The Diary

09 April 2007: Norwich Beckons - Will Delia's Lot Make It A Recipe For Disaster?

After a lengthy Saturday night session of what amounted to several hours? worth of wailing and gnashing of teeth, my other half?s suggestion today that we head on out for a Sunday afternoon spent chilling out at the Black Country Museum in Dudley was an excellent one indeed. As far as I was concerned, it divorced one totally from football for at least half a day, and for that reason alone, was definitely favourite, as far as this column was concerned.

But even then, I couldn?t totally escape the dread clutches of what amounts to a nasty little ?football habit?: the problem, you see, was caused by a coach-load of people from the North East, who all insisted upon turning up in Sunderland apparel, it would seem. I suppose I should have rushed up and congratulated them upon their wonderful home win, yesterday, but so brassed off were we both by yesterday?s unacceptable Hawthorns events, we simply couldn?t be arsed to do it. That?s a pretty good indication of the depths of the ?low? we?ve both hit as a consequence of Saturday, and all who sailed in it.

Still, sod football: the weather was superb, the sun agreeably warm wherever we were sheltered from the wind, the sky a pleasing variation upon an overall theme of ?Coventry City shirt?, and the various exhibits in the themed bit ? think ?Black Country town around the early part of last century? ? making for evocative thoughts: not a little of the places and situations recreated there I can remember myself. One such gem is a chemist?s shop removed completely from Netherton High Street, then painstakingly reassembled, brick by brick, in its new location.

Going in there certainly makes me more than well aware of my advancing years: around the age of eleven or so, I can remember taking prescriptions to precisely the same place myself. Don?t worry, I?m not THAT old, as per The Fart: it?s just that the proprietor, a gentleman rejoicing in the name of H. Emile Doo (seriously!), never once bothered upgrading either fixtures and fittings, nor, from what I could see of his working methods, his seriously-outdated ways of putting up drugs, the techniques for which couldn?t have changed one jot since he was newly-qualified.

Result? A place completely enmeshed in a between-the-wars, pre-antibiotic pharmacological time-warp: materia medica, (what few things did actually work back then were almost invariably plant-based: the true beginnings of ?chemotherapy? as we now understand the term, but for syphilis, not cancer, only date from as recently as 1909 when the Germans managed to invent a ?magic bullet? to treat same, thereby reducing the need to use really poisonous heavy metal stuff e.g. arsenic, mercury compounds, not Black Sabbath! - to do the same job) drugs, pills, lotions, potions, the works, which was why the museum people pounced like greased lightning when they first heard the property was up for grabs. As for the owner, I can only assume that he?d finally popped his ancient clogs ? and as for me, the whole thing was, as usual, a pleasant trip down Memory Lane.

One sighting I didn?t make, sadly, was that of Supporters Club Master Of Ceremonies and committee member John Homer, who actually works as a guide there. Those of you familiar with his Black Country patter ? the lad was born and bred in Lower Gornal: well, someone has to own up to it, don?t they? ? will certainly know of his remarkable prowess when ?spakin? the twang, aer kid?. It?s because of that, ably assisted by a remarkable way with words, he?s a genuine shoo-in for a post which involves dressing up in period costume, taking school parties, tourists etc. around, and explaining things in his own inimitable style.

If ever a job was truly made for anyone, that was it, as far as John was concerned! Just a few brief words during the interview and they must have lapped him up like gravy. Quite a sea-change from his previous Civil Service post, it has to be said, but as I supped ginger beer in the sun-trapped spring warmth of the back yard of a genuine working pub, one of several business concerns brought back there brick by brick, then restored to former glory, in the form of several recreated Black Country streets, a horrible thought suddenly struck me: God help the child who turns up in front of John wearing a Dingles shirt!

And, after yesterday?s disaster, a Stoke City one, more than like, judging from the thunderous expression that crossed his ample face come the final whistle. Even as I write, are the murky depths of the canal bordering the site being increasingly swollen with the decaying carcasses of tiny Dingle/Stokie mites (and bigger ?uns!) who didn?t know any better, I wonder? Should the West Midlands Police ever take to dredging that bit of ?cut? one dark and stormy night, I guess I?ll have the answer.

