The Diary

30 October 2007: An Albion-Dingles Reserve Quickie - With A Bit Of Palace-Watford Too.

If ever watching a game involving potential promotion rivals was capable of giving rise to ?food for thought?, then right now, Mogga must be raiding his medicine cabinet for every indigestion remedy in sight. I am, of course, referring to Palace v Watford, which the visitors won 2-0. The Hornets looked every inch the waspish sort of nuisance value their nickname would suggest. Having only just got back from the Albion-Dingles reserve game at the Hawthorns (see below), we only managed to take in the second half, but from what I saw of Watford on the box, we?re going to have one hell of a job at Vicarage Road simply keeping them out, never mind grabbing one on the sly, then shutting up shop. With attack-mindedness very much to the fore at our place, we simply don?t do that kind of thing - end of.

Two things were also of interest during the bit of the game we managed to see. First off, Palace brought on a lad midway through the second half, name of Bostock. His claim to fame? Well, the lad?s not yet 16, even, a fact that strongly suggested to me that either Warnock?s mob were really desperate, or that lad had something special about him. Going by the performance he put in tonight, I very much reckon that the latter?s the case.

You would have thought he?d be very much awed and intimidated by having to play at that kind of level at his tender age ? but, nope, he wasn?t, the opposite, more like. In fact, the way he smacked the ball around, and stood up so well to challenges ? both legal and otherwise - from players of far more experience, you wouldn?t have guessed, had you not been told already. Well done, Warnock, for having such faith in the lad?s abilities, but you do wonder just how long he?ll stay a Palace player, if he can maintain that sort of form? Palace being a London club, albeit one nearly in Croydon, it won?t be long before scouts from Spurs, Chelski and The Arse come sniffing at the new young pup in the pound.

My other observation? That concerns the lad once known as The Duke to Hawthorns regulars, viz: Nathan Ellington, who came on, very late doors, for Watford. As far as the few minutes he was on the pitch were concerned, he didn?t exactly set the football world on fire with his scintillating ball or footwork skills, but what he did have was the mother and father of all beards, and one very much in the style favoured by those following the Islamic faith, too.

What with there being far too much religious intolerance in the world today, and everything, I?m not going to push the following too far, but one look at that fungal growth on both chin and chops, and I couldn?t help but feel that journeys by air wouldn?t half give the lad no end of bother from the security people ? and as for visiting the States with that lot nestling around his mush, forget it!

So much for Adie Boothroyd?s lot, then, and on to the other game we took in tonight (some would argue this was the more important of the two, mind!), the reserves encounter versus The Dingles, at our place. Interesting, very interesting?.. But what a glorious chance to completely wipe the floor with them chucked away so cheaply. Much to our surprise, we fielded a side top-heavy with forwards, four in all, Craig Beattie included ? and the daft thing was that during the first half, at least, it most certainly paid off.

Literally within minutes of kicking off, we broke their offside trap, to my mind, perfectly legally, but the lino thought otherwise, to ear-splitting howls of protest from the packed ranks of blue-and-white stripes-lovers sitting in the Halfords Lane Stand. I have to say that when his flag went up, I was more or less in line with the play, and even though I can be considered a teensy-weensy bit biased concerning all things to do with Dingles-Albion encounters at any level, I thought the Baggie lad concerned to be perfectly onside and not off- but then again, it?s not my shout, is it?

But, no worries ? within a minute or so of the lino upsetting the whole of the Baggie persuasion, many of whom were very familiar faces indeed (we all came out for this one, it would seem, just like a horrid rash), we broke the offside trap again ? and this time that blasted flag stayed down. Off went Slusarski, as if half the population of Wolverhampton was about to lynch him, and on reaching the edge of the box, carefully placed the ball beyond the Dingle keeper?s reach. One-nil up, and what a good effort it was, too.

Around two minutes later, precisely the same thing happened, only this time it was Bednar who profited from the defensive largesse provided by our local rivals ? plus a teensy assist from Craig Beattie, of course. Our lead was instantaneously doubled, and in the Halfords Lane Stand, there was much rejoicing on the part of those loyal Baggie-believers who?d braved the autumn chills to watch this one.

To be perfectly fair, the visitors could have got one back in between, courtesy a Dingle called Salmon, but his shot was aimed straight at our keeper, so didn?t get him anywhere. Having said that, not long after we?d gone two up, we should have inflicted yet more damage upon them, courtesy Shergar setting one up for Bednar, all on his lonesome in their box, but one of their defenders somehow got there first and stuck in a timely interception. Not that it mattered: around ten minutes later, Beattie sent Shergar clear, putting the ball away courtesy a chip over the custodial Dingle?s brainless head for Albion?s third. But the sods still had a smidgen of fight left in them, as demonstrated by their lad Hughes, who, after getting the better of a confusing tangle of players of both persuasions, found the ball bobbling about in there somewhere, forced it through the lot of them, and right over the line for a Dingles first goal.

