The Diary

01 January 2007: Southend - A Suitable Cause For Celebration?

Hi, everyone. I had planned to bask in the warm afterglow of our win yesterday, but our poorly cat first going missing, then our neighbour over the road turning up to say he?d found a black cat seemingly off its legs, and injured, so got the RSPCA to take it away, took the shine away a tad: he hadn?t known it was our cat, and as we were out at the time, he couldn?t check directly with us. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, once he?d told us, we got in contact with the inspector concerned (not easy, believe you me), then discovered our cat had been taken to their Barnt Hill animal shelter, believed to be a stray.

Having established it was our cat they had ? the news wasn?t good: hypothermia, respiratory problems, paralysis ? we shifted ourselves over there, battled with a load of bureaucracy, endemic in all big charitable organisations, I?m afraid, then actually got to see Cyrille, and spoke to the animal nurse on duty, an Aussie, strangely enough. Anyway, they?re keeping him in, shovelling antibiotics into him like they?re going out of fashion ? he?s also got a chest infection - then seeing how he goes. At the moment, I?m just glad to know he?s safe and well (well, as well as he can be, given the circumstances, I suppose). The original vet, the one that looked like Bernt Hass, was dead right: looks as though we?re rapidly reaching the end of the line with poor Cyrille.

So, on to other things, then. While we were on our way to the animal shelter, the heavens truly opened, tipping onto the Birmingham and Black Country areas the sort of rain the remainder of the country experienced yesterday. And what havoc it caused to the Saturday football programme: no less than FIVE games abandoned, one, the Watford-Wigan shindig, a Premiership one, while, in another, both sides were kicking balls in anger for NINE MINUTES only, when the ref decided to call it a day. Had it been me attending that one, I?d have been just a teensy weensy peeved. Know what I mean, ?Arry?

Regarding the Watford one, there?s an intimation in the scandal sheets that the ref, having only officiated at that level for two games, lost it a little: the way the tabloid versions read, it was fourth official Graham Poll calling the shots, making the decisions. Probably a half-truth, that: like anyone else new to a job, the moment you get problems, you speak to someone with lots more experience, don?t you? Better that than completely mullock the job, and land in bad karma with your gaffer. I?m sure that refereeing isn?t any different: the guy was keen to get it right, Poll was readily available, and ? triple World Cup bookings apart ? experienced. Allegedly.

Personally, I suspect there was heavy pressure coming from every which way you want to look for it, and not just in the case of that top-flight game, either. Even lower down the leagues, the abandonment of a game causes all sorts of problems regarding playing the fixture again, especially if you?re mired in heavy commitments already ? and then you?ve got vested interests in the form of both managers, both sets of players, the police, the stadium manager, supporters of both sides, Uncle Tom Cobbley and all, to consider as factors, when finally making your mind up what to do. No, it couldn?t have been easy: whatever the referee decides to do, there?s bound to be heavy incoming flak from someone.

So, what about our own game, then? In his post-match pow-wow with the Press, both local and national, Mogga heaped piles of praise upon his lads, particularly highlighting their ?honesty and endeavour?, and I can?t disagree for one moment. The awful conditions, never conducive towards skilful passing and movement, had an awful lot to answer for, especially during that opening thirty minutes or so. Even the late George Best himself would have found the working conditions distinctly unpleasant, never mind our own midfield. Talking to our neighbours further down the street, this morning, avid Baggies, the pair of ?em, I was quite surprised ? no, belay that, ?somewhat concerned? is a much more apt phrase to use, I reckon ? to hear that come the half-time break, as our players left the pitch, there were those among the East Stand crowd who felt sufficiently constrained to boo our lads as they went into the tunnel. Morons, the lot of ?em. I?d defy anyone to make an entertaining spectacle out of that unpleasantly aqueous first half: come on, even Alex Ferguson himself would have given it up as a bad job, I reckon.

Even then, after that comparatively awful start, once we?d passed the 30 minute mark, we then began to show brief glimmers of what was to come. The real killer, according to Mogga, was switching our main men up front around a bit. Come the break, and realising our main armament needed just a smidgen of additional ?jizz? to carry the day, he changed it slightly. Joe Kamara, who had started the game partnering Kev Phillips, was switched to the left, and Jason Koumas brought into the middle with Kev instead. As a tactical move, it sure as hell was devastating.

