The Diary

20 February 2007: Tomorrow Night's 'Biggie' - Can We Baggie Birds Bully The Bluebirds?

There really is something about the FA Cup that generates an anticipatory and excitement factor far superior to that of all our other domestic tournaments combined. How many seasons have I sat nervously in front of our box/steam radio/my trusty old tranny when draws involving our favourite football club are made live at FA HQ? Or, for that matter, indulging in surreptitious listening to the Beeb for similar reasons, when either at school, in higher education, or place of work? Yeah, right, and I?m willing to wager it was ? and still is - the same for most of all you lovely Baggie people out there.

Got to be well in excess of forty years of pulling those stunts under my belt by now, I reckon, but the problem is always this: no matter how many times I?ve seen those famous ebon globes emerge, from either the very low-tech little velvet bag they used to employ for the purpose, or the spherical plastic monstrosity they tend to use these days, I still get that knotty sort of feeling right inside my stomach the precise instant the ball with our number on it emerges squinting and blinking at the bright lights and cameras so rudely interrupting its previously stress-free existence.

Today?s proceedings were no different, but with one notable exception: actually managing to progress as far as the draw for the last eight, a rarely-seen astronomical phenomenon all of its very own. Despite Albion?s proud boast of a pretty impressive Cup-fighting tradition built up over the years ? indeed, when Albion gave Alan Ashman the boot so disgracefully, back in 1971, one of the reasons cited for his dismissal was our then-chairman?s assertion to the media that he was fed up of seeing us win cups every season, and wanted us to win the League title instead! - this sort of thing doesn?t happen to us all that often these days. The last such occasion was during our inaugural Premiership promotion season, five years ago, when we were paired with top-flighters Fulham in the home draw. Enjoy.

My immediate thoughts, today, as I waited for the fickle finger of Fate to descend, then point in our direction? Make the most of it while it lasts: in the event of our League campaign juddering to a painful halt over the course of the next few weeks (with a squad as thinly spread as ours, just like the poor, the threat of injuries and suspensions is constantly with us, so such an eventuality is not completely beyond the bounds of imagination, by any means) at least we?ll have some wonderful memories to look back upon, as the summer progresses its inexorable path towards the golds and reds of autumn, and we contemplate the heartbreaking thought of remaining outside the charmed circle for yet another season.

But all such gloomy thoughts were emptied from my mind in a blinding flash the very same moment the Soho Square spheroid with our name on it got unceremoniously yanked from out of its cosy and dark hiding-place. Number Seven, us, and first one out ? well, if it happened, at least it would be in front of our own lot ? to play Man Urinal Or Reading. As for the remainder of the draw, although I dutifully noted down all the other pairings, inside my head, everything else was going round like the clappers.

The nature of those thoughts? Well, despite the exalted Premiership, European, and financial status of at least one of the two potential opponents still to resolve matters, with the tie being a home one and everything, we still stand a chance, albeit a remote one, of ending the game semi-finalists for the very first time since 1982. Please note, I?m also being pragmatic, as it?s far more likely that United go through than OT old boy Coppell?s lot.

And there?s another thing we should be aware of if both Man U and ourselves prove triumphant in our respective replays. What?s the position regarding The Pole In Goal? Would that quarter-final pairing automatically trigger a clause in the lad?s loan contract preventing United from playing him in goal against us, I wonder? Given they have far more players enjoying life in their first team squad than most lower-league clubs have in their entire player complement, picking some other young hopeful to do the job shouldn?t prove too irksome a task for them, now, should it?

Sure, should Albion and United ultimately prove triumphant in their respective replays, the far more likely scenario is for the Manchester moneybags to sweat their way to a Hawthorns draw, then pick us off at leisure once they?ve got us back to Old Trafford, but they have been known to stuff up on big occasions, so that?s the thin straw I?m going to be clutching at should we get past Boro. And so will Mogga and his merry men, I?ll wager.

Had the draw placed Man United in the Old Trafford driving seat, and not we, I would have written the whole thing off within a matter of seconds, but where there?s a home draw, there?s hope, so my cup?s around half-full right now, thank you very much. But with one important cautionary note, which I?ll repeat, ad infinitum, if necessary: we still have to get past Boro in the replay first, and doing that won?t be at all easy.

But back to the Championship, which must remain our priority, Cup run or no Cup run. After our weekend heroics at The Riverside, tomorrow brings us back down to earth with an almighty crash, as we host seventh spot play-off place hopefuls Cardiff City for what?s expected to provide a pretty strong pointer in the overall direction of our future league status, given that Blues quietly nipped in front of us while we were busy chasing Boro, back in The Land Time Forgot. The fact they?ve restored a gap, and have two games in hand over us, still, must figure large in Mowbray?s mind, as he quietly plots The Bluebirds? destruction, tomorrow evening.

The good news? Striker Michael Chopra, a complete and utter pain in the fundament when he?s on form for The Bluebirds, will be sitting this one out, as will Simon Walton, Cardiff?s other ?Saturday Sinner?. No, you?re not the Welsh Messiah, Chopra, just a very naughty boy! The bad news? Let?s just say ?Bloody Cardiff City supporters, end of?.? and leave it at that, eh?

