The Diary

12 January 2007: For One Nite Only - That Famous Footballing Act, Newbon And Farmer!

It?s usually a worthwhile sort of exercise, going to supporters club meetings: OK, the speakers, very constrained as to what they can actually reveal about our football club, generally end up spouting all the usual dreck ? ?we want this club to get promotion: we?re Albion players through and through, our gaffer?s great, we all worship the very ground he walks upon, and would never, ever consider going behind his back and engineering a move to a bigger club, perish the very thought? ? but sometimes, just sometimes, you get speakers that are a cut above the rest. OK, they, too are largely bound by the heavy iron shackles of what?s pertinent to tell supporters and what isn?t, but with one valuable difference: they can at least put on a convincing act, and while doing so, bathe breeze with their audience until the cows come home.

Tonight?s meeting was at Sutton Branch, and their guests Gary Newbon (well known TV personality, and prominent Onanist, if chanters of football songs the entire length and breadth of the country are to be believed, and Jeff Farmer, former media man, and now Albion director. Well, one of ?em.

As per usual, Sutton did their branch reputation no harm at all by bowling their various posers in a manner which over-aggressive Aussie and West Indian Test cricketers would be proud to call their own, and their guests responding splendidly and honestly to each and every question flung at them.

Terry was the first to bat, wanting to know the difference between an ?executive? and ?non-executive? director of a football club. One for Jeff, that: an ?executive? chap drew a salary from the club for their trouble, while their non-executive? counterparts were there on the shareholders? behalf, acting as checks and balances on the activities of their paid colleagues, and ensuring that whatever they did was in their shareholders? best interests.

In Jeff?s case, he acts as press liaison officer, more or less: his extensive media background makes this quite an easy role to play at the club. As for Joe Brandrick, his other non-executive boardroom counterpart, he?s principally in charge of club memorabilia, both display and acquisition in the first place. The way things are going, apparently, Joe has more than enough in his collection to fill the display cabinets, etc. he?s currently got.

The Fart?s question was Number One of a double-header, the second asking what the protocol was for either setting the wheels in motion for a foray into the transfer market, or initiating negotiations on a player the club wanted. Many ways, apparently, from the player himself, the manager ? transfers at Albion seem to be managerially-initiated, both ways ? and after that, the chairman is mainly responsible for talking turkey with the buying/selling club, but with the involvement of other directors, sometimes.

Naughty Terry also asked how people like Newbon got their information. From a variety of sources, obviously, both official and unofficial: it?s all about cultivating and keeping good relationships between manager, chairman and himself. Very little comes from agents. Jeff didn?t want to get drawn about the Rowan Vine issue (he?s now a Bluenose, apparently).

Gary Newbon did point out that there was a lot of misinformation out there, a lot of it agent-perpetrated. Panicking clubs into buying/selling was one of their favourite tactics, apparently. They feed stories to the papers because it?s in their interests to do so, and so-called ?bungs? were an open secret, but very difficult to prove. Another problem is where an agent acts for both player and manager: Albion?s policy is that any payment (to agents acting for both parties) has to be sorted out by the players themselves.

Newbon holds the not unfamiliar view that agents are ripping the game off. It?s a curious fact of life that some chairmen, hard-nosed as anything you like when it comes down to sorting a favourable business deal, have such an enormous weak spot when it comes to sorting out transfers. These problems are exacerbated enormously by the sheer weight of expectation put onto the broad shoulders of directors and managers, should supporters, sponsors, media etc. feel their club?s not doing enough in the transfer market.