The second slice of the action? Our opener seemed to prove a tadge controversial for some, which is why I?m particularly grateful to Cyril Randle, who sent this regarding the legitimacy of our penalty, which an awful lot of reporters in today?s scandal sheets seemed to think wasn?t one. This what he has to say on the subject: ?According to some, we were given a penalty when it was 'ball to hand', which is NOT a penalty. However, with my trusty AIWA video and courtesy of Central, a 'frame by frame' shows very clearly: First, ball to LEFT ARM, then ball moves to right, and a hand comes out and shoves the ball out for a 'corner'. THAT was a penalty, and we should be pleased the ref got it absolutely right!? So there you go. The Mighty Oracle has spoken!

Once we?d breached the dam, so to speak, the game was opened up considerably. The visitors were left chasing it, which meant they had to take some risks in order to chuck additional bodies where they could do the most damage: that?s where our cutting-edge first started to kick in, of course. In the triumvirate I mentioned just a short paragraph or so ago, we have three of the fastest blokes since Billy Whizz, of comic strip fame ? and it began to show.

The brace of strikes apart ? and Jason?s had the hallmark of real class about it, for sure ? the one player I got to notice more and more, as yesterday?s game ran its natural course, was young Paul McShane, our recent defensive import from Man United, here in part-exchange for The Pole In Goal, as per the transfer deal done last August. And set to reach the ripe old age of 21, come the sixth of the new month, too. A bit dubious, I was, at first ? would he turn out to be a complete thug, the real reason why Fergie wanted to get rid in the first place? ? but as the season?s worn on, so have I warmed to the lad. Although nominally a lad, still, there?s lots about his play I really do admire. When he first came, the thing that primarily caught my eye was his close resemblance to a youthful Len Cantello: in fact, the simile isn?t all that far out, either mentally or physically.

Despite his tender years, Paul is certainly more than capable of putting himself about when engaged in defensive duties, and seems to find this ?no-nonsense? role a comfortable one, even when mixing it with the most robust attackers known to the Football League. ?When in doubt, either tackle decisively, or boot the bloody thing right off the park? seems to be his operational mantra: the ?John Wile School Of Defending?, in other words. Crude, ?tis true, hard as nails, yes - and not even remotely likely to get all those pontificating TV pundits all cross-eyed with sexual ecstasy, ever - but bloody effective, all the same.

While singing his praises to the highest heavens, perhaps it would behove me well to mention, at the same time, what I regard as his principal failing: to be absolutely fair, you?ve probably beaten me to the punch already, but I?ll still say it, mainly for the benefit of those not too well acquainted with the various foibles of our players. His awful temper, first, second, and third, every time. It?s not too easy to predict the precise moment when the red mist is likely to descend: just like a Baghdad-bound army lorry, he blows up within a matter of seconds, and completely without warning, too.

His aggressive nature also finds him right in the thick of incidents of no real concern to him. See a bad tackle go in on a team-mate, and he?s there, clenched fists to the fore. Loyalty to stricken fellow-players is all very well, but when it leaves him likely to be experiencing the wrath of the ref, and unnecessarily so, that?s when hasty diplomatic overtures are called for. That?s the time when you need someone like Big Dave about the place, able to intervene in a matter of seconds, pull the reprobate away before the incident escalates as far as outright dismissal, yet possessing sufficient experience and knowledge of the game (not to mention physical bulk!) for the lad to completely accept any advice subsequently proffered. Sure, I know his colleagues have already tried their best to keep him on the right side of match officials, but there have been occasions when he?s flared up like a combusting petrol tanker. Control that side of his game, and we?ll have a cracking little defender on our books. I really do hope we can get that side of things sorted, and soon.

Southend? Apparently, mobile-home-dwelling striker (Blimey, I?ll bet it?s as cold as hell at this time of year, despite the fact his is one at the very top of the range, and will have full central heating facilities anyway: lacking real insulating qualities, the things radiate heat to the heavens as surely as an outdoor patio heater will. I know, because we?ve got one ourselves! A decent static caravan, I mean, not a patio heater!) Freddie Eastwood will be back for this one, following recovery from a virus.

Mind you, tomorrow?s game might just represent his final appearance in a Sarfend shirt: with the transfer window?s opening imminent, there are reportedly several high-class outfits chasing to secure his services for the remainder of this campaign. As for the other half of the striking bargain, it looks as though Matt Harrold and Leigh Bradbury will scrap it out to secure a place alongside the 11-goal Romany wunderkind. Other Roots Hall news? They still lack Spencer Prior (groin) and Efe Sodje (suspended), so they?ll stick with Adam Barrett and Peter Clark at the back.

