The Diary

18 September 2007: Ashton Gate, And A Trip Down Memory Lane.

Now we?re approaching the end of what so risibly passed for a summer in these somewhat supersaturated climes of late, the payback for international tournament qualification games, necessitating ?lost weekends?, just like the one ten days ago, has really started to kick in at our level. Just like in science, where you can?t create energy, or destroy it, only convert it into a different form of energy, lose what amounted to a full weekend programme, and you then have to start playing midweek catch-up, further down the line.

The Prem, the nation?s answer to the Softies of Dennis The Menace fame, only have to fulfil 38 fixtures per season. We Championship lesser-lights, on the other hand, have to hunker down most carefully in preparation for the full-blown 46 games-per-season onslaught - Cup runs of various kinds excluded, of course - and, by implication, all the additional midweek games God can rain down upon we unworthy sinners. And that, my friends, is why we?ll be speeding down the southbound carriageway of the M5 around tea-time tomorrow, my fellow Baggies, although I do also harbour the tiniest of suspicions that common or garden masochism has to come into it, somewhere.

Ah, good old Ashton Gate, a very familiar stamping-ground indeed for this column, in days of yore. Well, having worked in the area for well in excess of ten years, it?s hardly surprising that?s the case. And well do I recall the banter that used to take place in my ?local?, the Fleur-De-Lys, situated in the village on the outskirts of the city where I used to work.

There were, in fact, three locals, all of them within reasonable walking distance, but the Fleur, as it was known, was the one in which I felt vastly more comfortable, the other two being geared up more to meet the needs of various other demographics, one of which was the ?huntin?, shootin? and fishin? set, and not my cup of tea (pint of cider?) at all. I might go to one or the other after the end of my shift, but that was down to the standard of their catering, not to a sudden inclination to share their company.

The fact that football supporters innumerable, and lots of ?em what you might want to call ?characters?, seemed to make the Fleur their spiritual home, also played a large part in my final choice. As for the clientele, a two-way Rovers/City split seemed to predominate, with a sprinkling of followers of what later generations would call ?glamour clubs thrown in as well: needless to say, this was well before the time Sky came to poke their sticky little fingers into the domestic game.

Given the fact that Albion were supping at the top table for a significant proportion of my time down there, let?s just say that bar-room discussions could get pretty passionate, at times, especially during the early eighties, when it seemed a virtual no-brainer that Bristol City, disastrously hog-tied by long-term, financially-ruinous deals associated with player contracts, would go to the wall, as surely as apple-juice would ferment into scrumpy, given a smidgen of ?assistance? from the odd dead rat or two.

Given all the above, it won?t surprise you one little bit when I say going back to Ashton Gate will be an exercise in nostalgia akin to, say, an Army veteran returning back to their old regimental training depot, following an absence of many, many years. Much has changed since those happy times of over a quarter of a century ago, both at Ashton Gate and elsewhere, but one thing certainly hasn?t changed, in the Robins? nest ? and that?s their disgracefully-cheapskate solution to the post-Taylor report requirement that they had to create an all-seater stadium within three seasons of getting promotion from what was once the Third Division, to what is now the Championship.

Their answer to what was an all-too-common dilemma facing newly-promoted clubs with largely-terraced stadia? Well, the first bit, simply bolting seats onto what was formerly away-end terracing, the resultant lack of a decent ?rake?, meaning visiting punters had to stand if they wanted to see the game properly, was a logical, albeit non-user-friendly, development, but as for the second bit ? oh dearie me. Whisper it quietly, folks, but when they slapped down the aforementioned seats, those they installed lacked backs, so, in effect, visiting supporters end up sitting upon what are, to all intents and purposes, stools!

And yes ? my other half did check for me prior to compiling this piece: Bristol City?s arrangements for visitors are still the same, so if you?re like me, and have significant back trouble to contend with, I would strongly advise you to take a goodly dosage of pain-killers, prior to entry through the turnstiles!

