The Diary

11 March 2007: A Discourse On Dingles, Amongst Other Distasteful Things.

And so we come, once more, to the one Championship fixture on the annual round I really do detest, and with every single particle of my being, too. The Dingles, at their place, and just to pile on the clear potential for angst-ridden adrenal over-secretion among our supporters, it?s for the third time of asking, thus far. True, the second of those was wished upon us by some star-struck FA eminence or other grabbing their balls a mite too firmly for comfort, but even that happy thought doesn?t in any way begin to lessen the amount of apprehension I?m feeling right now.

It?s not because of the way the other results panned out for us today: with both Southampton and Preston surprisingly dipping, but Sunderland grabbing all three points away from home, dropping to fourth in the divisional pecking order was about as good as it could get. No, the reason for my disquiet stems from a myriad of sources and reasons, some of which I?ll now try to convey to the reader. So, where do I start? Aha, now I know ? but please be patient, all will become clear, eventually, I promise! Deep in the Bible Belt of the good ole US of A (or, at least those bits of it where the locals never quite took on board rock-solid evidence that the Unionist persuasion won their beastly Civil War fair and square, a somewhat anomalous situation that still prevails in remoter parts, even now), something called ?The Rapture? has a fair few believers packing their various churches and chapels.

What is it? Well, so the story goes, the very first moment the Last Trump is blown ? and the awfully unkind Baggie person standing at the back who implied Brooksie?s likely involvement, smelly or otherwise, should leave the room right now! ? all the righteous and saved, irrespective of whatever (whoever?) they happen to be doing at that particular moment in time, shuck off their clothes, every single stitch (potentially very career-stopping, that, but when viewed in context of the truly awful other stuff prophesied in the Book Of Revelations, such remarkable events would constitute the least of any gaffer?s worries, by a country mile), then take to the skies, in the general direction of Up There, By Invitation Only.

As for the rest of us, we sinful ones, having all kinds of naughty but nice fun in our off-duty moments, well, so the theory goes, we?ll just fry, ?collateral damage? so to speak, in the foretold subsequent Heaven versus Hell Armageddon (Nuclear Holocausts Welcome By Prior Arrangement). A bit circuitous, this, but all the above?s the prime reason why you still see car stickers aplenty in The Deep South, asking the bald question ?ARE YOU RAPTURE READY??

In other words, as far as believers are concerned, it could happen at any time you care to name, so, to put it all in the correct idiom: ?Yo? good ole boys be a-settin? to go darned quick, y?all hear, now?? Quite what happens in the event of believers having a prolonged-but pleasurable dump in the Gents at the time has never been made entirely clear to me, but, as ever, I?m certain The Good Lord will provide, even if it?s just a case of handing over a longish length of Andrex toilet roll at the appropriate moment.

Myriad miseries, but of a completely different kind, await tomorrow?s Molineux bunfight: unlike the day of our successful Cup excursion, we?ll be located this time in what?s known colloquially as ?The Gobbing Gallery?, where all manner of things will assuredly rain upon us over the course of the entire 90-minute period.

Of one thing you can be sure, though: unlike our American religious fruitcake friends, regular showers of sulphur and brimstone, with bluish radioactive glow optional, will constitute the least of our worries. Try something of much richer nitrogenous content instead, steaming-hot, liquid, too, and no need whatsoever for the ?bombers? to head for the tea-bar in order to replenish their supplies, either. The human kidney is more than capable of filtrating and secreting enough liquid to fill the average condom, given about an hour?s notice to?.. Well, you should have got my drift by now ? and that?s why I?m going to revise, slightly, the somewhat daunting version all those Louisiana inbreds put out for public consumption. Given all the above, all the objectionable behaviour inherent upon playing them, perhaps we should put out similarly cautionary stickers, but reading, instead: ?ARE YOU DINGLES READY??

As the late John Wayne might have commented: ?The hell, you say?.? And differing situations lead to differing interest-levels: compare and contrast the aforementioned Cup game, where approximately 5,000 tickets were snatched from the very jaws of our ticket counter within around two hours of them first going on sale, and what?s happened for this one. Only 2,500 up for grabs this time, but even so, it?s taken a full ten days to shift them: what?s more, I?m not even sure this fixture?s been a complete and utter sell-out.

