The Diary

28 April 2007: Sunderland Keep Their Nerve Tonight OK - But Can We?

Cor, what a game?.. I?m still trying to compose my thoughts after seeing the second half of that absolute humdinger ?twixt Sunderland and Burnley on Sky, tonight. We?d been over my stepmother?s place that evening, and only caught the last bits of the first half on the car radio, with Steve Cotterill?s Burnley in front by the odd goal in three, surprisingly enough, and those massed Mackem nerves suddenly looking very shaky indeed. Then came the start of the second half ? and just as we were pulling up outside our place, Roy Keane?s lot managed to grab a penalty, The Beast grabbing the ankles of the Sunderland lad with the bladder, then bringing him down just as he was about to pull the trigger.

Very fortunate to stay on, I thought, was our genial former goalkeeping chum from Denmark: after all, I?ve seen keepers walk for much, much less, as you lot all have, no doubt. Previous nerves evaporating into thin air, all of a sudden, Sunderland then buried it with ease, thereby generously donating to what remained of the entire encounter a hefty-looking gobbet of additional adrenalin. Even so, the result could have quite easily gone either way, Burnley proving beyond all reasonable doubt that they?re a absolute sod of a side to beat, when they?re in that sort of bolshie mood. And, at the other end, The Beast was playing an absolute blinder in his efforts to keep the home side from spoiling his entire night: one of the best games I?ve ever seen him have between the sticks, in fact.

Then, with only eleven remaining on the clock, The Mackems finally got what they wanted. It all started after a Burnley attack broke down, the ball then dropping conveniently for Roy Keane?s mob in their own half. Cue for an almighty gap the width of Smethwick High Street to appear on Burnley?s left flank. Had Sunderland spotted it, though? The answer was an unequivocal ?yep?, their lad Edwards running into the vacuum, then gratefully accepting the cross-field pass from Murphy. Off he ran with it, practically unopposed, a few yards further into the Burnley half, then he let fly with everything he had, from, oooh, about 30 yards out, I would say. In it smacked, right into the corner of the net, the home supporters went wild ? and so did my other half, a slightly-hysterical state of $-affairs that did the nerves of all four of my moggies, patiently awaiting their evening meal, no good at all!

Fortunately, Sunderland ? was their Christian fundamentalist/creationist car-dealer sponsor, Reg Vardy, chucking in a few timely prayers also, I wondered? ? managed to weather the Clarets storm, and finished their last home game of Season 06-07 triumphant, much to the delight of their almighty following. Meanwhile, back in Deepest Brum, the prevailing mood of the Small Heath persuasion must have contrasted somewhat starkly with those joyful scenes we saw at The Stadium Of Light, following the final whistle. Had Burnley got a result of some sort tonight, then Blues would have only(!) needed to win tomorrow to grab an automatic promotion berth. Happy? Too bloody right we were.

Enough of other people?s battles, then, and back to the one in which we?re primarily engaged. Looks as though we?re pulling out all the stops for Saturday, thank goodness. The real bonus was getting Macca back, sending-off well and truly rescinded, courtesy those nice chaps at Soho Square. The red card last Monday night was palpable stuff and nonsense ? even Burnley?s manager provided written evidence to that effect, so farcical was the whole thing - although you don?t have to be Einstein to realise that the real damage was well and truly done at the time. And had that ban stood, all four games of it, our prospects of taking something back from tomorrow?s encounter would have undoubtedly looked far from rosy by now.

We really needed a win there, and would probably have had one, bar for Chummy?s unbelievable misreading of what was a straightforward clash of heads, no more, no less. I don?t see that referee being on Albion?s Christmas card list this year, somehow. Had Macca stayed on, we would probably have ended the game with three points in our pockets, and no-one would have been getting their knickers in an almighty twist about ANYTHING by now!

Unfortunately, our initial burst of optimism in midweek regarding the fitness or otherwise of Sam Sodje may have proved premature. Earlier this week, Albion seemed to be making noises to the effect that the lad was strongly fancied to be back firing on all four cylinders once more ? but, as per the undoubted talent of our football club to ?let you down? it now appears that he ?may? be fit, whatever that?s supposed to mean.

And, at first, it looked as though Mogga had recalled Stuart Nicholson from Bristol Rovers to beef up the numbers even more, but that little gem wasn?t all it appeared to be, either. He?s had a stomach muscle problem of late, which has now transmogrified into a definite hernia op next week, so that?s blown that one well and truly out of the water, hasn?t it? Steve Watson? Well, at least he?s definitely back into the fold, and without any ostensible signs of damage to either wind or limb, too, much to Sheffield Wednesday gaffer Brian Laws?s disgust. Squealing (?Owling??) like a stuck pig, he is, apparently. And, after what happened when we played them the other Friday night, ?tough?, say I. As for Shergar, he also should be back in fine fettle for this one, recent surgery notwithstanding.

Despite recent news from Planet Albion turning previous assumptions of having a much stronger side out there by tomorrow into something rather more guarded, I?m still very much inclined to regard Saturday?s game in a much more positive light than I would have done, had you asked me immediately after Monday night?s Turf Moor disaster.

6,000-plus well-up-for-it Albionites heading for the Ricoh Stadium, tomorrow ? why is it we always manage to turn up mob-handed (eg. Pompey, Bradford City etc.) when the heat?s on? ? for a game where there?s sod-all in it save local pride for the Sky Blues, but everything you care to think of for us, can?t be at all bad. In fact, they?ve had a somewhat indifferent run over the course of recent games (see below), and, in any case, we do have the advantage of a half-decent track record of turning Coventry over at their own place. And at ours ? 5-0 mean anything, chaps? Let?s hope that our favourable record will extend to their new home, as well.