Having put off the evil deed for quite some time by turning to considerations of John?s somewhat unusual communication skills, I suppose I?ll have to bite the bullet, finally, and turn to matters Albion once more. A week or so ago, in the Hawthorns pub pre-match, I think I remarked to the assembled company there that I thought Easter weekend would surely make or break our entire season ? and boy, have I been proven right. Not that I wanted to be, of course, had everything gone to plan, we would have been giving Derby, Blues and Sunderland not a bit of concern, by now, but for a variety of reasons, not the least of which has been incompetence of a spectacular degree over the course of recent games, one now has to seriously question whether or not the play-offs are a realistic target to pursue.

Maddening? Of course it is: being witness to every single second of our recent collapse inevitably brings powerful emotions into the equation. I?ve already vented my spleen about yesterday, so I?ll leave that one out of it for the moment, but here?s tomorrow?s deal. We currently nestle in fifth place, with Southampton and the Dingles in sixth and seventh respectively, just a point behind.

Astonishingly, and, in no small measure, aided hugely by their unexpected Hawthorns success, we now see bloody Stoke coming up on the blind side at this late stage in the game. And they do have a goal difference not all that far removed from our own, the inevitable result of previously-prolific successful strikes drying up for us, I guess. Norwich currently reside in fourteenth spot, on 53 points, some 13 behind the play-off places. With a game in hand over everyone else in that part of the table, making six games remaining for them, that gives a possible 18 points from what?s left. Improbable, but not impossible, sad to say.

Sink us without trace tomorrow, and the psychological boost given unto Delia and all who serve in her would be enormous. Remember, sixth place generally goes to the club coming up with the best finishing run late on in the game. In theory, they?d be sorted at the semi-final stage by an opposing club enjoying a far lengthier tenancy of that part of the table, but as far as football is concerned, forget theory: pure jam, be it in the form of a debatable refereeing decision, or a fortuitous strike, can completely trump even the most determined and well-resourced bid to escape the strong gravitational pull of this division. That?s why the play-offs are universally regarded as a bit of a lottery, isn?t it? Great for neutrals, but horribly nerve-shredding for those with a vested interest, of one sort or another.

Should Norwich grab all three points tomorrow, and we fail to achieve same, there?s huge potential for end-of-season disappointment brewing, not to mention matchday protests of a potentially more proactive nature than merely slinging programmes in the direction of the home dug-out. And, between you, me, and the corner-flag, I strongly suspect that we?ll be returning from Carrow Road with sod-all to show for our efforts tomorrow evening, deservedly or otherwise. What a way to spend your birthday: watching our lot under-perform away from home, and sending both my adrenalin levels and blood-pressure rocketing sky high unnecessarily because of all the attendant frustrations of the situation.

The thing that really bugs me is what I perceive to be the increasingly uncaring attitude of some of our so-called ?better? players. There?s yet another article about one in particular currently doing the rounds, this one suggesting he?s on his way to either Seville, where the marmalade oranges come from, and the club looking for a replacement for Kanoute, or AS Roma, and their wonderful followers. Aw, you work out who I?m on about here. The thing is this: as I see it, some clearly couldn?t give a monkeys what happens either way: promotion, no promotion, nuclear strike, whatever ? lured by the weasel-words of agents, other managers and/or club chairmen, they?ll be out of there come the season?s end, and rapidly heading towards the promise of much more in the way of remuneration for their matchday services. What?s a troubled Championship club ? and its increasingly brassed-off supporters - to them?

Aw, sod it: enough of the navel-gazing. As it?s an early start for all four of us tomorrow (coaches depart at 9 am), I?ll be looking to make this a comparatively brief effort: dozing my way through the greater part of the action is not a sensible course to take, really. As you might have already twigged from the above, The Noise will be giving our entire coach the benefit of his many thoughts concerning our recent collapse tomorrow, no doubt: it?s for that reason we?ve tasked The Fart with the role of acting as ?recoil? for his more excitable efforts at pre-and post-match conversation. Even so, You Have Been Warned??