The bottom line is that despite creating a five seasons-long Dingles-free zone ere the last time we travelled to the Custard Bowl for a League meet ? how could I ever forget that sublime moment Big Dave ?bomped? Shaun Newton clean out of the stadium, almost? - most Baggies regulars are all-too sadly conversant with what goes on whenever we and the dogheads clash in anger, and so avoid it like the plague. Although not an avid fan of the Premiership, by any means, our promotion at their expense would be just peachy as far as I?m concerned: lots of Villa, oodles of Blues, maybe, but sod-all in the way of gold-and-cack to be seen anywhere.

But, as we are all painfully aware, history rarely repeats itself: not so much in terms of what happened five or six years ago (we won 1-0, actually), but what took place in the merry month of January. Our most emphatic Molineux win since the halcyon days of Ron Atkinson and The Three Degrees, almost 30 years ago, resulting in the very same final score, 3-0 to us ? but it ain?t going to happen this time round, I?ll wager. For starters, whatever vestiges of intellect still remain within that impenetrably-thick Dingle skull cavity will have been deeply troubled by their truly awful showing, the day we last played them.

Since that happy final whistle moment (for us!) the stakes have been raised by a considerable amount: now, there?s the question of badly wounded local pride to contend with. When your IQ is feeble enough to be measured in the same kind of arithmetical terms most people would use to describe current ambient temperature ? i.e. two digits only, and low, low, low! ? then you?ve got little option but to grasp at whatever straws come floating past, as you flounder helplessly in the backwash of the maelstrom created by this season?s fiercely-fought race for promotion to the Prem, haven?t you?

And it will be different, of that, I?ve no doubt. They?re currently on something of a roll, having recently beaten far too many outfits away from home for my liking, and finally getting their act together in front of their own admirers. They seem to be grinding results out, these days, so fully expect a concerted effort to stop us playing, tomorrow. Those 17 and 18 year-old kids of theirs seem to be hitting pay-dirt, right now: they?ll want it badly, and for one simple reason only. They?re hungry for it. End of.

It?s at times like these I really want to slobber the FA minion who so recently ruled upon Robbo?s red-carded innocence with slurpy great kisses: we are going to need all the help we can get on this one. In theory, our defenders, vastly more experienced, for the most part, should contain such capricious childish impudence with considerable ease. But there always exists the niggling doubt: Mick McCarthy has done wonders with that side, and in a very short space of time, too. Can he come up with a game-plan packed with sufficient Baggie-stopping potency to take us to the cleaners, this time round? Once more, I?m getting awfully bad vibes about this one, and once more, I?m hoping like hell I?ve got it completely wrong.

At the moment, our leader is very much keeping schtum on the exact composition of tomorrow?s side; keeping one?s cards very closely to one?s chest is always advisable in such potentially-fraught situations, but he is also going large on the splendid contributions made by what one might term the ?fringe players? thus far. That means the likes of Zoltan and Darren Carter, both of whom have recently spent nearly as much time on the bench as they have in the senior side.

Significantly, maybe, our gaffer did comment on the official website that after tinkering ?a bit? in the Boro replay, ?that gave me food for thought?. He then went on to say: ?All the players know that, and I?ve told them that over the next dozen games or so, every player is going to get utilised??I want to get to the point where I trust everyone?.you?ve got to be able to trust 16 or 17 players equally, and pick a team that can damage the opposition?? There being no injury problems to speak of ? well, not among the current lot, and with Nathan Ellington our only absentee, because of suspension ? then it?s anyone?s guess what he?ll do.

Significantly, perhaps, one player our leader does rate highly is a Dingle, Michael Kightly, their absolute steal from Grays. ?When you haven?t got ?30 million to spend, you have to find these diamonds, like Mick McCarthy has (with Kightly)?.if you pick enthusiastic, athletic, technical players from teams that need the money, then it?s a challenge, and one I?m not afraid of?? That particular comment was made in the wake of enthusing comments about our very own youngster signed in similar circumstances, the lad known to all and sundry as ?Shergar?, young McDonald, currently on loan from Dutch side AGOVV Apeldoorn.

