The Diary

20 September 2003: Bulls Go For A Burton!

?Four-one to the Albion, four-one to the Albion?..? No. I?m not having premonitions (fantasies?) about tomorrow?s trip to Sarf London, it?s just that I?ve not long returned from Burton?s Albion alter ego, who turned Hereford United over by the above score. Something of a turn-up for the books, really, as Hereford are (were?) top of the Conference, and Nigel Clough?s Burton were, until tonight, bimbling along quite contentedly around the halfway mark. Tonight?s victory is only their second at home thus far this campaign; I?m given to understand they travel very well, but usually can?t do the biz on their own turf.

At least the traffic problems that beset us before and after our trip to Wigan last Tuesday decided to take a short weekend break tonight; the only hold-up we encountered was on the A38, where they?re resurfacing the road, and there?s a contraflow in operation. Should be fun for those going to Hartlepool next Tuesday afternoon, but while we were crawling along, we managed to catch The Fart doing his thing on Franksy?s Radio WM phone-in. As it happened, both Jeremy Peace and Mike O? Leary were the guests on the show, so El Tel took the opportunity of putting some of the outstanding questions from yesterday to our Chief Exec. Unfortunately, we?re even more puzzled about what?s happening to the Throstle Club now, as The Fart was told on-air that there were no plans to completely shut the place down, the club were just going to restrict the opening hours to times (e.g. weekends, matchdays, Friday night etc.) when they could expect to see a goodly numbers of thirsty customers through the doors. Strange, that, because it?s in complete contrast to what we were led to believe was going to happen. Oh, and we still haven?t got an answer to the Hartlepool/Gillingham ticket conundrum, though, to be fair, I think Mike misinterpreted what El Tel had to say. Suffice to say our tame Boer War veteran will be pursuing these and other matters via a phone call as previously stated.

As it?s not that far from our gaff to Burton we were there in good time to find parking space, though not in the car park, which was completely full. Instead we chose a berth about five minutes walk away, at the far end of what seemed to be a municipal football pitch, goals and all ? and what an awful playing surface it had, as well. Not only was there a well-worn path running diagonally across, and right through the centre-circle, a short way from that part of the pitch, a drain-cover peeped coyly through the parched and yellowing apology for grass that covered it. I dread to think what would happen in terms of liability if a player ended up injured as a result of falling on the thing during play. But that was a minor detail; once across its width, we found ourselves outside the home end, eight quid in, and three more each to transfer to the stand. A cup of coffee for ?Im Indoors and a Coke for me, and we settled in our seats, fully primed for action. While we were waiting we nattered to a genial sort of chap, naughtily-swigging from a flask seemingly well-primed with falling-down water, who turned out to be a Derby supporter, but had lived in West Bromwich during the forties, fifties and sixties. His proud boast was he?d seen us play in the Victory Cup Final in 1945, and nattered to us enthusiastically about the 1954 Cup-winning side, and in return, we supplied him with details on what had become of them - some sadly deceased, of course ? but as I listened to this chap and his Baggie memories, I couldn?t help thinking The Fart would have really relished talking to him tonight! It was from the lips of this chap we also heard a little tale about Russell Hoult?s first game for Derby. Apparently, he?d just arrived there from Leicester ? I suspect on loan ? and just a couple of minutes into the first game for The Rams, he bent down to gather up an innocuous sort of ball, but in one of those awful ?Oh, S***? moments that beset professional footballers everywhere, instead of running home nicely to Daddy, the blasted thing chose that moment to squirm playfully between his outstretched hands, run under his body ? and, yes, you?ve guessed it, right into the back of the net!