There is one other common factor binding myself to Ashton Gate with a force as strong as molecular attraction, and that?s a certain Bob Taylor, once a true denizen of the City, and now a much-revered and loved former Albion goalscoring icon. And yep ? just as we did, they too worshipped the very ground Supes walked on: in fact, I have it upon good authority that when he was stretchered off during the course of one particularly fraught Ashton Gate encounter, the ambulancemen carting him away found it extremely difficult to make significant progress in the direction of the players? tunnel and dressing room. Not because of sudden complications leading to a significant worsening of his condition, mind, just that Bob insisted on putting forth an outstretched arm to sign autograph books innumerable, all proffered by small (and not-so-small!) kids ? their ground is a pretty compact one - every single inch of the way!

That?s the gist of the personal background, then, so on with the present-day stuff we go. Perusal of one of their supporter websites leads me to the swift conclusion that they regard our visit as one of the principal highlights of this, their first campaign in the upper deck for around nine seasons. Describing us as a side ?that on paper, oozes class for this division? and: ??play 4-4-2, have pace down the flanks, creative in midfield, and, in Kevin Phillips, one of the deadliest strikers in the division?..? and acknowledge the fact that a result against us would lend belief to the supposition that, far from fighting relegation, they intend ending the season with a League position more than commensurate with their short and medium-term ambitions.

Yet more evidence that we are, in our own little way, acquiring a similar cachet, in terms of cash resources available for use at this level, to the likes of Man U and Chelski, of the Prem, but one comparatively modest in terms of accompanying arrogance, thank God. I hope! Predictably, their supporters reckon that the path to victory lies within whatever capability they have to snatch at goalmouth chances that happen to come their way. The key to that lies in their ability to retain the ball far better than they did against either Coventry or Sheffield Wednesday: Albion, they acknowledge, ?are different class up front.?

After reading that little lot, I quickly reached the conclusion that, as an entity, City supporters were stirred, but not shaken, at the rapidly looming prospect of having to do battle with us. And, of those strikers that worry City so much, who will get the nod tomorrow night, and who will have to sit this one out, either on the bench, or spectating in the stand? With the rotation system Mogga seems to be employing, these days, we can lay all the known variables down on the table for scrutiny, and try to work it from there, but even so, with no less than five proven strikers to choose from, nothing can be categorically ruled out, can it?

Given all that, the ever-onwards march of time could well see Old Man Phillips, in his dotage at age 34, sitting this one out, either on the bench, or simply watching the others do all the hard yakka. Well, I mean: scoring late, ever so late, braces at that age doesn?t half take it out of you, so much so, in Kev?s case, the makers of both Sanatogen and Phyllosan must be dancing in the aisles every single time he turns out for us. If a benching should happen, then it?s likely Craig Beattie will start tomorrow night. The very fact his striking colleagues have finally found the way to goal, but not himself ? well, not to any large extent, comparatively speaking ? should concentrate his mind wonderfully, methinks.

The next obvious question, who will get the managerial nod to partner our ex-Celtic chum, is a potentially interesting one. When he went off versus Ipswich, Isiah Miller looked completely cream-crackered. Would Mogga want to risk starting him again? Or will he go for either Slusarski or Bednar, with yet another striking option, Shergar, a possibility? Not easy, is it?

As for the remainder of our starting cast-list, once more, we have a positive plethora of choices. Now he?s had a break from the stresses and strains of international football, Zoltan Gera should be starting tomorrow night: his undoubted class will surely be welcome down in ?zoider country, ?oo arrr, me ?owd beauty?. Koren also looks like a pretty safe bet to start, now he?s left his injury woes behind him. Jonathan Greening will surely make up one of the four in the engine-room: as for who will fill the last vacant berth, perm any one from about five.

Defence, both central and on the flanks? Although he still worries me to some extent, Barnett?s name will be one of the four on the team-sheet, no doubt, with Alby comprising the second defensive pillar. As for the two given more licence to roam, Hoefkens is an injury doubt, apparently, so if he isn?t fit in time, then we?ll have to go with someone else, which would mean another chance for young Jared to shine, possibly. As for the remaining berth, then it?s Robbo all the way, bleached-blonde stubble and all. Aspiring to emulate that all-important ?beach bum? surfer look, or, like The Noise at his place of work, merely trying to find his ?Inner Piglet?? Could be a very fruitful topic for dressing-room discussion, that!

