The Diary

25 September 2003: Red-Eyed Thoughts On Last Night

Cor, what a bloody trip last night, but as we won, there?s not going to be too many complaints from this source. My main problem, right now, is tiredness, and it?s a real matchstick-under-the-eyes job, not some sort of half-baked surreptitious yawning stunt perpetrated upon one?s nearest and dearest for the sheer hell of it. As you?re reading this at all, you?ll know that last night?s offering proved to be something of a marathon undertaking, so much so, it was around half-five by the time I eagerly awaited the caresses of Morpheus (who, in case you wondered, doesn?t play for Inter Milan, he simply puts you to sleep ? just like certain media-people!), from the warmth of my pit. Having expected to sleep through midday and beyond, what surprised me was my awakening at around eleven. What didn?t surprise me was the fact that after doing this and that little errand, I then sat down to read the papers at around three that afternoon - and promptly hit the old zeds again!

As it?s not three or four in the morning this time, I?m now in a position to offer more reasoned comment about last night?s win. I still think it was largely three-cornered luck we had at The Vic, but with that, I have to hand it to our manager in dollops, because by introducing Dobes and Clem when he did, he got things dead right. Totally changed the probable outcome, they did; that free-kick of Clem?s was a blockbuster, make no bones about it, and having Hartlepool?s Westwood sent off courtesy that professional foul of his on Dobes was an absolute gift from the gods. Their manager reckons the dismissal was harsh; I wasn?t in a position to comment either way, what with being located at the other end of the park, and the fact the floodlighting wasn?t really worthy of the name, but considering the referee wasn?t fit to take charge of a hot-dog stand, never mind a game of professional football, I do have considerable sympathy with the bloke for what happened.

While I?m in my unusually conciliatory mood towards our manager, I have to say I agree entirely with the praise he heaped on AJ for his performance last night. Clearly, he was rather miffed by being dropped, and sought to get himself back into contention with a wonderful display of grit, passion and courage, which certainly impressed me, and just about every Baggie who witnessed the game. For me, the Pools free-kick on the edge of our box not long before the final-whistle perfectly summed up what AJ was about. When the whistle blew for the infringement ? by Deech, who must have had a brainstorm by attempting to play leapfrog over his opponent in such a blatant manner, it could have cost us dearly ? it became abundantly clear to all of us stood behind the goal that the wall was badly-constructed, to say the least. Not only that, but there were around three or four of the opposition stood on the far post whistling Dixie, with nary a Baggie marker in sight. Luckily, AJ quickly spotted the problem, and within milliseconds, his unruly hair began to fly in all directions, and his lips and mouth began to shape themselves into what must have been truly awful curses on the heads of his colleagues; one of those times, I?m awfully glad I lack lip-reading skills. And, because of his leadership and commanding presence, when the kick was finally taken, it narrowly missed its target. Surely his display has earned the lad the right to start versus Stoke on Saturday?

One thing that does concern me, though, is the continued below-par form shown by Hughsie. Last night, the old fire was distinctly lacking. Of all the Baggies players on the pitch last night, I would have bet anything you care to name that Lee would find it comparatively easy to adjust to Hartlepool?s tactics; after all he played in the Conference for a hell of a long time with Kiddy, and as any watcher of footy at that level will tell you, it?s a dog-eat-dog sort of game down there. The sort of tackles that would get a First Division performer a yellow card, or worse, are simply waved ?play on? as a matter of course, so performances are generally not for purists. Bearing that in mind, plus the fact the home keeper clearly disliked being close and personal with opposing players, I would have thought Hughsie would have made his life absolute hell ? but it just didn?t happen.

Also of concern was the relative quiescence of Jason Koumas. Again, he?s played at Division Two level, and comparatively recently, as well, so it?s not simply a case of being unable to adjust to Hartlepool?s mindset. The old magic simply wasn?t there. Worrying, because at Palace on Saturday, he also had a quiet game by his standards. I?m just hoping it?s a temporary blip, not a by-product of too many international commitments, and normal service will be resumed versus the pesky sods from the Potteries on Saturday. Having said all that, looking upon my half-filled glass once more, another player who put in a pleasing display was James O?Connor, who was at his waspish best in the middle of the park, giving our opponents what-for in no uncertain terms. No prizes for guessing why he wants to be included in Saturday?s line-up. Oh, soddit ? we got the win in the end, so why am I bitching? If we can carry all that hunger and desire to surmount the odds into our next League game, I reckon the chattering classes will be silenced for once, come five pm.

One item of news that cast something of a blight on our victory last night was the revelation that poor Siggy would be out for a month following his withdrawal through injury at Palace last Saturday. It?s his knee that?s the problem, and the last I heard, he was due to have an op today to remove a piece of errant cartilage. Presumably, the little blighter causing the trouble has been torn, or roughened; the op consists of shaving the offending bit off, and he?ll be out for three or four weeks because of it. Ouch. At least we should have Volmer and Sakiri back and champing at the bit come the weekend, according to the E and S today. Spare a thought, though, for Greegs; he missed last night?s victory because his missus had gone into labour. Presumably, he?s a very happy dad by now, but give it a few days, and what with his new arrival wailing fit to bust day and night, he?ll be mighty glad to return to Meggo bending his lugholes back once more!

And finally?.. Further to my recent piece about headstones for Baggies wishing to convey their love for the club from beyond the grave, here?s a little tale from Albion nut Dave Watkin, which, he assures me is - er - dead on the level, and irrefutably, one step further than "Albion 'till I die!"

Apparently, Dave was chatting to a Crystal Palace supporter in the Portmanor pub before Saturday's game; after a while, the conversation then turned to how much the Palace-lover enjoyed that 2001/02 promotion deciding game against his own side at The Shrine. He told Dave that he'd been in a pub not far from the Hawthorns talking to some Baggies fans that day, and during the conversation, one of them, a girl, said that her father would also be at the game, his first attendance for some time. She gave the impression that he was in the pub with her, but when, half an hour later, he still hadn't joined them, the Palace fan asked where he was. In response, she then produced an urn from her bag, placed it on the table, and said, "Dad always dreamed of seeing Albion promoted, so I've brought him with me!"

Anyone who knows the lady concerned, feel free to reveal all! And that?s it; I?m having a night off tomorrow (blimey, after my type-fest last night, I well and truly deserve it!). I?ll be back on Friday night with more stuff, and my assessment of our prospects on Saturday. Until then, hang loose.

 - Glynis Wright

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