The Diary

03 February 2007: Tigers Versus Stripes: Can We Gatecrash That Top Three Party?

It?s one of football?s main pleasures that when you?re on a bit of a winning run, you can always hightail it off in the general direction of that very special Blues or Dingles supporter in your life, and claim full gloating rights over them, right there and then. And thus it was with the Bluenose Butcher, today. What with their home defeat versus Southend on Tuesday night, and them always insisting St. Andrews was cursed by gypsies around a century ago, thanks to Freddie Eastwood, and his most thoughtful contribution to Southend?s 3-1 stonking of our local rivals earlier this week, they can now categorically state they most certainly are, still.

So, at around ten this morning, I walked into his shop to pick up some bellydraft, and all bright and breezy, I was, despite showing the early symptoms of a rotten sore throat, picked up from my other half, no doubt. He always has been generous when it comes to loaning out his personal pathogens, has Simon. Anyway, there I was, stood right in front of his counter, and carefully scrutinising his facial features, which were not exactly of their best, shall we say. Oh, dear: were we still all upset over Tuesday night, then?

That proved to be the moment I first realised just how much potential lumber our chums from Small Heath were in. Apparently, Chummy left their game a full ten minutes before the final whistle, so disgusted was he by their non-performance. And when asked whether the ghastly state of their pitch had been a serious contributory factor in their defeat, the answer to that one was most assuredly, ?YES!? And was that followed by a deep-throated ?Grrrrr?.? not unlike that of our tom cat, on seeing one of his more annoying furry rivals stalking up and down our street.

According to my meaty little chum, even now, you can still see the lines made by the original strips of grass when first laid, which suggests to me that the stuff never got the chance to root properly in the first place. Hardly surprising, really, given the time of year: even given the current mildness of our clime, those laying operations coincided with quite a nasty cold snap, followed by rain of monsoon proportions, almost.

Have Blues been dealt a telling blow by all that? Quite possibly, and what with flogging their star turn on deadline day as well, and all being done over Brucie?s pretty little head, so it would seem, I now wonder if he will resign, as threatened? Mind you, it?s a bit rich, him banging on about ?loyalty? when the best part of his managerial career has been spent leaving former clubs in the lurch. Remember Crystal Palace, when he went and took the Blues job, around three or four seasons ago? Blues are now showing all the signs of severe internal collateral damage, one way or another. And most of it self-inflicted, too. Shame.

Tomorrow, while we experience the sybaritic ? not to mention seriously fishy ? joys of Hull, they go to Colchester, which they won?t enjoy one little bit. As we?ve seen so often these last few weeks, The U?s do have a nasty little habit of turning over this division?s better performers when playing on their own turf, which is basically why they?re knocking on the door of the play-offs, still. To date, no-one?s found a really effective way of nullifying the threat: given that Blues seem to be absolutely riddled with internal problems largely of their own making, right now, the signs look pretty good for yet another top-six scalp hanging in their trophy cabinet, come five in the evening. And after them, we?re next. Gulp.

I must say I was surprised by the Cardiff result tonight, though. A competent 2-0 win over Barnsley, it was, although, from the look of the post-match dissection on Sky afterwards, the visitors should have got far more for their pains than they actually did. A tad annoying, as those three points for the Welsh pests means they?re most certainly back from the dead, and furthermore, well and truly snapping at the heels of the top six again.

As I said to His Nibs just the other day, it seems, now, that this season?s Championship promotion race is turning out to be far more competitive than in season 2003-04, the last time we bounced back. I would contend that at that time, we and Norwich were about the best of the bunch in a very poor division, hence that comparatively smooth return to the Prem come the end, but this time, it?s gone and panned out completely differently. It?s so tight up there these days, you need the use of a decent crowbar just to separate the buggers from each other in the crush in the first place.

Trust me on this, just about anyone in that top half has an even chance of making it to the top six right now, and with the assistance of a bloody good run of form, albeit a belated one, staying there until the final day?s final whistle?s unquestionably not a tall order. Certainly makes it competitive, and a far more interesting proposition altogether than the league we aspire to where, apart from the usual overhyped pushing and jostling for final positions of the current top four in that table, and various relegation issues ? although, as far as the latter?s concerned, you can fairly easily predict at least two of the likely three to get the chop ? everything else there is more or less cut and dried. And really, really boring.

Most of those sticking around the bottom of the Prem know that their lot is to be haunted constantly by relegation worries, while the mid-table people can only aspire, at best, towards taking a small share of the crumbs carelessly strewn about the European competition kitchen table by the big boys, as they rapaciously feed upon financial rich pickings galore. Plus the slim possibility of grabbing either the FA or League Cup as their own. But even there, bar the odd one or two seasons where the winners have been something of a surprise packet, the top four clubs reign supreme.

For the ones in the middle, that?s their ceiling, then, be it made of glass, plastic, vitreous enamel, or whatever, ?thus far, and no further?, will always be their watch-cry. It?s a bit like access to higher education before the Second World War: bar for a few of the very brightest poor kids given scholarships (and that assuming father would countenance the potential loss of a much-needed extra wage packet in the first place: many wouldn?t, a state of affairs that frequently led to much later resentment on the part of the ambitious but frustrated child in question, especially the females), if you aspired towards a university education, you had to come from a well-off family.

