walking out of the ground after yesterday?s game had bulges in their trousers highly-suggestive of incipient coital release? Or were they just pleased to see me?

Hormonally-aroused or not, aware, or unaware, at least our followers managed to win one small battle yesterday, and that was in the area of ?creating atmosphere?: despite the best efforts of the sponsors to get Baggie people jumping around to order, it was the visitors that truly stole the show in the end. Their incredible ardour had about as much to do with artificially-supplied passion as John Prescott does with anger management training. No wonder the Coventry gaffer consigned their entire first team, substitutes included, to the front of their enclosure, come the final whistle. If ever a group of fans deserved a final-whistle accolade from their favourites, they surely did.

And I hope our sponsors now realise that trying to gee up crowds in the synthetic manner they?d originally intended can quite easily backfire. Leave that sort of cheap razamatazz to American football and/or baseball enthusiasts, or those who are duty-bound to attend party political conferences on an annual basis, even: at least it gets them well out of harm?s way, and out of sight, if only on a temporary basis. The most dangerous animal in the world, that: a power-dressing, clipboard-carrying party canvasser knocking on doors just before an General Election! Lock ?em all up and throw away the key, I say.

It?s not only our local flora and fauna that are getting somewhat dazed and confused by the unseasonally-high temperatures, right now. It would seem that the same bizarre process triggered the Sunday Mercury to burst forth with a nice juicy bit of gossip today. (Mind you, whatever the season, the Mercury tend to wallow in juicy scandal in much the same way as a prize porker wallows in ? erm ? ?poo?.) According to them, Curtis Davies is off to the Villa come the opening of the transfer window this coming January.

Having said that, if this one?s on the level (after all, I could well be doing them a disservice), then the stamping-and-clapping fraternity will just have to join the back of the queue of clubs already expressing interest in obtaining our England Under 21 defender?s services. That means The Arse: Spurs: Pompey, and Wigan. Of those, The Latics have already tried to put their money where their mouth is: the offer on the table from them was ?10 million, apparently, but I don?t rightly know the outcome of that one.

In any case, they seem more interested in getting Nathan Ellington back at the moment. To be perfectly honest, and digressing for a moment, I?d let The Duke go, were the decision mine to make. Judging from what seems to be a total lack of enthusiasm about his game, thus far this season, it?s clear to me that wherever he sees his future career going, it?s not in the direction of The Hawthorns.

Another offer for Curtis came from Spurs, who tried tendering exactly the same sum we paid Luton for him, ?3 million: with that derisory amount on the table, and bearing in mind the lad?s great future potential, I can only assume that the reply the White Hart Lane bunch eventually got from us ended in the word: ?Off??

Assuming it is going to end up in an escalating ?bidding war?, come the New Year, what?s in it for anyone wanting to bid for his services? Or, more to the point, what?s in it for Mister Davies himself, should he subsequently allow himself (or, more likely, his agent!) to be wooed, then fully swayed, by the blandishments, monetary or otherwise, of one particular suitor, and not the others?

Villa? According to the piece, Martin O?Neill seems to think Curtis would make an admirable defensive partner for Olof Mellberg. The Arse? At the start of the season, they thought they?d solved their defensive problems by signing William Gallas from Chelski for ?5 million. Trouble was, though, he went and got himself injured not long afterwards, which meant they were suddenly left on their beam-ends. They only have Phillipe Senderos and Johan Djourou fit in central defence, these days, with Kolo Toure also ruled out by injury. Sure, they?re saying they?re not interested in the player, right now, but you all know how these things work in football ? or should do, by now. A ?no? can quite easily mean ?maybe? when it comes to transfer dealings, so I wouldn?t rule them out of the hunt by any means. Well, not yet.

Spurs and Martin Jol? If there?s ever a ?Curtis Davies Fan Club? started, then the White Hart Lane head honcho, a former Baggie himself, of course, would find himself eminently qualified to be its inaugural President. So great is his admiration for the lad, perhaps they should declare a union under the new Civic Marital Rules? He wants Davies in a sort of ?kick up the jacksi? role for Ledley King and Michael Dawson. Jermaine Defoe is rumoured to want away also: if that one?s on the level, then our former mad Dutchman would have no problem whatsoever stumping up the necessary ackers to make the thing a ?goer?.

