The Diary

05 November 2007: Our Best Three-Pointer To Date - At Last, It's All Starting To Come Together!

Want to know something? After completing yesterday?s offering, and still as high as a 747 jumbo-jet, in the wake of yesterday?s marvellous Vicarage Road win, try as I might, sleep constantly refused to be my boon companion for what was left of the night. Markedly-raised adrenaline levels were primarily responsible, I suppose, sustained through ink-black nocturnal hours by gradually increasing awareness of just how significant a boost this win this had given to our current promotion campaign.

A slow start there may have been, back in August and September, and one exacerbated somewhat by the fact that Mogga had taken a close-season machete to the side, but by doing so, also clearing the remaining underbrush hindering further progress. Given the sheer magnitude of such changes, and the multitudinous problems inherent in speedy replacement by much more visually-attractive and cost-effective stock, it was hardly surprising we failed to gel as a cohesive side, at first, but it didn?t take too long before everyone was ?on-message?, as New Labour policy wonks like to term such things.

With more than a third of the current season gone, and everyone on Planet Albion now knowing, to an almost intimate degree, each other?s principal strengths and weaknesses, we now seem to have a much more thoughtful, intelligent, bunch doing their thing out there. This was perfectly illustrated during yesterday?s performance, where the thinking was, constantly, not so much about ?how much will this particular goal/stop/tackle help get me noticed by the media/Premiership club scouts?? as ?will what I?m about to do help us get three points from this game??

Sure, there were mild outbreaks of so-called ?showboating? during the game, and talented footballers wouldn?t be human if they didn?t succumb to such temptation on occasions, but after yesterday?s sublime display of footballing artistry, no-one connected with the game at our level can be left in any doubt whatsoever that this is one hell of a juggernaut that is, by anyone?s lights, rapidly attaining increased momentum of frightening proportions. If we can just maintain similar rates of progress right into the fag-end of the current campaign, then God help anyone that tries to get in our way.

The fact I was unable to grab my nightly EEC quota of zeds can also be lain at the feet of our favourite football team in yet another way. I?m probably not alone in this, but even now, every single time I close my eyes, all I can see is that amazing succession of pin-point Albion passes strung across the pitch just before that second, crucial, strike; delightful stuff, taking the ball into just about every bit of green turf it could, and ?Im Indoors, sitting beside me, quietly intoning: ?fifteen?..sixteen??. seventeen?.eighteen?? and so forth, and only finishing when we eventually lost possession fairly deep in their half of the pitch, my other half having long reached (and passed) the ?twenty? mark by then. And then came Albion?s second, amazingly speedy, strike, given the sheer number of passes we strung together after Watford had restarted proceedings from the centre circle, and that after we?d regained possession within the space of a minute.

No wonder the sandman so adamantly refused to take a house-call at our place in the wee small hours of yesterday morning! Whatever form future displays of Baggie brilliance may take, in households where the real fanatics reside, mere sleep-regulation hormones have no alternative but to settle for a very poor second best on these occasions. So assured was this display, so close to sheer arrogance on our part, yesterday, I can only assume that the only factor preventing several of our side from cheekily taking the stunt into hyperspace was not so much it would flagrantly contravene the laws of the game, more that by doing so, we?d also transgress those of basic physics.

It was also refreshing to hear various post-match comments coming from the lips of both managers, totally devoid of rancour of any kind, and with Ady Boothroyd strongly refusing to lay any blame whatsoever at the feet of the match officials, who weren?t exactly ?flavour of the month? in the eyes of the home crowd, at least, come the time for the ref to wrap up the party for another week.

You can?t even begin to imagine how good it feels to open Sunday papers, as per usual, then see the Watford gaffer hold up his hands, and say the footballing equivalent of ?mea culpa?: i.e. ?it?s a fair cop, guv, we screwed up, and for that, we can?t blame anyone but ourselves. Albion were the better side on the day, we couldn?t match ?em, so fair do?s to them??

Compare and contrast the sheer honesty, not to mention positivity, of that sort of post-match interview, with what appears to be almost a PR template for sourpuss Premier League gaffers, these days, especially the big boys: e.g. ?We?re as sick as a whole aviary full of parrots, right now, Des/Gary. The dressing room down there is like a morgue, and my boys still can?t believe what happened.

?Gladys Scroggins, busily knitting jumpers for her grandson in the front row of the seats behind the dug-out, was primarily to blame for this defeat. The constant clicking of her needles upset the delicately-balanced concentration of our forwards, so I?m afraid we?re going to have to ban her from attending United/Liverpool/Arsenal/Chelsea games in future. The ban will also extend to Fred Bloggs, who used a white hanky to blow his nose every single time we tried to defend a corner. That distracted our keeper so much, the opposition grabbed that blatantly-onside injury-time winner you saw, so he?s got to go as well!....?

Well, you get my drift: both Ferguson and Wenger are past-masters at it, of course. Whinge, whinge and double-whinge ? and, during games at least, heavily reinforcing their slowly-destructive gamesmanship lessons by the simple expedient of making very noticeable ?watch-tapping? gestures in the direction of the bloke in the middle, once the 45/90 minute mark has been passed, and the game?s living purely on borrowed time. Should any or all of these inflammatory-minded gentlemen ever end up on the wrong (right?) side of a much-needed transformation of Damascene proportions, and, what?s more, acquire sufficient bottle to make a public pronouncement to that effect, it wouldn?t come too soon for me.