As for the game itself, within minutes of the kick-off, Burton were looking much the better of the two sides. Very well organised, they were, they defended in depth, picked up every loose ball in midfield, and proved very adept at banging into the box wicked looking crosses, stratagems which the Hereford defenders found extremely difficult to cope with. Oh, and every Hereford incursion into the vicinity of their box found at least two Burton defenders instantly closing down on the player concerned, nullifying instantly any possibility of damage. No surprise, then, that The Bulls quickly found themselves a goal down, and try as they might, they just couldn?t find a way through that stubborn rearguard of Burton?s, who increased their tally to two just before the end of the first half. Burton?s seeming inability to curl up and die, as per script, must have really infuriated the more volatile element of the away supporters because, during the interval, there occurred something I haven?t seen on a football ground since the seventies or the eighties. When the second goal went in, the home supporters, situated in a stand running the length of the pitch, and adjacent to the away end behind one goal, began to taunt their black and white-shirted counterparts. For the bull-lovers, this was an insult too far, and come the interval, they rushed the home enclosure en-masse via the pitch, and there was sod-all the few stewards present could do about it. Matters then degenerated into a free-for-all punch-up with people clearly getting hurt ? one poor sod, already down, was treated to ?the order of the boot? by one of the opposition to a sickening degree ? and the real saviours of the situation proved not to be the brightly-jacketed officials, but the Hereford players themselves, who took it upon themselves to part the warring factions. A brave thing to do, as it could so easily have turned out pear-shaped for them.

Back to the football, then, and not long after the start of the second period, Burton added a third. Oh, whoops. The visitors seemed sunk, but substitutions were given a go by Richard O? Kelly, one of whom was our very own Danny Carey-Bertram. This seemed to inject new life into the Bulls, who, within about a minute of the change, got one back, courtesy of our friends, good old-fashioned passing and movement. Suddenly, it was Burton?s defence that was rocking and rolling ? and not an Elvis impersonator in sight! To me, it seemed only a matter of time before The Bulls reduced the deficit further, but in one of those moments of sheer madness that plague all football teams from time to time, with an easy punt upfield in prospect, and under very little pressure, one of their defenders chose instead to give the ball away on the edge of their box. Thank you very much, said Burton, and three-one instantly became four-one, with only ten minutes to go. Game over. I?m afraid ?Im Indoors had an acute attack of the sulks on the return journey; what with us dipping on Tuesday night, it must have been galling to see his ?other lot? crash so spectacularly tonight as well. Never mind ? just like us tomorrow, the acid test is going to be whether they can bounce back from that blip in their promotion prospects. Apparently, they play Telford at home on Tuesday night, so the final score on that one should be interesting, to say the least.

Returning to the subject of the mighty Baggies, it?s off to Selhurst Park we jolly well go tomorrow, and just like The Bulls, we too have to demonstrate we can put Tuesday?s reverse right behind us. It?s looking pretty much as though Volmer will be out, so presumably Gilly will deputise in that position. There?s also a question-mark about Sakiri, though not quite as big as the one currently hanging over Joost, as I understand it, but of one thing I?m certain. There will be no return to the formation we played at Wigan on Tuesday night; the order of the day surely has to be our good old 3-5-2 combo, with, presumably, Hulse and Hughsie up-front and eager to do a little damage to the home side?s goal-difference. I?d like to think we?ll get back to our winning ways tomorrow, as Palace did start the season quite brightly, but have gone backwards of late, and are now around mid-table. But, as you?re well aware, this is West Bromwich Albion we?re talking about, so just about anything could happen tomorrow! I?ve stuck my neck out by forecasting a 1-0 win, so if I don?t get it right, feel free to have a good giggle immediately after the final whistle.

And finally?. One. That revised date for the Cardiff game. In my almost-somnambulant state last night, I misread what Julian Rowe had to say on that email of his. I thought it said the 2nd. of November was the revised date, but as Julian kindly informed me today, it was the 4th. Oops!

Two. ?Albion ?till I die?? How many times we?ve all sung that on matchdays, but now, according to one monumental mason in Heath Lane, West Bromwich, those who snuff it can now take that ditty one stage further, by having the club crest and blue ribbons incorporated into the headstone on their grave. Those who want further details can grab the story from the pages of the E and S, but a thought?s just occurred to me concerning a refinement to the theme, which might prove even more lucrative for the gentleman concerned. What about, in addition to the Albion stuff, two lovingly-sculpted stone (inverted) fingers facing the direction of the Custard Bowl, and just to reinforce the point, a suitably-pithy inscription on the headstone itself?

 - Glynis Wright

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