We next turn our attention to Pompey, a club that?s coming to resemble the home for a religious retreat more and more with every single day that passes. Just today, I read in one of the ?heavies? that come matchdays, well before kick-off, their dressing room is completely emptied of ?unbelievers? so that the God Squad can all indulge in some vital pre-match ?knee-drill?. Their mission? (No, not the God Squad, just Pompey.) To get him partnering Sol Campbell, apparently. Money wouldn?t be a problem either, as the club?s new owner has promised additional funds come January.

The Mercury seem to think that the final asking price for the lad will be somewhere in the region of ?6 and ?8 million: that?s only the starting point in any negotiations, of course, what with everything likely to hinge upon the delicate subject of ?personal terms?. Right at this very minute, his agent will be carefully girding his negotiating loins for the undoubted ?slave auction? to come. Some might disagree with me in this, but if it were left to me, I?d take the money and run. I await future developments with interest.

It?s interesting to note that the same Mercury article also cited Zoltan Gera as another very likely to be on the way out come the New Year. Now that wouldn?t surprise me in the slightest: his form?s nowhere near as red-hot as it was when we inhabited the top-flight, just a calendar year ago. These last few games, he?s been struggling to justify automatic inclusion in the side, and remained on the bench until fairly late in the game yesterday. Has he been ?tapped up?, I wonder, and if so, by whom? A lovely way of repaying the club?s faith in him, I don?t think: after all, when he?d first come to The Hawthorns, it was under a something of a cloud, and one involving past misdeeds with naughty things, his subsequent first team duties for Albion ? including some pretty spectacular strikes, it has to be said - providing him with sufficient media exposure for his name to enter the little black books of not a few well-known Premiership gaffers with great rapidity.

Given the alleged interest shown in these players by bigger clubs, you do have to wonder whether or not Jason Koumas and/or Joe Kamara will find themselves the subjects of strong transfer speculation come the opening of the ?window?. With Kamara, it seems to be his agent making all the noises: rumour has it Roma are sniffing, but I?d be inclined to want to hang on to him, until the end of the current campaign, at least. After all, it?s not as if we desperately need the money, is it?

The same thing applies to Koumas. To be perfectly honest, were ?push? to come to ?shove?, and hard decisions become necessary, that guy is the one Albion player I?d want to hang on to, come hell or high water. (Yes, I know, just a few months ago, I?d opined that uber-mardyarse Koumas was about as welcome in our side as a bad case of herpes, but that chronic attitude problem he had back then has since been ?cured?, thank goodness.)

Once he?d ceased throwing his dolly from out of his pram, and started acting like a rational adult, and not a spoilt child in similar mould to the famous Violet Elizabeth Bott, of the ?Just William? books ? ?If you don?t do A. B. or C, RIGHT NOW, I?ll thqueam and thqueam until I?m THICK!? - his undoubted quality has blazed forth across the Hawthorns heavens as brightly as any visiting comet.

It was no coincidence that a goodly part of yesterday?s Sky Blue stonking was down to the remarkable creative talents of the former Tranmere lad. As I?ve said before, as far as Jason?s concerned, you can quite comfortably apply the same argument the late Bill Shankly did apropos Bobby Hope, around 40 years ago: ?Stop him (Hope), and you stop the Albion,? was his pre-match mantra. The same sentiments apply now. It?s only the name that?s changed. Keep him.

My thoughts now turn to those of Ronnie Wallwork, still recovering after that awful stabbing incident in a Manchester nightclub recently. It?s only today I was given a fairly good idea of what injuries he sustained, and how bad they were. According to the report I saw, he?s now the not-so-proud owner of an amazing surgical scar, running right from his chest to his abdomen. He?s also got residual tendon trouble (I believe it was completely severed at the time), and that still has to be fixed surgically, of course.