As for the remainder of the mindless and gormless, Mick McCarthy?s currently debating whether or not to change a winning side for tomorrow?s game. Midfielder Darren Potter was out suspended for their 3-2 win at Luton, but is now very much back in contention. As for striker Stephen Ward, despite being stretchered off because of a blow to the knee also sustained at Kenilworth Road, he?s now very much back on the case as well. Far less likely to participate are Dingles duo Craig Davies and Dan Jones, players whose match fitness following injury isn?t quite back to where it should be, yet. Lewis Gobern and Kevin Davies are also hors de combat through hamstring injuries, while dodgy ankle ligaments still conspire to keep Charlie Mulgrew on the sidelines. Michael Oakes, Carl Ikeme, Carl Court, Gabor Gyepes? Knackered knees, all of ?em.

There?s a hellish lot riding upon this game, of course. Lose, and the Dingles leapfrog over us, no doubt emitting copious quantities of anal gas as they do so. That would bump us down to fifth, and with an horrendous seven points to make up on second place: like as not, run of decent form or not, we?d eventually run out of road. Miracles like that of season 2001-02 don?t happen all that often, sadly. Hell, perish the thought, but a few more similar disasters, and we could conceivably end up right outside the play-off spots altogether. Who?s tomorrow?s referee, I wonder? It had better be a good ?un: a couple of bad decisions on the bounce, and our entire season could so easily end up placed in serious jeopardy.

That?s ?worst case scenario? of course, but, supposing our charming neighbours can?t quite last the automatic promotion course, and we stay in that all-important top six until the landlord finally calls ?Time!?, we could quite easily end up playing them for a fourth and fifth time. Somehow, I don?t think the local police would be very much amused, should that outcome prevail come season?s end. Hell, never mind the flaming rozzers. I wouldn?t be amused!

Yes, we?re vastly stronger, far more able to soak up the rough stuff than we were, say, pre-Christmas, but given the bare fact these encounters are, by their very nature, bruising ones, could we survive the knock-out process in one piece? As the editor of the Times once famously commented, not about the Dingles-Albion hate-fest, but the arrest and subsequently-savage sentencing of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards for what would now be regarded as minor drugs offences, back in the late 60?s, ?Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel??

And Finally?. I do hope this isn?t an omen, all you lot out there, but it would appear that the famous graffiti on the so-called ?Astle Bridge? has now suddenly gone AWOL, and in what can only be termed ?dubious circumstances?, too. The E and S has the story: according to them, the 40 year old ?Astle Is King? slogan daubed on what was then known as ?Primrose Bridge, shortly after our Wembley triumph, back in 1968, mysteriously vanished just a few days ago.

Dudley Council, whose continuing negative stance regarding what is, for Baggies, at least, a recognized and much-loved local landmark, makes them the obvious suspects, raised their collective hands, shrugged shoulders aplenty, then chorussed ?Nothin? to do with us, Guv??. Assuming they weren?t telling porkies (and to be scrupulously fair, having as good as conceded defeat years before, why on earth should they have a sudden change of heart at this particular moment?) that only leaves one prime suspect ? the dog-heads themselves.

A really pathetic kind of way to settle old ? and not so old ? scores, that. Cor, I bet they were ever so brave, removing that painted slogan in the dead of night. No wit or subtlety whatsoever, in stark contrast to the rib-tickling mirth inherent in the Tesco carrier bag wheeze we perpetrated upon them, in the immediate aftermath of our emphatic FA Cup win at their place. Is that the best they could come up with? Wrecking a well-established and much-loved local landmark?

Of one thing I?m sure: come the very next classic ?dark and stormy night? to hit the Black Country, some mysterious hand or other will reinstate Jeff?s unofficial memorial back to its former glory. Slightly twisting the wording formerly carried on that famous bridge, long before the gold-and-cack persuasion got to it: ?ASTLE IS STILL THE KING! DINGLES, PLEASE TAKE NOTE!?

 - Glynis Wright

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