So, what?s the situation regarding the probable side, then? Presumably, Joe Kamara will be giving us the full benefit of his striking expertise, finally. Perhaps I should rephrase my last remark to read ?his company?, given his remarkable lack of scoring success, of late. Against that, we probably won?t have either Clem or Sodje ? after yesterday?s showing, the least said about that guy the better ? also Darren Carter, who passed the ?ten-booking? mark, and will now be out for the next two games. (Incidentally, I now notice that yesterday?s second Stoke strike HAS been put down as an ?oggie? after all, so Greening has an unwelcome stain on his record, now, sadly. Against that, I don?t think he could have possibly avoided the ball, even if he?d wanted to, and in those situations, deflections can end up absolutely anywhere, up to and including Row Z ? but not in this instance.)

Other likely changes? A quick whooftie around the Norwich sites seems to indicate that they will be looking towards fielding an unchanged side from the one that hit pay-dirt at Hull on Saturday. There are slight injuries to Dion Dublin and Adam Drury, but not anything liable to prove unduly troublesome, apparently. Assuming that?s the case, then prepare to see Darren Huckerby making free with the goals at our expense.

As for our lot ? I?ve already gone through who?s hot and who?s not ? it?s looking increasingly as though we?ll be performing with a ?codged-up? ? what a lovely Black Country expression, that ? central defence, consisting of Macca and Alby, more like than not. But with a ?proper? reserve keeper this time round, chaps? Not having one at all on Saturday isn?t exactly a shining example of the sort of progressive image you want to present to the world at large, now, is it? Being keener than mustard itself, and heading straight towards the very place where the stuff?s manufactured, I?m willing to bet we?ll see a continuation of Jared Hodgkiss?s right wing role, tomorrow. For me, he certainly did more than enough to get the nod, on the basis of an excellent second half performance. One of the few that came out of that Stoke game with any real degree of credit, as far as I?m concerned.

Could be starts for Zoltan and Darren Carter, tomorrow, after yesterday. But who will have to drop to the bench, I wonder? Only four from a possible six ? Koren, Greening, Koumas, Chappy, plus the above - can play. For my money, I?d go for Koren ? again, his performance yesterday was a half-decent one ? Koumas, on account of his proven ability to turn a game, leaving Greening and Chappy to sit this one out.

Strikers will prove no selection problem, presumably: Joe Kamara will start, in all probability, partnering Kev Phillips, I suspect, with Shergar and The Duke kept in reserve for a last-ditch assault on the Carrow Road defensive stronghold should the turn of events make that necessary.

And there you have it. Having gone down that road lots of times before, and ended up looking extremely silly, I?m not going to even try to predict the outcome of this one ? but, as I commented earlier, I really do fear the worst.

And Finally?. Belated mentions for:

a) Jean Homer?s cat, Zoltan, who celebrated his birthday on Saturday, and what?s more, Jean has the pictures to prove it, said mog being captured on camera, first of all sniffing his card, then trying to eat the blasted thing! Talk to her nicely, and she?ll show you.

b) Elderly Albion nut Cyril Randle, who recently got into a spot of bother with some Walsall Council jobsworth or other regarding the vexing question of whether or not he chucked chewing-gum out of his car window recently. Being of a generation that would never dream of doing such an antisocial thing, he quite naturally took great exception to being hit by a sixty quid on-the-spot fine, and vowed to take the matter to a court of law for final judgment, the hearing taking place just a week or so ago. Result? Walsall Council 0, Cyril 1, I?m pleased to announce! I?d have provided a much more detailed account of how he did it, had I been able to access Cyril?s words from our other machine ? and that brings me neatly to?..

c) Once more, our newest PC is giving us both some serious grief. Last Friday night, it was only by a song and a prayer I managed to get that day?s offering out on the internet at all: the blasted thing entered some sort of crazy loop again ? crashing, then firing up, then crashing, again, all totally without warning, and still doing it tonight, hence my previous words about Cyril Randle and his court case ? which led to copious swearing on the part of this column, much chucking around of inanimate objects, and vague threats to do to the thing what astronaut David Bowman did to spacecraft supercomputer HAL in ?2001 ? A Space Odyssey?.

That?s the tenth occasion this machine has developed that particular fault, to date, and to say I?m losing my patience rapidly is about the equivalent of quietly admitting that the Universe is quite a big place, much bigger than Wolverhampton, even, after all?s said and done. Should you see E and S headlines in the near future about some mad axe-woman on the loose in the Bearwood area, taking out every single example of IT she comes across by means of frenzied attack, local rozzers will have no need to look very far for the prime suspect, I?ll wager.

 - Glynis Wright

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