The scar would be the legacy of all the surgery he underwent immediately after the incident, of course. He?s still having trouble breathing, apparently, which suggests to me that one way or another, air was introduced into his chest cavity, resulting in the collapse of a lung. He?s bloody lucky: there?s more major blood vessels in that part of the body than you can shake a stick at, not to mention the small matter of his ticker being located there also. His stomach, and all stations west? Normally, all that internal digestive piping lives in complete harmony with its surroundings, the design being such that under normal circumstances, it?s bloody difficult to contaminate the stomach cavity outside with the soon-to-be-pooh inside. Or muck introduced from outside, even. They just don?t get the chance to meet. Get stabbed there, as Ronnie was ? or just have a careless surgeon slip when wielding the scalpel: it can happen, rarely ? and you?ve got a whopping big contamination problem on your hands.

Infection can quite easily set in under those circumstances, and once established, you?ve got yourself a nasty case of peritonitis, a condition that really can be life-threatening. That?s what carried off a fair number of First World War casualties left ?hanging on the wire? after the first day of a ?Big Push?: gaping stomach wounds made much worse by not being able to rescue these people from the filth of No Man?s Land quickly enough to stop infection introduced from the outside in its tracks. No antibiotics then, to stop the rot, either.

Whichever way you want to look at it, Our Ronnie?s a very lucky boy. He was also fortunate that when this happened, the person that wielded the knife never managed to hit a major blood vessel, of which there are loads snaking in and around the stomach cavity. Had that been the case, then it could so easily have been a very close-run thing. Or much, much worse. Was his fitness a major factor in his ability to survive the initial trauma: had it been plain ordinary Joe Soap, and not a professional footballer on the table, would the outcome have been so good, I wonder?

The way Ronnie spoke in the piece, he?s aiming to get back into playing mode before the end of the current season. (Sure, there?s still the outstanding business of the tendons to sort out, but as he?s not a keeper, it wouldn?t really hurt for him to play without the problem being properly resolved. Having said that, neglected, such problems can lead to muscle wasting and subsequent permanent weakness there.)

To be perfectly honest, I?d be absolutely astonished were Ronnie able to put on an Albion shirt in earnest that quickly. He?s only recently had a major operation to fix all the damage to his innards and chest (and as I?ve pointed out already, the latter will have left him with other nasty problems to resolve), will have lost an awful lot of blood, so he really needs to regain his strength before Nick Worth et.al can finally get their hands on him.

Still, he seems to be a pretty positive, upbeat sort of soul ? well, anyone who can survive the ire of the Hawthorns boo-boys, then somehow go on to become something of a cult figure at the club, has got to have something good going for him, hasn?t he? ? so I?m sure he?ll give his eventual convalescence and recovery his very best shot. Get well soon, Ronnie. You never know: by the time you recover properly, we could be back in the Prem!

And so, another one bites the dust. Back this coming Friday, by which time all you lovely Baggie people will have well and truly decked your balls with bells and holly (hang on a mo, that doesn?t read quite right to me!), and turned your back upon your various places of employment in good time for the commencement of the mandatory Christmas blow-out. But not our players: there?s the small matter of a trip down the M5 to Plymouth Gargoyle Territory to be sorted first. And as we?re playing on Boxing Day, and the opposition are high-flyers Preston, we sure as hell need to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed for that one. Or something.

And Finally?? More about Zoltan. No, not Gera, just Jean Homer?s cat. With a name like that, it?s quite natural to assume that her favourite feline is in possession of at least some footballing ability. And that is indeed the case: according to Jean, whenever she or John slip an Albion tape or DVD into their respective players, that?s when Puss really comes to life. Up to their TV set he trots, tail in the air, then proceeds to bash the screen for all its worth in a serious attempt to wrest possession of the ball from the likes of Russell Hoult, or Jason Koumas. Sometimes he even tries to assist the ball in its rapid flight from Baggie boot to back of net: yep, Jean, that?s my boy!

 - Glynis Wright

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