It?s a bit like seeing a soppy little poodle scrapping with another dog, then tasting blood for the very first time in its entire canine existence. The light-bulb suddenly goes on in its head, and in one almighty rush of adrenalin and nerve, it suddenly remembers what it was put on this planet for in the first place. The same applied to our unwelcome visitors: no sooner had they racked up that opening goal, The Dingles were looking far more dangerous than they had for most of the half.

It looked bad towards the end when the ball fell to striker Freddie Eastwood, lurking with malice aforethought on the edge of the box, but no sooner had the long-range effort left his boot, Luke Steele was well up to the reflexive challenge, his classy stop tipping the ball right over the crossbar for a corner. Thank goodness for that ? now, can we have half-time please, ref?

It was the opening few minutes of the second period that proved to be the turning-point of the game; no sooner had we settled in our seats again, when the ball ended up in the visitors? net once more, a strike that would have restored the three-goal cushion ?twixt them and us, but that wasn?t to be, sadly. The ref reckoned that Slusarski was offside, so the goal didn?t stand. Hard to say whether it was or not, as perspective can do some funny things to eyesight, when watching something from the sort of angle we were positioned at. That?s why I don?t usually take issue with dodgy offsides from linos when situated behind the goals, so it would hardly be fair for me to express an opinion one way or another, really.

The big problem after that, though, was stopping the sods, who were, by then absolutely champing at the bit to reduce the deficit even further, something that was, eventually, to bring them right back into the game once more. Maybe the balance of our side was all wrong, and maybe we should have been a tad more proactive with some changes from Shakey in the dugout, but suddenly there seemed to be a positive swarm of gold-and-cack hell-bent upon upsetting us even more than they had already.

Their persistence wasn?t long in finding its reward: with the second half around a third of the way through, a cross from the left picked out a stray Dingle in our box. He had ago, the shot was blocked, but another of the irritating so-and-so?s was right on hand to mop up the rebound. 3-2 was the score, now, so things were getting a little too sweaty for comfort for the home side.

The really annoying feature of the game was the fact that we could and should have wrapped the whole thing up with around ten to go. Shergar was the first offender, grabbing the ball on the fringe of the box, then letting fly with everything he?d got ? which wasn?t enough, sadly. The ball shaved the heft-hand post by the narrowest of margins, and a few moments later, Slusarski, heading straight at the keeper from close in, stuffed up (that must have been his very last touch of the ball in this one), so the scores on the doors stayed the same ? but not for long, and most certainly not in our favour.

It had been coming for quite some time, and despite Shakey finally subbing Beattie and Chaplow with Worrall and Compton with 20 to go, then, around ten or so from the end, Slusarski with Morrison. What happened? Well, first of all, the Dingles, in the persona of Hughes, hit the bar with an almighty whack, then, three minutes from the end, our luck completely ran out. Highes was, again, in the thick of things, laying the ball off to their lad Rosa, who slotted it away without too much bother. Parity restored, to the delight of those Dingles who?d bothered to make the journey from their rubbish dumps, and the palpable disgust of our own people. Oh dear.

And Finally?.. Just before I nip off to complete my OU assignment in ?proper? writing, rather than my usual illegible scrawl, ready to hand in tomorrow, here?s a sad little tale about a certain Dingles striker called Freddie Eastwood. Surprising to see him turning out for their second string tonight, really, but he couldn?t have enjoyed it much.

Not long after the start of the second half, he had to retire through injury, at which point I divert momentarily from the task at hand to ask one simple question. Did those alleged Albion-supporting cretins seated elsewhere in the Halfords really have to embark upon an ear-splitting chant of ?Gyppo, Gyppo?.? as he slowly trudged towards their bench? He may be of traveller stock, but I?m willing to bet he won?t forget the chants in a hurry, and vow, there and then, to avenge that nasty little racial slight come the time when both clubs next meet in earnest.

But I digress. Once sat on the bench, their physio then produced an enormous ice-pack for Freddie, which the lad promptly applied to the affected member, and looked most relieved to have done so, too (it?s an ill wind, and all that jazz ? will he be fit enough to play in their crunch game versus Bristol City on Saturday, I wonder?).

As the much-needed ice-pack did its lump-shrinking work, I was puzzled mightily; as I pointed out to my other half at the time, being of Romany extraction, a race reputed to be very skilled in the ancient art of combating sickness and injury by judicious use of natural remedies, not to mention various psychic gifts, you would have really thought Freddie would have already had the perfect healing potion for the problem ready and waiting, wouldn?t you?

 - Glynis Wright

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