It goes without saying, of course, that they?ll be all-too aware of the great threat posed by Jason Koumas: hell, while having that almighty strop of his before coming back to us like the Prodigal Son, Jase was virtually keeping the Welsh club afloat all by himself. There?s several more Baggies connections to possibly behold tomorrow night: those of Darren Purse, former Albion defender, now strutting his stuff for the Ninian Park mob, and erstwhile Baggies midfielder Riccardo Scimeca.

Mind you, having sustained a back injury recently, the likelihood of Purse returning to his former club?s spiritual home tomorrow is reportedly remote, while Scimeca has been plagued by a long-standing hamstring problem for much of the current season, which could call into question his availability also. Despite both having problems of one sort or another, I?m sure they will have provided Dave Jones with lashings of further input regarding who to consider hot or not in the Hawthorns world.

According to the Cardiff website, the absence of the aforementioned suspended two apart, they don?t anticipate making too many changes for tomorrow night?s bout of fresh air and fun. They do report that reserve striker Jason Byrne is now more or less recovered from injury, though, and champing at the bit to get some serious football under his belt once more, which might give him an ?in? tomorrow night, given Chopra?s sudden enforced absence from the sharp-end.

Byrne only has four senior appearances as sub to his name thus far, but he did score on at least one of those four occasions. Against the Dingles, at Molineux, in a game the Welsh side eventually won 2-1. Ooooh, talk about an almighty conflict of interest. Don?t know whether to soundly congratulate the guy for kicking our local rivals so effectively when they were down, or kick him soundly in the shins for seriously queering our own promotion pitch with that inaugural Cardiff strike of his!

As far as we?re concerned, I?m pleased, not to mention relieved, to see that the after-effects of Saturday?s Teeside excursions have been reported minimal. The only absentee will be Curtis Davies, suspended for just one game following his late-doors dismissal at the Riverside. It?s looking likely that McShane will take the centre-back role instead, while Alby will come in from the cold to deputise on the right flank. Having said all that, our leader?s still insisting nothing?s cast in tablets of stone, as yet.

Sure, he could swop McShane around, then bring Alby in to plug the gap, and both would make a pretty good account of themselves, as well, but the option still appears very much open for Jared Hodgkiss to gain some much-needed prior experience by virtue of swift promotion to the senior ranks instead. Cardiff would certainly prove a scary baptism of fire for the poor little sod, so better not take the risk, eh? Let?s hope that our own gaffer?s instincts are running along similar lines to mine.

Turning to other matters, now, I?ve had an interesting mail today from my old mucker Cyril Randle, concerning my brief mention of the very last time The Shrine saw a fifth round replay, versus Sheffield United, back in 1958, from which we emerged 4-1 winners. According to Cyril, during the course of that game, Frank Griffin had his leg broken, basically because he was too brave in going for a 40/60 ball he needn't have bothered with, as we were already in the next round, bar the shouting. Cost us the Cup that season, he reckons. Come on, Mister Fart, and any other wrinklies wanting to join the debate: I wasn?t a Hawthorns regular, back then ? so did it, or didn?t it? What?s your own personal take on that particular game? I?m all ears. Until I get deafened by one almighty roar as we grab tomorrow?s winner, that is!

And Finally?.. One. Following strong media rumours he?d irrevocably split the blanket with former golden-boy gaffer Jose Mourhino, Roman Abramovic?s now reported to be keeping a very low profile indeed at Stamford Bridge. London-based journos tell of the club?s Russian billionaire owner not being seen at their ground for several days, now ? and if I were in the same shoes as Chelski?s narcissistic, swollen-headed Portuguese gaffer, I?d be getting distinctly worried, I really would. Just listen to your great auntie Glynis, and remember the golden rule, Jose, old bean: never, EVER take on trust moneybags Russkies offering gifts in the form of expensive-looking bottles of vintage wine, especially those appearing to glow in the dark, and bearing the appellation ?CHATEAU POLONIUM 210? on the label!

Two. My middle sister?s off to the Canary Islands yet again later this week, lucky sod that she is. Staying at her daughter?s place once more, and in prime position to direct lots of hugs and cuddles in the direction of toddler granddaughter Rhianna, who starts at the local village school very soon. (British teachers may want to drool enviously over the fact that class sizes over there rarely reach double figures, at that age!)

Time, then, for former Hawthorns linguistic expert Richard Sneekes to turn purple with envy. It?s a remarkable testament to the adaptability of the infant human brain that even at the tender age of four, young Rhianna is now astonishingly fluent in no less than three mother tongues: Spanish, German, plus, of course, British. The first and third come courtesy of her parents - where mum?s very noticeable Black Country dialect fits into it, I have no idea whatsoever - the second as the result of many happy hours spent in the company of twins of similar age, whose parents both hail from what used to be called Der Fatherland, and live just over the road.

All down to the totally different way kids? brains are wired, at that age, apparently. It greatly favours the development of such wonderful skills in childhood, it fades somewhat come the time when the child fast approaches the rocks and shoals of imminent puberty ? and it doesn?t half get confusing when Brits, Germans and Spanish all get together over a boozy backyard barbie or three, and all their kids let loose to run and play as they want! No wonder they soak it up like a sponge.

The foreign languages, that is, not the booze, although given mum?s enjoyment of the stuff during her younger, far more irresponsible, teenage years, heredity and environment may yet vie for starring roles. But, as I remarked to ?Im Indoors earlier tonight: it?s not the kids that cause the problems of the world, it?s the adults who wrongly perceive there to be a problem in the first place!

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index