Very scathing was Newbon, too, when talking about Villa supporters. He does have a soft spot for Doug Ellis, though! We also got, from Gary, the real story of what (who?) was behind Delia Smith?s deliciously-sozzled half-time ?Let?s be ?avin? you?? imprecation to Norwich supporters ? perhaps I?d better be a tad tactful on that one. And talking about embarrassing episodes generally, quite a few giggle-making ones apropos Jimmy Greaves, when he was doing football stuff for Central, and his wonderfully-chaotic way of getting long or unfamiliar words all mixed up when doing a programme live, and on-screen. One such had him totally mispronouncing the word ?meningitis? (the piece was about Gary Birtles, then a Forest player, dramatically rushed into hospital, suspected of having contracted the disease) every time in rehearsals, which had the TV studio staff putting big money upon him stuffing up the live version big-time. But Greavsie, the ultimate survivor, found a way round it. How? By substituting the phrase ?serious illness?, when it came to the ?live? take!

Mind you, there were numerous other times when even his genius for improvisation couldn?t get him out of that inevitable ?isn?t it hot in this studio?? moment. And there were others when the cock-up was totally of Gary?s doing, like one of the very first times he ever reported on a game, wishing the viewers ?a happy weekend?, in spite of the calendar saying, quite clearly, that today was Monday!

Favourite managers? For various reasons, Gary rates Arsene Wenger highly, also Alex Ferguson, mainly because of the 100 per cent he puts into the job. Jeff Farmer had a bit of a soft spot for Cloughie, actually, fondly recalling the moment, back in the early 90?s, when the former Forest gaffer, quite clearly in his cups, managed to get the entire studio, cameramen, production staff, compere, the works, singing Frank Sinatra songs, and only stopping literally fractions of a second before the whole thing was due to go out live! Luckily, Cloughie had so much of a commanding presence on screen, and such a beguiling manner with it, most media people could readily forgive quite a lot of what he did.

Players? Gary espoused much the same views as this column regarding relationships between the media, players, and supporters. Players now seem to have so much money in their pockets these days, they?re becoming quite cynical about the way they behave, both on the field and off it. There?s a distinct lack of respect among them, something closely linked to the acquisition of enormous wealth at a very tender age indeed. And gaining an entirely-unrealistic view of their own importance, too. ?Nuff said.

There was also a delightful story from Gary about the day when Central sent a camera team along to cover an Albion game versus Blackpool that didn?t know the slightest thing about football. Result? Pretty predictable: Albion won a free-kick, right on the edge of the box, and not quite realising what a dangerous force he was unleashing on his unsuspecting public, Gary screamed at his camera bods, via the mike: ?GIVE ME THE WALL?.? Which is precisely what he got, dear reader, and a particularly fetching red-bricked variety, too, apparently. Meanwhile, on the pitch, Willie Johnston had put one away for the Baggies, and they?d all missed saving the precious moment for posterity completely!

We then turned to the alleged ?gravy train? that clubs is Europe had access to the very minute they qualified. Not as far as the UEFA cup was concerned: taking Boro as an example, until they got to the last two stages, the Teeside club actually lost money, the main reason being them having to find their own expenses for the competition. In the Champions League, it?s an entirely different story, because most clubs? expenses are met, and they can turn it into a profitable exercise as a result. The thing is, because of local pride and prestige, qualification for Europe is of paramount importance for the Prem?s smaller fry. The knock-on effect has been a decline in the importance of domestic knock-out tournaments for the Prem?s really big guns, most of the media buzzing around sides doing well in the Champions League, and to a lesser extent, those still in the UEFA competition.

Jeff reiterated the point on Albion wanting to spend only what they?d got, pointing out what happened to Leeds United four seasons ago, when they banked everything upon qualification for Europe, then going out comparatively early in the competition. He did know of another club where heavy outside pressure had been put on their bank to write off completely an astonishing amount of debt: just as with the Yorkshire club, should their bid for betterment then go pear-shaped, they?d be right up to their necks in ordure, shall we say. No matter how much money you throw at a club, there?s no sure guarantee of success, as Wolves and Sir Jack Hayward have demonstrated in admirable fashion, over the course of these last few years or so.

Jeff also had something to say about the permanent loss to the game of money that now goes into the pockets of agents, and others abroad. In times of yore, old First Division clubs signed up players from lower down the League: once agreed, the transaction brought much-needed ackers to the selling-club. Nowadays, what with freedom of movement throughout the EEC ? and, very often, other countries also ? top clubs are far more likely to look abroad for recruits, and the League?s basement clubs suffer accordingly.

