The Diary

30 September 2007: A Rebound Sunday Roasting For Rangers?

Before I kick off tonight?s effort, let me just make one thing really clear: it?s all about Last Tuesday Night. I?ve drawn a line under it: banished it from my brain: it?s gone forever: it?s quit this mortal coil: it is no more. OK? There?s lots of lessons you can learn from the decidedly murky political career of Soviet dictator Uncle Joe Stalin, and airbrushing unpleasant events and situations from a country?s collective memory just happens to be one of them, as far as I?m concerned, hence my present reticence to expose recent objectionable Albion proceedings to public gaze, once more. Forget it. It?s gone. So there.

Turning quickly to other matters, I?m currently penning this piece hard on the back of watching highlights of the Pompey-Reading game, as shown on tonight?s Match Of The Day: if ever footage ought to be titled ?How NOT To Do It?, then this has to be the one. Seven goals to the South Coast club, with but four in reply for Steve Coppel?s biscuit-crunchers ? it has to be re-labelled ?Reading?s 90-minute long suicide note? surely?

True, the intelligent, but wonderfully-erratic David James featured large for the eventual winners, first of all stuffing up in typical spectacular style ? anyone out there remember his magnificently-ghastly blunder for Man City against us, when he was playing for them, the one that gave us the much-needed away point that sparked off a successful fight against the drop, for us? ? but gaining eventual redemption via a brilliant penalty save for Pompey.

All the goals I saw were of an unusual nature, be they via freakish deflections, eccentric goalkeeping (see above), or simply plain ornery rotten defending, Reading being the guiltier party of the two on that score, as I saw it. Wonderful stuff, and a real tonic after weeks and months of the more robotic stuff normally provided by that league?s top six-standard performers. Oh ? and while I?m on that sort of tack, I?m willing to bet I?m not the only one giggling mightily at seeing Chelsea?s stranglehold on the top of the table coming spectacularly adrift, right now, in the wake of Jose Mourinho?s somewhat acrimonious departure from Stamford Bridge. Just a bloodless draw against ?nowhere men? Fulham today, chaps? If I were their new leader, I wouldn?t be putting a deposit on houses in the London area, just yet.

But back to the more realistic world of Championship football, and to sundry matters connected with it. Most of today has been spent in the company of a chap called Ed Vilade, of whom I made mention just a week or so ago. His principal claim to fame, for the benefit of those who didn?t manage to catch my words at the time, is not that the guy has been a speechwriter for George Bush ? he has, and what?s more, performed the same service for many other US politicians, both Republican and Democrat, too ? but (much more importantly, as far as I?m concerned) that he is also the grandson of former Thirties Albion favourite Tommy Magee. This morning, my other half took the trouble to visit both Ed and his lovely wife, mostly to make sure he?d settled into his hotel accommodation, close to the ground, OK ? only to find they that he and his missus were having a minor laundry crisis!

The reason? The place they were staying at had a laundry service, OK, but they were just a teensy bit naughty with it, charging by the item, and the equivalent of an arm and a leg for it, too. ?Ridiculous? snorted my other half, so he then rang me (I?d stayed at home, as I wasn?t feeling too good at the time), and asked if it was possible for them to do their dhobeying in our machine. ?No problem: bring it over!? said I, and that?s why we had the pleasure of the company of a US political speechwriter in our humble abode this morning!

Much to my amazement, their hotel?s room charge did not include breakfast either, which came as a nasty shock to both, so while their stuff was drying, we took them to a local pub to get stuck into a welcome meal. It was then that I discovered what Ed?s wife had in the way of qualifications: two geophysics degrees, both of Masters standard, would you believe? If only for the sheer amount of mathematics involved, I?ll treat with the utmost respect anyone who has that sort of thing lurking after their name.

Both of them being semi-retired these days, their principal activity is travel, either in the continental US, or elsewhere. Not an activity followed by too many of their more parochial countrymen, I have to say, which is a bit of a shame, as if they did so, they might well become a little more closely acquainted with the miscellaneous doings of the rest of this planet, up to and including global warming. In seven days time, or thereabouts, they will be boarding a big silver bird at Heathrow, and heading off for the shores of sunny Spain, so fair play to them, I say.