Given our wealth of riches on the playing side, it?s pretty clear, this time round, we probably won?t get clobbered by the one important factor that laid us low last term, and that?s lack of choice in team selection. For every key position, there?s an understudy or three waiting patiently in the wings, all of whom eagerly await their true moment of destiny.

But there remains one essential chink in the armour, still, and you don?t need to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what it is, either. Just look in the direction of our goal, and behold the man that currently guards its portals: yep, I?m referring to Dean Kiely, but not in any derogatory way, of course. The man is more than worth his weight in goalmouth gold bullion, but just as you don?t like to speculate what will happen, come the time when your nearest and dearest finally kick the bucket, not many of our supporters seem to be unduly perturbed as to what manner of goalkeeping horrors might be inadvertently unleashed should Deanno get injured, either during the course of a game, or during training.

The fact that for the most part this season, we?ve chosen to operate without goalkeeping cover available on the bench speaks volumes for me. Sure, I do realise that there are special transfer rules applying to goalkeepers, should a club experience severe injury problems in that particular sphere, but it would be much nicer if we didn?t have to worry at all, if you get my drift. Given the robust way in which Deanno customarily defends his little rectangular fiefdom, some sort of nasty knock to his anatomy ? or, Heaven forfend, a red card, or similar - can only be a matter of time, surely?

As for the eventual outcome of tomorrow night?s exertions, I?d like to think we?ll not come away from South Bristol disappointed to any great degree. Sure, they did give Saturday morning table toppers Coventry an almighty kicking, metaphorically speaking, but even with the best will in the world, The Ricoh Stadium is hardly a footballing Mecca, is it? In any case, if we are to have reasonable expectations of upwards mobility, come the end of the current campaign, then it goes without saying, almost, that we have to start winning League games on the road pretty soon.

Our current home record, no defeats, to date, is a superlative one: repeat that sort of form away from home, and we?ve got this division sussed, just about. We know we have players with sufficient skill to do the job, and likewise, Mogga certainly seems to be shaping up to be the one to lead us from the valley of the shadow of death. The only thing lacking is good old fashioned belief, on the part of supporters and players alike. Make tomorrow night happen, and that might be the tipping-point that sees us on the road to the stars, in less than eight months time.

And Finally??. They do say God moves in mysterious ways, and, after perusing the Dingle And Blah tonight, I guess the same could now be said of our chairman. According to that august organ, Jeremy Peace has further consolidated his grip upon the club by increasing his current shareholding to over 50%. This was apparently achieved via the purchase of an additional 2,380 shares from supporters willing to offload theirs, at ?80 a throw. As there?s a 21-day ?cooling off period? involved, it won?t become fact until shortly before Albion?s AGM is due to take place, on October 15th. That closing date is significant, mind: should he land up with the shares he wants, from that time on, if he wants to buy up further shares, he doesn?t have to make a further offer to all existing shareholders, just proceed on an individual basis.

There are a number of people not very happy with what?s been going on. Three of the club?s independent directors, Joe Brandrick, Mark Jenkins, and Jeff Farmer, have told Jeremy that his offer undervalues the club, so there could well ensue an EGM in order for the share structure to be formally altered. It?s thought that he wants to bring the club into line with other Midland outfits by taking overall control of everything, thereby ending the present system, where shares are, to quote the E and S: ?spread out through the community?. At present, around 1,400 of Albion?s 1,600 shareholders hold 10 or fewer of 90,759 shares.

So. That little lot leaves us with but one burning question: why does he want to acquire all those gash shares? The fact he can exercise sole control of the club is a powerful incentive, of course, but another purpose does spring to mind: that of ultimate sale to another moneyed individual, and given the current climate, very likely a foreign one. Not that we supporters can do an awful lot about it, of course: you?d stand more chance of leaping off the platform at Rolfe Street Station, and, by dint of putting both outstretched arms before you, arresting the progress of the next available express train in full flight! A depressing thought, all the same.

 - Glynis Wright

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