And, when promoted, do directors stick with the gaffer that got them up, or do they wield the axe, in the hope of attracting someone likely to exert a little more staying-power? Quite a dilemma, that one. A lot of a manager?s carer will rest up on what quality of players he manages to get to the club: his good judgment, in short. In that context, Jeff was most effusive in his praise of Mogga, who he said was totally focussed on the job, 24/7, very often arriving at the training round long before his players, and leaving long after they?d all gone elsewhere. His deputy, Mark Venus? Apart from being an ex-Dingle, his personality is totally different from that of his mucker, the skills of one complementing the other?s, I suppose, a bit like the famous ?bad cop, good cop? interrogation technique of old, I suppose. And it?s always a delicate judgment deciding when a manager should be allowed to leave the club: by doing that, you could end up in serious danger of creating a crisis where there hadn?t been one previously, as per the Charlton-Alan Curbishley thing. OK, Alan had walked, but the principle was there also. Apparently, we?re also one of the highest payers in this division.

How did Jeff get into football reporting in the first place? When he was around 13, he saw a picture in the Queens, West Bromwich, about a journo sent to report on a child trapped underground, and the escalation of the story into one gripping the entire nation. Fired by a desire to enter the profession as a result of that movie, when he saw a junior?s job at the ?West Bromwich Chronicle? advertised around the time he was due to leave school, he applied and got the job. It all stemmed from there.

Gary? Initially, he wanted to concentrate upon the sporting side of things, but got talked out of it by his parents. His eventual conversion to the cause came as a result of being sent to cover a rugby game at Swansea, when a junior reporter. Travelling down by train (no posh cars for journos back then) he just happened to bump into a couple of more senior hacks: literally, as both were completely out of their tree! One thing led to another, and their final tipsy words of advice to the tyro being: ?Whatever you do, try and get into TV work?? which is exactly what he did. It wasn?t too long before Gary actually achieved his aim: when he did, he decided to give one of the aforementioned news-hounds a bell, just to thank the guy for the tip, only to find that the old soak couldn?t remember a single blind thing about the train trip that changed Gary?s career so dramatically!

And that was just the condensed version of what transpired at ?Festung Sutton Branch? tonight! Much more also, but time and space not permitting me to go into details more fully, alas. And a parting word about Newbon, especially: prior to tonight?s meeting, I?d had very little time for him, considering to be insufferably arrogant in the performance of his media duties, and a crashing bore also. Now I?ve seen the other side of him, and very pleasantly surprised I was, too. As or Jeff, he was also extremely personable, a delight to listen to. Well done Amanda Miles, Sutton Branch secretary, for coming up with such an effusive combo for tonight?s meeting: more power to your persuasive elbow, gel!

Oooh, dear ? is that the time? Have to do a rush job on the next bit, then, our game versus Luton, tomorrow (Friday) night. From what I?ve seen elsewhere, Mowbray?s looking towards linking Clem up with Curtis Davies again, their partnership having been broken through Clem?s ongoing injury problems this season. They did get through 90 minutes together versus Leeds, so it?s looking as though he?ll go with the same pairing tomorrow night. And they won?t have to worry about Rowan Vine, either: he?s now very much a Bluenose - and may God have mercy on his soul, black cap handy, or none. Our major absentee will be Paul McShane, who is suspended for tomorrow?s shindig: a bit of a blow, that, as I reckon he?s getting better with every additional game he plays.

Ellington? He?s on the transfer list, now, so I don?t think he?ll be participating in our little televised fun-fest tomorrow night, although a good showing in front of the cameras might have given his cause a little bit of a boost. Stupid boy. Wigan have already chucked in a bid of around ?3 million, but Albion aren?t biting, it would seem. For his own part, Mowbray is saying Ellington will go nowhere unless the money plonked on the table is absolutely right. Our gaffer does want to strengthen the side in various ways, and money from Wigan would be of enormous help.