Returning to the matter in hand once more, only the most curmudgeonly and verbally-stingy of Albion supporters could fail to appreciate the sheer number of ?positives? we could take from yesterday?s performance. I have to say I was, if anything, disappointed to see that not all the Sunday papers, be they tabloid or broadsheet, gave Zoltan Gera the credit he so richly deserved. For all I know, the bloke could well have been playing for the continuance of his first-team place, and, taking a much more cynical viewpoint, vying for the attentions of possible Premier League purchasers too, but whatever your thoughts on the matter, yesterday?s game surely had to be one of his best ever in an Albion shirt?

From the moment the ref first blew his whistle to start the game, to its dying moments, the bloke never once slowed his remarkably accurate impersonation of a very angry wasp trying to exact painful revenge from innocent humans for wanton juvenile destruction of its nest: a constant ?in-in-your-face?, loudly buzzing presence, rapidly flitting from individual to individual in the never-ending quest to right a clear wrong. And, by Christ, it bloody worked. So great was Gera?s nuisance-value, up front, in our own box, wherever, Watford simply couldn?t cope, with the end results you so gleefully witnessed yesterday.

But even the most visually attractive dwellings have to be given strong foundations: without that, further building work may prove impossible to undertake. So it was for us: as I remarked in yesterday?s account, during the opening period leading up to that inaugural Miller goal, had you asked for my opinion of current progress, I would have proffered a gloomy prognosis indeed.

For most of the time before that, it was the home side giving us many testing moments, and both Deanno and defenders having to shift smartly to extricate us from any possible slips into the mire, so looking at the situation from the objective viewpoint, that opening strike from Miller came very much against the run of play. What was supremely good about that time was the fact that our defenders not only weathered the aerial storm well, they then went on to give both midfield and strikers sufficient confidence to take the game to the opposition, and hit them fatally. The next time any of you see Messrs. Kiely, Albrechtsen et. al. in the street, shake them warmly by the hand, they bloody deserve it.

The background to our second strike you all know about by now, and yes ? if anyone can point me in the direction of TV footage of that amazing succession of passes, I?d be very grateful for such assistance. Having racked my brains extensively since the event ? yes, I know, cue for jokes innumerable! ? I can?t recollect any previous Albion side ever having sufficient cheek to pull off that same stunt with such aplomb, not even one of Ardiles design.

Personally, I reckon that, more than anything else, was the moment that prompted Watford to decide, mentally at least, that further resistance was useless, and waved the white flag of surrender. Nobody who was there, not even the kids, will ever forget that fabulously-orgasmic sixty seconds or so preceding it. I certainly won?t, that?s for sure. And woe betide any glory-hunting Premier League armchair supporter who tries to tell me that delight in visual skill is only obtainable via a relentless TV diet, consisting almost entirely of Greed League live fixtures. ?Rollocks?, say I.

As I see it, we?re now very much at the stage where we are within clear sight of our optimum starting eleven. The extensive tweaking and tinkering with the side has finally reaped dividends. At Vicarage Road, there was very little to see to prompt me into raising serious doubts about the abilities of any individual whatsoever. A little more fine-tuning, with possible strengthening of back-up in some key positions during the ?window?, and - ?By George I Think We?ve Got It!? so sod the bloody Rain In Spain.

As for the vexing rain-cloud predicted to form over Zoltan Gera?s contract talks, and recent concerns voiced by the player himself (or, more likely still, his representatives!) about the future continuance of his soul-destroying spell on the bench, the solution is clear. Give the little bugger the green light for a regular first team start, then get that contract extension sorted, PDQ. Not what you?d call rocket science, by any stretch of the imagination. I await future developments with interest.

And Finally?.. By now, surely it?s only the Dingles that can still be disputing our proud claims that yesterday?s Watford clash had to be one of the most entertaining games seen at Championship level this season, thus far? But there was an additional factor at work to ensure that our lads brought home the bacon in fine style, folks - and it?s this. Every single time we?ve done well on the road, who has been watching from the stands?

Anyone wishing to invoke a divine presence of whatever religious provenance, Christian, Islamic, Hindu, Judaic, Moonie - Flat Earther, even - can forget it. Nope, our current rank good fortune stems, without question, from a much more secular source, so take a well-deserved bow, Mister Noise! That?s right: despite recent sickness meaning he has to ration his appearances on ?foreign soil? these days, The Noise has yet to see us lose away from home, this time round.

Bearing that in mind, then, our next move is blindingly obvious. The next time away tickets are up for grabs, and the game concerned isn?t being televised, I guess popular public opinion will strongly urge that I pick up that darned phone immediately, ask for Jayne, The Noise?s long-suffering missus, then, imploringly, tearfully, almost, repeat the following words: ?Hi, Jayne, you OK? Errrr - oh, by the way, can Martin come out to play in a fortnight?s time??.?

 - Glynis Wright

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