The Diary

22 September 2003: Hoddle Hops Off

I was expecting it, but I never thought they?d act so quickly. I?d assumed the axe would fall later this week, but it seems Spurs wanted to get the dirty deed over and done with quickly, in order to facilitate the rapid recruitment of a new incumbent. What am I banging on about? The sacking of Glenn Hoddle, of course, announced as we both watched the Man U-Arsenal game on Sky earlier this evening. It?ll be interesting to see who they choose as a successor, and also whether ex-Albion coach John Gorman will take up his bed and walk as well, although he might stay in a caretaker capacity until a replacement takes up the reins. I can see why Spurs chose to dispense with the services of the former England coach; as things stand, they are in the drop-zone, and the North Londoners must be getting a tad panicky right now. Having said that, though, I can?t help feeling they?re doing a Sunderland: i.e. talking themselves into a crisis where none really exists, which might become a self-fulfilling prophecy now the ship?s without a rudder. Think back to when Peter Reid was given the bullet, and you?ll follow my train of thought. Normally, clubs like Spurs simply don?t allow themselves to land in a relegation crisis. They have massive resources, a strong squad, and the sort of infrastructure that attracts talented players like flies to a jam-pot. Sure, they?re on a losing streak right now, but even if they?d not taken the decision to dispense with Hoddle?s services, I really couldn?t visualise them preparing for Nationwide football next May, although it might be fun to see them take the drop on the principle it?s high time a well-endowed Premiership outfit previously considered bomb-proof got theirs. It?s a nice thought, but I?m assuming they?ll get the next appointment reasonably right, and this time next season, everyone will be wondering what all the fuss was about, but if they do cock things up, the only people rubbing their hands with glee will be their local rivals and the sports journos, who will be grateful for all the copy. In the case of Villa, I still live in hope, but that?s by the by, and in any case, there?s incontrovertible proof I?m hopelessly biased!

Back to the Nationwide, then, and a few more musings on yesterday?s game. As I was quietly mulling over events yesterday, the thought did enter my mind that, perhaps, Houlty might have been at fault for Palace?s sickening last-gasp equaliser. I haven?t seen the goal replayed on TV as yet, but as I remember it, their bloke let fly one hell of a shot, which Houlty did well to parry, the ball then flew out to the lurking Andy Johnson on the left, who banged it in, no messing, and had all the time in the world to do so. My thinking, therefore, ran along the lines of whether Russell could have done more to push the ball out for a corner, rather then merely deflect the thing, which is always pot-luck at the best of times. On balance, though, I?ve come to the conclusion that England?s Number One couldn?t have done much more with the shot than he did; my recollection is of seeing our keeper horizontal, with his arm at full-stretch, when it happened. Perhaps, instead, as I said yesterday, we ought to be asking pertinent questions as to why Derry was allowed to get the fatal shot off in the first place.

It was also illuminating to read the Palace?s manager?s comments on the game; he said that in the first half, they ?played (Albion) off the park?. I wouldn?t go so far as to say that, but I do distinctly remember turning to my other half during that torrid opening spell, and remarking that the opposition seemed to have done their homework as far as we were concerned. I know ?Im Indoors didn?t agree with my assessment of the situation, but as far as I could see, they?d managed to stop us playing to a certain degree, which was the object of the exercise. I was also disconcerted (again, see yesterday?s musings) by our inability to hand on to that last-minute lead. This disturbs me, as it would imply our rearguard lacks the sheer cussedness of their predecessors of two seasons ago. I suppose, in conjunction with the worrying inference our stripy bastion wasn?t capable of soaking up those Palace incursions, you might also ask yourselves the question as to why we resorted to Wigan-style tactics of packing the defence and leaving only one up front when we went ahead for the second time. I would have thought another goal would have settled the matter beyond all doubt, and given the eight-minute period of extra time, Palace would have had an awful lot to worry about had we taken the game to them instead. You can?t score if the ball?s constantly in your half of the field, can you? Still, it?s no good crying over spilt shots, is it? Let?s hope we get that frustrating setback out of our system by Tuesday night, then concentrate on giving those Stokies what-for, come next Saturday.

Steve Sant, a regular correspondent to this column, was telling me that before yesterday?s game, he met a Palace-sympathising couple, Gail, and her bloke Greg (an Aussie Charlton fan as well). Apart from being intrigued by the origins of the 'boing', they also had a view on our local rivals with the much-perforated defence; they said, with some feeling, they simply didn't like the atmosphere at Molineux. The whole place felt unwelcoming, menacing, even, not intimidating, like Newcastle or Anfield, just 'nasty'. A bit like the Den used to be, in fact. Gail was in receipt of a thrown burger to the head as she stood admiring the Billy Wright statute before their recent game with Charlton, and prior to that incident, they'd tried three pubs, all of which refused them admission. They were just glad to get away in one piece afterwards, and won't be going back. The negative experiences of the South London duo at The Custard Bowl would therefore go a long way towards suggesting why, when we sang, ?Stand up if you hate the Wolves!?, just about everyone in the home end joined in as well, to resounding applause from our lot!

Tomorrow evening, our second-string do battle with Man Urinal at The Shrine, which will mean, no doubt, the place absolutely stuffed with screaming kids, plus their harassed parents. Yours truly will be there, along with ?Im Indoors, and The Fart. After the final whistle, my beloved then bombs off to El Tel?s abode, and a date with our venerable co-editor?s PC, which is currently doing things that would reduce a seasoned IT expert to tears! Hopefully, we?ll get the poor sod sorted this time!

And finally?.. One. In seasons gone by, when we travelled to Palace, one of the ?delights? of our normal selling-pitch was listening to the window-shattering tones of their fanzine editor, Cris Lehmann, flogging his wares on the spot adjacent to our own. A real weapon of mass-destruction, he was; once heard, it took the bones in your middle ear ages to recover from the experience, but when we arrived yesterday, no Cris, just silence! Frantically, we sought an explanation; had our decibel-laden chum gone to the Great Ground In The Sky, or something? Nope, nothing so drastic; he?s just gone to Grimsby to run a B and B guesthouse instead, which, when you think about it, isn?t that much different ? it?s not footballing heaven, that much is true, but it sure is Purgatory!

Two. Shades of that classic Michael Caine one-liner, ?You?re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!?. One of The Satanic Nurses (who deny all involvement in the lyrics of the Sakiri song, by the way!), as Jason Koumas lined up to take ?that? free-kick: ?You?ve only got to get it on target!???

 - Glynis Wright

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