A word of praise, here, for the Supporters Club, who have managed to pull out all the stops for this charming couple. Prior to tomorrow?s game, main-man Alan Cleverly, complete with ?Terry Pratchett? hat, no doubt, will be taking them on a conducted tour of the photographic memorabilia to be found adorning the walls of the East Stand; those who have attended functions there will know that much of it concerns the Thirties, when we appeared in two Wembley Cup Finals, and winning the first, versus Blues, in 1931, Ed?s illustrious (but truly diminutive: he was only an inch or so taller than little ole me, it would seem) forebear featuring heavily in both the preliminary rounds and the Final itself. I?m also given to understand they will be given additional access to stuff not normally on public display, and a meeting with current Albion players and officials laid on after that.

Once they?ve both recovered from all that, they?ve promised to join our little party in the Hawthorns pub: shouldn?t be difficult, that, as Alan, being on the Committee, has to be over there prior to the game, in any case. Given the somewhat diverse nature of our group, I?ve also taken the liberty of providing both our friends with a brief mental picture of everyone associated with us, pre-match: basically, if you think of what?s said in this column, you?ll get a pretty fair idea as to the nature of my ?briefing?. I await with considerable relish what they both make of The Noise!

But that?s not all: after the game?s finished, they?re going to head on out to The Vine, where even more Albion culture awaits them. Mostly in the form of Asian cuisine, ?tis true, but with a soupcon of various other Baggie-related activities chucked in for good measure, as well. If only he could have persuaded George Bush to come, too: had he done so, I?m pretty certain, that between the lot of us ? The Noise, plus his two very bright kids, all at their garrulous best when discussing such matters; The Fart; this column; ?Im Indoors ? we could have arrived at some kind of mutually-acceptable solution to the Iraq crisis for Georgie-Boy, and without too much in the way of agonising, too. Hell, after the third or fourth pint, aided and abetted by a surfeit of chicken tikka kebabs, no doubt, we could even have sorted out an environmentally-friendly solution to global warming for the lad, not to mention the many dangers held for this planet of completely unchecked nuclear weapons proliferation!

On Monday, the spotlight turns in the talented direction of our good buddy John Homer, who will be taking Ed and his lady wife on a private tour of the Black Country Museum. Having had the chance to fill them both in about the varying delights to be found there, I even explained to his missus that there is a genuine connection between at least one of the old buildings reassembled there, and myself.

As those of you who have been will know, one of the Museum?s most prominent (and popular, if the crowds are anything to go by) features is their recreated Black Country shopping street, circa 1920, I would guess. And, unlike some similar reproductions I?ve come across, every bit of brick and mortar there is genuine, each and every shop premises actually having been a viable concern at some time or other, later demolished on behalf of The Black Country Museum, then reassembled on their site, lock stock and barrel.

And it?s with one of those shops, a Netherton chemists, former owner an eccentric called H. Emile Doo, that my connection lies. Back in the mid-sixties, I well recall visiting that very same shop to sort out a prescription - and once inside, being completely captivated by the interior. The reason? As I just said, the owner was a genuine 24-carat eccentric, his main claim to fame being leaving all the fittings and fixtures of the place permanently trapped in a between-the-wars timewarp, right down to all those stock-bottles with faded labels, telling of medicaments long-since banished from the pharmaceutical armoury, thanks largely to the discovery of antibiotics, and their mass production, during and immediately after World War Two.

Just eyeballing that lot gives you a massive insight into how pharmacy worked ? or didn?t! ? between the wars, most medicines available then being of botanical origin, and very little of the stuff actually effecting clinically-proven cures for the prescribed ailment in question. Stuff like willow-bark, which gives you aspirin, digitalis, which comes from foxgloves, and herbs like mint, a good aid to digestion, back in the days when numerous people suffered from stomach ulcers, just to give you some examples. Anyway, that?s my predominant link with the place: I can only hope that Ed and his missus find that long-dead pharmaceutical gentleman?s premises just as fascinating as I did, all those years ago.

Thanks to Ed also needing to go onto our PC, and access some stuff to do with what government work he still undertakes, there?s another aspect of ED?s work that?s left us with a totally unexpected (and restricted viewing only, apparently) link between us and contemporary US politics! Sadly, were I to disclose the precise nature of this message, I?d very likely end up in one of those cute orange jumpsuits, with matching ironmongery adorning both wrists and ankles, and taking an unrequited not-so-short vacation in Guantanamo Bay, so being the complete pragmatist that I am, I won?t - so on with the rest of tonight?s show!