And what of the Prem? That people now gradually see this situation for what it truly is - an artificial limitation placed upon their side?s progress by the pure greed of super-rich outfits, with near-bottomless monetary resources constantly at their disposal giving them the final edge every time ? does give me, at the very least, a smidgen of hope for the future of football. As ever, finances, or the lack of them, drive policy. Diminishing numbers of bums on seats, of late, have caused alarm bells to sound among top-flight clubs, at long last. Meanwhile, The Championship, a much more attractive and egalitarian proposition altogether, gathers up the Prem?s lost chicks, no doubt laughing like a drain as it does so.

Preston? They travel to lovely Sheffield Wednesday, tomorrow: as far as form goes, that would appear a pushover for the side sitting in joint third position atop us, but it certainly won?t be in practice, as we found out the night we went there, when they killed us off with three horrible sucker-punches, the first two of which were in rapid succession, if my memory serves me correctly. Southampton? They play host to almost-there Derby County: the best result for us there would be a nice nullifying draw, really. Stoke City, who still hang on like grim death, have the dubious pleasure of playing lowly Southend at the Britannia Stadium. But as we?ve seen only this week, underestimate the Shrimpers at your peril: no doubt Russell Hoult will put them wise as to their various quirks and foibles. When he?s not bonking like a rabbit, that is.

As things currently stand, a three-pointer tomorrow would give our newly-resurgent promotion credentials a real boost. I?ve got a sneaking feeling either Blues or Preston will crash and burn tomorrow: should we then capitalise by overcoming Hull, currently lurking one point off the bottom three, that?s gate-crashing the party sorted, isn?t it?

Checking out some Tigers-oriented stuff, despite where they are in the table, their side won?t have all that much done to it tomorrow. David Livermore, unavailable for their last two games, returns to their midfield, and John Welsh, back after around two months out injured, will be accreting bench splinters galore, apparently, but a lot will depend upon the fitness, or otherwise, of striker Steve McPhee. If fit, then Dean The Terminally Flatulent (aka Windass, natch) will be the one that makes way for the lad?s return. It would seem they normally play with three up front at home, but I was encouraged by intimations they weren?t at all cohesive when playing Leeds the other night.

So the question now remains regarding who will very likely feature in our own starting line-up at the KC Stadium. It?ll be a given that new boy Dean Kiely will carry on where he left off, between the sticks at the expense of Zoobie, after that sound midweek performance. Our defence will stay the same, more or less, I would think, but there may be some ticklish decisions to be made in the middle. Does he stick with what he?s got now, Koren, Koumas, Greening and Chaplow, or does he bring the improved Gera back in from the cold?

With it looking increasingly likely that John Hartson will be loaned out to some other club wanting his specialised striking services, and the simple fact they?re doing bloody well as they are, thank you very much, we?ll stick with Joe Kamara and Kev Phillips up front. Not quite the same live wires as normal last Wednesday night, but Joe?s half-time penalty strike did help claim us the spot prize, after all said and done.

And guess what, kiddiwinkles, all three of us are making the long trek to Humberside tomorrow, The Fart, ?Im Indoors and myself, the pleasure of conveying us there being that of Dave Holloway and his amazing away match logistical skills, and none other. Coo, can?t keep my other half away these days, now we?re playing in such an attractive and entertaining manner! Oh ? and it was also his birthday today, poor sod, so please feel free to torment him about the relative imminence of the dreaded Five-O: he?s just three years short, poor lamb! Let?s just say I?ve had ?certain words? with Hull City about marking the occasion for him. Mind you, having that particular birthdate does have its compensations. Just 24 hours later, SuperBob Taylor (may the wintergreen rubbed onto his massive thighs never lose its evocative aroma!) celebrates his!

And Finally?.. Nothing to do with me, this one, I lack sufficient earning-power, for starters, but today saw my other half collect a brand-new set of wheels also. Talk about ?toys for boys?: one of our vehicle?s main attractions is an on-board computer that tells you, more or less, all you ever wanted to know about a particular journey: sadly, the accurate prediction of Albion?s fortunes on any given matchday appears beyond its considerable powers at the present time!

Add to my last ?little kids in toyshops?: once sat behind that wheel, just watch him play. Oh well ? at least it keeps him off the streets. One small snag, though: with the ?feel? of the clutch differing markedly from that of our last vehicle, what few journeys we?ve done today have been made somewhat livelier than usual by ?Im Indoors constantly stalling the thing while trying to accelerate away from traffic lights, once they?ve turned green. So anyone reading this that suffered, please accept our profound apologies. My ?recycled juvenile? was sent to bed without any supper for his sins tonight, you?ll be pleased to hear.

Things You Didn?t Know About Away Destinations?.. Hull was one of the very first British cities to get bombed from the air. Zeppelins did the damage, back in the middle of the First World War, with more than a few people losing their lives as a result. So spooked and frightened were the locals by what happened ? remember, unlike their Continental counterparts, this was the very first time ever that British civvies had taken the same lumps as their army, and in their own homes, too, which made it all much worse. After the raid, they took to the streets, beating up anyone they could find wearing an Army uniform. Their dubious logic was no doubt based upon the assumption that the troops should have been out there doing something to stop the bombs, rather than spending the entire evening out on the lush.

 - Glynis Wright

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