For our own part, we?ll have Paul Robinson back following that one-match ban of his. Given the punishing schedule our players currently find themselves involved with, it could well be we?ll be giving some of our hard-working performers a bit of a break for this one, even if only seated on the bench for the duration of the first half. What we shouldn?t do, however, is treat in an arrogant and/or complacent manner the magnitude of the task that will face us tomorrow. Unless they?ve already written off continuance of life in the Championship next season, Southend will be bloody desperate. And, as we all know, desperate sides frequently resort to desperate measures.

As I commented last Friday, to blow this one would be absolutely unforgivable. A win there would not only sort out the away-game ?hoodoo? we currently have hovering around our heads, it would also confer on our side a heap more confidence in their abilities than they?ve had in a very long time. We need that win badly, if only to enable us to push on further, sort out the other two away sides coming up within the space of the next couple of weeks, strugglers both. And, if possible, edge even closer to those automatic promotion places. Blues, a massive ten points in front, are well-nigh unstoppable, but as far as Preston goes, that?s not necessarily the case. Between them and us lies a difference of but four measly points ? and that?s not an unreasonable goal to achieve, by any means. As the famous Beatles song once put it: ?You?ve got to believe it?s getting better?.? After some initial doubts, I?m now most certainly a Mogga convert; how much longer will it take for the remainder of those doubters to come on-side, I wonder?

Oh- and another thought. It?s not completely escaped my attention we?re due to play Colchester at their place, come the 17th of February, either. They really do have a frightening home record: earlier on in the current season, they?ve gone and turned over outfits just as strong as ours with comparative ease. And, equally to my complete surprise, despite the best efforts of everyone in this division to do so, not one Championship outfit?s ever managed to suss them out, expose their principal weaknesses to public gaze, thus far. I wonder if we can succeed where far too many have failed?

Must have an awful lot to do with the sheer compactness of their place, I suppose: even when watching from behind the goals at Layer Road, you quickly get to appreciate just how intimidating close contact with an animated, possibly hostile, crowd can be, especially to players exclusively schooled in the ways of top-flight football, but having little, if any, experience of anything else. The way things are going there, right now, I?m currently trying (struggling?) to come to terms with the possibility, however remote, of Colchester actually getting into the play-offs come the cessation of hostilities proper ? then winning ?em! That small garrison town, so beloved of the Roman army also, in the Prem? Sure, laugh as much as you want, right now, but the joke could well be very much on the mockers, in but a few month?s time.

And Finally?.. A further word or two about our Southend jaunt. I won?t be going, and neither will The Fart, but we will be keeping in close touch with events via the various media. In any case, given what?s happened to my poorly cat, and my pressing need to stay close to the animal shelter, I doubt very much whether I?d have gone anyway.

As far as our players are concerned, though, they will travel down by plane early on, resting up in a nearby hotel afterwards, no doubt. All, that is, except four of our finest, Jason Koumas included. They?ve travelled by coach today, and are staying at a nearby hotel overnight (the same one as the others, presumably). Jason doesn?t give a specific reason, other to say that he prefers to dispense with what would be a pretty early start for him, and lacking sufficient input from the others, I don?t know what prompted them to remain earthbound either.

Probably a complete and utter dislike of travel by plane at this time of year, if truth were known. Apart from those blessed with the IQ of a Dingle, it won?t have entirely escaped the notice of those of you resident in the UK, that we?ve been experiencing severe winds of late, gusting to hurricane force, even, in some places. It?s at times like that when the potential convenience of jet travel very much takes second place to the raging certainty that, once in the air, you?re very likely to be renewing intimate acquaintance with the ?big white telephone? situated to the rear of the aircraft. Or closely investigating the waterproofing properties of the little white bag tucked neatly inside your seat pocket.

Conditions like those will quite easily cause even a 50-seater twin-engine jobbie to get thrown about the sky in a turbulent manner not dissimilar to that of the paper varieties most of us used to surreptitiously make ? then proceed to chuck around with complete abandon, once Teacher?s back was turned - when in the middle of double physics, and as bored as hell. Having been a passenger in a 747 taking off right in the midst of one of the late 1980?s windy whoopsies, I can readily empathise with Our Jase: it just isn?t funny. I can only hope that the main bulk of our side don?t experience similar, in but a few hours time. Two. May I take this opportunity of wishing every single one of you a very happy and prosperous New Year. May it bring everything we all want, players, management, directors, supporters - and, more importantly, in true traditional ALBION style.

 - Glynis Wright

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