In total contrast to The Recent Events I Refuse To Mention, we should have our full muster both present, and in complete readiness, for this one. The only exception that springs to mind, right now, is Robbo, who might not be completely fit following the nasty knock he received at the tail-end of You-Know-What. As I said in my last effort, every single one of those players will be under no illusions whatsoever: they sure as hell owe us one, and hopefully, it?ll be QPR departing from the Hawthorns with their legs between their tails, as a result.

Apparently, there has, of late, been a pretty favourable response to Albion?s promotional offer for this one, to be shown on Sky also (hence all the bargain-basement promotional stuff throughout the media, lately!). My understanding is that tickets for the cut-price shindig have now largely sold out, and that should ensure as near a capacity crowd as you would wish for. And I?m also damned sure that our performance will be a much improved one, also. Having said that, being currently second from bottom, QPR will be pretty desperate not to fall further behind the relegation pack, so it?s no good whatsoever expecting them to go large on the pretty stuff.

So what?s what, then? As far as we?re concerned, it?s as sure as the Pope is a Catholic that there will be wholesale changes wrought from Tuesday night?s ill-fated team selection. Back in the midfield frame will be the likes of Gera, Tex (who earned fulsome praise from our frankly-admiring gaffer, recently: all to do with his highly professional attitude towards both the game and our club, apparently), Greening and Koren, thank goodness. The goalkeeping question looking after itself, of course, in our rearguard, expect to see the likes of Alby and Barnett back and in full working order. Shelton Martis? Who? ?Nuff said.

On the flanks and (hopefully) charging full-tilt for Championship glory, expect to see Hoefkens start, but whether he?s accompanied by Paul Robinson will largely be determined by the magnitude of the knock he picked up last Tuesday. Personally, I fear the worst for our tough-as-old-boots campaigner?s chances of making it in time, but there are other options available at a push, of course.

As for the engine-room, as I?ve already indicated, that?s where the most upheaval will fall. From what our gaffer has said already about Tuesday, it?s highly likely that the axe will be taken to the likes of Brunt, Chappy, Morrison, not to mention the unfortunately-nicknamed Pele. That would mean welcome returns for all the personnel previously mentioned in lights, of course, which just leaves the composition of our strike-force to be determined. Unless Mogga?s contracted a death-wish over the course of the last few days, expect to see a Hawthorns return for Kev Phillips tomorrow, with his goalscoring efforts largely aided and abetted by Ishmael Miller, and a return to the bench for Craig Beattie, so notably unsuccessful in the wide role found for him versus Cardiff.

Having dropped to fourth in the table through not playing today, we need to make up for the deficit tomorrow, if we are to keep things bimbling nicely along according to plan. As for as the top six were concerned, leaders Watford (17 points to date) caught a bit of a crab versus Blackpool, drawing 1-1, second placed Charlton (15 points) also drew 1-1, but away from home, as did third placed Bristol City (14 points), but bloodlessly. The general upshot is that if we should win tomorrow, that would stick us plumb-spang into second spot, no messing, if only until the earlier part of next week.

Stoke, who had a chance of overtaking us with a win, only managed to draw away with Gary Megson?s Leicester side today, while Scunny, clinging to the spot below that currently tenanted by Stoke, got there by virtue of a pretty good win at Colchester, who are no pushovers at home, by any means. Naturally, should we not do the biz with Rangers, that could well mean us having to beat those awful Stokies to keep us up with the leaders.

Given their impressive ?embuggeration factor? when it comes to games involving us and them, especially those bone-crunching examples (yes, ex-Stokie and Sky pundit Chris Kamara, I mean YOU!) played during the course of the late eighties and nineties, I?d much rather not have to rely on our players coming up with the goods come Wednesday evening, thank you very much. Let?s hope it won?t be necessary, and should we not only resume our winning ways in style tomorrow, we can also wow neutrals with the sheer quality of our football. Fingers crossed? Yep ? and my legs: after all, a gal can?t be careful enough these days, can she?

And Finally?? Joe Kamara, sent off playing for Fulham (Tut! Tut! -who would have thought it?), and young Curtis Davies, giving away that goal for Villa, on his midweek debut for the phocine persuasion versus Leicester, currently managed by You Know Who, of course. Oh whoops! Still want to be Premier League performers now, chaps?

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index