The problem is simple: in some ways, football transfers are just like house moves: an awful lot of progress depends upon the fortunes of the club at the front of the chain, and to some extent, those of the ones behind, also. Move out player A, and it gives you bidding-rights for Players B and C, whose club won?t let them go until they?ve managed to secure the services of Players D and E. In the meantime, Club X want to offload player F onto us, but we won?t bite until the obstacles pertaining to some or all of the others have been removed. Confused you will be!

Mind you, this entire ?yellow card? issue could end up biting back with a vengeance, and very soon, too. For diverse reasons better known to referees and linos at this level ? never mind Tony Mowbray, I haven?t got a bloody clue why, either! - we now have one of the worst disciplinary records in the entire division. It all gets too risible for words when you come to realise that Jonathan Greening has accrued an incredible NINE thus far: the very last person I?d describe as ?aggressive?, it?s as much as he can do to even THINK about making a tackle, never mind plunge right in at the deep end, boot first.

And it?s not just him: we now have four or so on four yellows, a precarious state of affairs indeed. If our ?criminals? accrue their fifth singly, then we?ll get away with it - just. Should refs decide to go in for ?group bookings? (with no discount given whatsoever!) over the next few weeks instead, that could wreak complete and utter havoc on our chances of going up. As things stand, Hartson will be absent for our Elland Road trip, in a fortnight?s time; Greening we all know about, for which he?ll miss two games once he hits the ?magic number?; and Kev Phillips, Jason Koumas and Zoltan Gera all teeter on four. Let?s just hope that all the men in the middle we encounter over the course of the next few weeks are in genial mood, eh? Yeah, I know, far more chance of Hell freezing over, but you?ve got to say it, if only for form?s sake, haven?t you?

My thoughts about tomorrow night? Without the beautifully-botanic Rowan Vine doing things for The Hatters up front any more, they might just find it a tad problematic scoring goals (said she, hopefully. Desperately, even?) I?ll stick my neck out a bit, though, and tip us to do the biz, primarily because of our stonking home form right now. A bloody good chance to get some points on the board, then sit back come Saturday, and see what all the rest in the chasing pack can do. Let?s hope I?m still in good heath and temper come this time tomorrow night, eh?

And Finally?.. Sorry, but I can?t resist this one! Time for me to announce the very first winners of our spanking-new ?Gunshot Wound In The Foot (Self-Inflicted) Award?, both of whom are worthy recipients indeed. You won?t find this one mentioned in the Court Circular at all, mainly because it?s my brainchild, and no-one else?s, so without further ado, let me announce the names of the winners. (Use your own imaginations to conjure up images of someone standing on a stage and, very ostentatiously, tearing open a huge envelope, pausing a while for dramatic effect, then announcing to a slightly rats-arsed audience: ??.And tonight?s winners are?.(pregnant pause)?..David Gold, and Steve Bruce!?)

It being Blues I?m on about, and no-one else, you?d probably be more likely to find the sad tale I?m going to tell you in the Police Gazette, rather than in its more famous London namesake, where all the gong announcements usually go. Given the sheer genius the Bluenose persuasion have shown in the past to stuff up even the most perfectly-planned of PR exercises, you won?t find this one strange at all. Let?s face it, had the Small Heath lot ever been given responsibility for casting a sainted figure like Mother Theresa in the best possible light, the end result would have most probably been an all-out media campaign accusing the deceased holy lady of serial Devil worship, coupled with a somewhat unusual, probably illegal, take upon the close bond that?s always formed between man and large dog, in this case, the one when the two are in each other?s sole company, and no-one else is looking.