Not only that, when they travelled to Hereford in the League Cup during the earlier part of the current season, they were absolutely awful, an embarrassment, almost. The final score, with The Bulls emerging winners by three clear goals, flattered the visitors. Had there been any justice at all that night, it would have been at least six in the rigging for the cider-slurpers, and the visitors? keeper being signed off with chronic backache for at least the next six months.

?Im Indoors reckons that if we could have had the chance to choose our opponents for these last two crucial games, then The Sky Blues, having lost four, drawn one of their last five, would most certainly have come top of his wish-list, with Barnsley, currently only but a point from safety themselves (interestingly, they play Leicester, who also need but a solitary point to keep them out of the Championship manure-heap, tomorrow!) the next side of choice for our 06-07 Hawthorns swansong. But that one?s somewhat in the future, relatively speaking: an awful lot will depend upon what happens at The Ricoh tomorrow, of course. The one ?fly in the ointment? might well prove to be the man in the middle tasked with controlling this one ? bloody Chris Foy! Oh, Lordy, Lordy, preserve us from all evil! Or something.

It should also be illuminating to check out just what manner of apparel our fellow-Baggies will lay their hands upon in an effort to do sufficient justice to our popular defensive double-Irish-act, Macca and Deano, tomorrow. A little late in the day for my taste, and with so much riding on the game, it may end up falling somewhat flat, but Baggies are, if nothing else, ingenious when it comes to such things. (Just ask amazed home crowds at Reading, Blackburn and QPR ? and that?s just for starters!)

We don?t have blonde wigs at our disposal, sadly, but what we think we do have somewhere are a couple of green tops, one of which has an Albion logo on it. Had the forecast been for a day somewhat less warm ? the mercury (the shiny metallic element liquid at most temperatures, not Freddie, honest!) is forecast to hit around 25C, according to the nice Met man with all the seaweed dangling out of his office window, gleefully announcing, in the very same breath, the hottest April on record - we could have shoved on a couple of green sweat-shirts actually purchased in the Emerald Isle but a few years back.

Talk to me nicely, should the outcome prove favourable, and I may even cancel my rapidly-developing theory to the effect that the same evil gremlins who put the mockers on all our domestic appliances, recently, were also responsible for what happened at Turf Moor the other night. (Did I mention our moribund vacuum cleaner as well? I didn?t? Oh dear.) Mind you, I?m still having considerable difficulty with how my pet theory squares with the clear-cut fact of our not strengthening key positions when we had the sodding chance to do so! Any takers? Replies from people bearing the name Jeremy Peace very welcome, might I say!

And Finally?. One. It?s funny how these strange long-suppressed Albion reminiscences suddenly surface, with very little prompting on our part, might I say. This one saw the light of day after some forty years spent in ?suspended animation?, when my big sister happened to comment in passing upon Alan Ball?s untimely demise, at my stepmother?s place, earlier this evening.

Cue for my brother-in-law, Des Garbett, to come up with a memory of the late Everton lad all of his very own ? and having been blessed since early adulthood with the sort of fog-horn voice and lung capacity (not to mention mastery of choice language!) that would have given most Guards senior NCO?s not a little competition, very Garbett-like it was, too. It happened around the mid-sixties, when my crop-headed (it?s all to hide his bald patch, really) relative by marriage used to stand with the rest of our family in what was then the Woodman Corner, our lot entertaining The Toffeemen in a League game that particular day.

At some point during the game, Alan Ball, then around eighteen or nineteen years of age, and still wet behind the ears, practically, came trotting over at a rate of knots to take a corner on that side of the pitch. (I do have a vague idea Everton happened to be chasing the game at that particular time, but don?t push me on it.) Cue for dear Des to bellow at him in tones that would have quite easily stripped the tiles right off the Town Hall roof, a good mile distant, given chance, words to the effect that he was a fornicating ginger-headed person with microscopically-little knowledge of which particular male had contributed some 50 per cent of his DNA, the day his mother conceived him. Oh ? and he was an expert Onanist by nature, as well, which may (or may not) have surprised him! Aw, you get my drift?

According to my brother-in-law, the bum-fluffed-faced Bally?s immediate reaction to Des?s eardrum-rupturing terrace ?comment? was quite spectacular. As those few straight ?words of advice? left Des?s mouth, then reached the juvenile lugholes of their intended target, Alan Ball was seen to jump at least his own height into the air, with a face that quickly became as suffused with red as his hair! Such was his complete confusion, in the wake of Des?s aural blockbuster, he then fell over the ball!

Hardly surprising, though, as it?s a standing joke in our family that Des?s all-too-vocal ?critiques? of Albion performances, at that time, were known to carry even as far as the Match Of The Day microphones, then situated on the complete opposite side of the ground! All we had to do after that was listen to that night?s programme for a ?replay? of those more pungent comments the BBC ?censors? missed!

Two?.. A nice word ? well, several, in fact - for both Hotpoint and Apollo 2000. How come? Well, after our automatic washing machine went kaput the other day, I then rang Hotpoint to arrange for someone to come out and repair the thing. Having sorted that out, we then discovered we couldn?t lay our hands on the receipt we were given when we?d bought it (our appliance was still under guarantee, so we needed proof of purchase to give the engineer when he called). Eek!

 - Glynis Wright

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