My reasons for nominating both men stem from Steve Bruce?s remarks, made earlier this week, in which he called upon chairmen to ?readdress ticket pricing to give people the chance to come and watch football, because if we don?t, we are going to lose their support.? Apparently, Blues joint-owner David Gold expressed virtually the same sentiments last year, when he claimed prices might have to fall to keep the working classes in the game. Must have passed me by at the time, because I?m buggered if I can remember it. And that?s why I?ve been reduced to tears of helpless laughter, ever since I first clapped eyes upon Bruce?s wonderful remarks in last Monday?s Daily Mirror, folks.

It?s a bit rich of them both, suddenly claiming to be the true working person?s friend, renouncing the money market and all its knavish works, then very ostentatiously turning on the old altruism glands in order to appear in total concordance with the worsening plight of their cash-poor supporter base. Not only that, the Small Heath persuasion might just be forgetting the small detail of them having the second most expensive away tickets in the entire Prem, last season ? a stonking ?45, to you, squire. And hair-trigger touchy about any criticism of their ticketing policies, however insignificant, and non-threatening: back in 20005, they actually ejected a Man United supporter for handing out leaflets advising fellow Mancs not to buy food inside St. Andrews, as a protest against the spiralling cost of seats for away supporters there.

That?s two strikes down, then: just one remains, and that goes right back to 2002, the year both they and we tasted Premiership football for the very first time. So what did Blues do, by way of celebration, once they?d left the environs of the Millennium Stadium, in Cardiff, and drunk their last celebratory bottle of Moet Et Chandon? Only raise their season-ticket prices by 40 per cent, then, just a couple of seasons later, repeat virtually the same trick, thereby costing Blues fans an average of ?60 extra, as a result of their second go at awful money-grubbing antics.

Oh, and another thing. The Fart can also tell you an interesting tale of how he and a few chums saw the Small Heath side well and truly off a few years ago, as a result of a court case they brought against the club, and for a similar reason, too, disparate ticket prices for home and away supporters ? it got as far as the Crown Court, before Blues decided to see sense and change their plea to a ?guilty? one - with the assistance of Trading Standards! As ?Im Indoors commented, just the other day: ?Huh ? no class?.?

It?s nearly seven years further down the line from their inaugural Prem promotion, which means we?re now being constantly treated to the degrading spectacle of the pair of them trying like stink to convince their supporters they?re on their side, really. Next thing you know, they?ll be singing ?The Red Flag? and brandishing copies of Das Kapital during business meetings. In spite of all that ? and this is the bit you?ve really got to admire, folks, if only because of their sheer brass neck in trying it on in the first place - when it comes to nasty football clubs bleeding the bank accounts of their horny-handed faithful practically dry, you won?t find better practitioners of such black arts anywhere else in the known Universe.

I don?t know about you lot, but after reading about what Cuddly Stevie and Daft David had to say, I?m finding it really difficult to eradicate completely the awful stench of hypocrisy hanging around our ?office?, and all of it emanating from the direction of Small Heath. The people who make Airwick spray air-fresheners must really love me. Steve Bruce and David Gold? Before they go and open their cavernous traps way too wide again, I would strongly suggest that both men first look themselves straight in the mirror. Then, having done that, and gibbered a bit, proceed to eject themselves from the Small Heath club as soon as common decency allows, and preferably with the assistance of a three-stage Saturn space rocket, its course already set fair for the frozen wastes of poor, relegated Pluto. Drastic, but one sure-fire way of finally turning them into ?proper? Bluenoses.

Oh, and another thing. A bar to the previously-mentioned award goes for the complete and utter disaster they?re currently calling ?relaying the St. Andrews turf?. As soon as I saw those first images on the box, the other day, then cottoned on to what they were actually doing, I turned to my other half and said: ?Are they REALLY sure about changing their turf at this time of year??

No great gardening expert, me, but even I know that grass stops growing once you?ve left the safe, balmy haven of the low fifties, Fahrenheit, for the much chillier waters of the mid-forties and lower. And coming with a whopping great side-order in the form of a whacking great downpour, as well. Now it looks very much as though their game might be called off this weekend as a result! Fixture pile-ups, anyone? Bring ?em on, I say!

 - Glynis Wright

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