The Diary

25 November 2007: Some Pre-Dingles Musings, And More Besides.

There?s lots of people I?d really hate to be. The civil servant who took it upon himself to send those disks containing personal data through the normal post without even registering them first ? TNT do have considerable ?previous? for stuff sent in this way ending up, to all intents and purposes, on the planet Tharg ? so whoever authorised that data to be sent that way in the first place ? and it couldn?t have been a junior member of staff, although one will end up taking all the flak for all this, as sure as Dingles are thick - must be sweating cobs.

I?d also hate being Gordon Brown, who isn?t exactly covering himself with glory, right now. What with all the above, plus mounting criticism from within military circles regarding the conduct of both the Afghanistan and Iraqi conflicts, the Northern Rock thing, his attempts to double the current maximum period for holding terrorist suspects without charge, the rocketing cost of those proposed ID cards, and, for all I know, England?s failure to qualify for Euro 2008, he can?t be a very happy little bunny, can he?

Looking at the same thing from the viewpoint of the supposed unhappiness of those somewhat closer to the beautiful game today, I most certainly wouldn?t have liked to be the poor sod who kept goal for Sunderland at Goodison Park this afternoon. Having to pick the ball out of the net on no less than SEVEN occasions must mean he?s now showing worse back symptoms than me. Ouch! Ditto their defenders: after Mister Keane?s finished with them, don?t be too surprised to hear reports from the Merseyside police of several bodies mysteriously found floating in the Mersey.

But most of all, I would have really hated to be at Edgar Street with my other half, today. Their recent successful Cup encounter with Leeds held something of a horrified fascination for me, and, in all fairness, it was a cracking game, but in no way whatsoever could I get myself all worked up at the prospect of today?s League Two game with bloody Accrington Stanley.

Let me put it this way: remember how you all howled and cursed the night bloody Stoke City came to our place, then cheated their way to victory? Well, Accrington are to League Two what Stoke are to the Championship. That, plus the fact the temperature here was a distinctly chilly 39 degrees Fahrenheit, made me elect to warm my little pink toesies by a nice warm fire instead, thank you very much. In short, I?d rather watch double-entry book-keeping being done than Accrington, so it was very much a case of ?bye-bye, hubby ? hope you enjoy the game?.? for me, closely followed by a flurry of good old-fashioned Black Country cursing as I tried to locate the whereabouts of the remote.

Most females, when granted unrestricted access to the TV in this fashion, make a beeline for the ?soppy films channels? ? but not this one, you?ll be reassured to hear. All I wanted to do was get the remote to take me to Sky?s matchday news service ? but would it let me? Not on your nelly, and it was only after some ten or so minutes trying, when I started thinking of giving it up as a bad job, and turning to Franksy, unintentional double entendres and all (see below), for footballing sustenance instead, that the magic numbers finally started showing in the little box allocated to them.

Still, having finally sorted the problem, all I had to do was just sit back ? and wait for all the scores to come cascading in. Well, results certainly went our way. Watford lost, and so did Bristol City. The only flies in the ointment were Plymouth, who won, despite being rudderless - and Charlton, kicking off around teatime, the latter whupping poor Preston on their own turf. 2-0 it finished, but the Londoners did have a little luck with it.

Towards the end, and the score at 0-1, Preston brought on ex-Baggie Darren Carter as a last-ditch measure. And it nearly succeeded, too, some good work from him supplying the ball that almost led to the home side equalising. Sadly, though, Preston?s chief failing is that they can?t hit a barn door, even at point-blank range, which is precisely why they are where they are, right now.

But, as I said, this one did have an air of rank bad luck about it: from that Carter corner, in injury time, the ball whipped across the six-yard area, then fell loose for a Preston player, more or less unmarked, to do what he wished with his unexpected bounty. And he did, but typical of Preston?s awful luck, the visitors? keeper somehow palmed the ball away from about four or five yards range; there is no way on this earth that he could have done so with malice aforethought from there, so the save just had to be a purely reflex affair. From the resultant corner, the ball then landed at the feet of a Charlton player, who set up one of his colleagues to break out of defence, which helped lay on the strike that well and truly hammered in the final coffin-nail on the Deepdale mob.

Maddening, that, because had that one gone in, then Charlton would have dropped two valuable League points, and finished below us. That sodding Charlton keeper prevented Preston doing us a massive favour ? remind me to roundly kick his shins when they next come to our place! Something tells me that they?re going to prove a massive hindrance to our ambitions of going up automatically, long before the current season?s done and dusted.

And, in the meantime?.? Yes ? the Hereford game did end in a goalless draw, but it was when His Nibs finally got back, later that evening, I had quite a surprise. For starters, instead of trying to gouge and kick half of Graham Turner?s side halfway to the Bulmer?s Cider factory close by, they actually tried to play it to both feet and floor, for once. (Blimey, had someone had the whole lot of them injected with strong opiates, pre-match, I wonder?). Not only that, it might have been only 39F here, but in Hereford, it was a good ten degrees warmer, no less!

That I can only attribute to what I once dubbed the ?Lickey Bank Effect?. Below that range of hills, on the southern outskirts of Brum, the temperature and weather is invariably different to that prevailing at more elevated climes. The next time you have to use the southbound carriageway of the M5, try it for yourselves: check the outside temperature (not forgetting the weather) at Junction One, then as soon as you go past the Droitwich TV transmitters, check it all again. Nine times out of ten, I?m willing to bet that the results you get will be markedly different.

And talking of ?hating to be someone?, what about the failure of England to qualify for the finals of Euro 2008, earlier this week, and poor Steve McClaren?s subsequent resignation from the post? Most people cursed him and all his works, that fateful night, but all I could muster for the guy was profound sympathy, and in liberal quantities, too.

The reason? Not long ago, we heard the guy speak at an FA ?Roadshow? held at The Shrine, and for me, one facet of his character stood out like a purulent boil: whatever he was, however good he might have been with the small-change of Premiership management, one thing he most certainly wasn?t was a gaffer of national-side standard. A guy ranking a long way down the list of ideal candidates for the job, then, appointed only after those above failed to impress the FA, for whatever reason, chucked into a situation way beyond his capabilities, which is why I felt so sorry for him on Wednesday evening.

The practical upshot of our exit from the competition is our national aside slipping down the rankings to such an extent, we?ve only made the ?second pot? of the World Cup qualification games draw. That means goodbye to the likes of former bedfellows Italy, France and Holland, and a big ?hello? to the likes of Poland, Sweden and, God help us all, oivey, Israel. As I understand it, everything gets resolved tomorrow, but not live, sadly.

And so we now turn to the burning question of who?s mug enough ? sorry, motivated enough! ? to sup from the poisoned chalice that is England management in this hypercritical day and age. To date, the only significant noises from home-grown managerial potentials we?ve heard are from those NOT wanting to get involved at any price, so we can rule out Villa?s Martin O?Neill, for starters.

A bit of a blow for we Baggies, that, as he?s currently in the throes of putting together what I?m convinced will ultimately be the nucleus of one hell of a Premiership side. My worst-case scenario? A Villa outfit, both on and off the pitch, capable of using Randy Lerner?s considerable financial muscle to challenge the established top four order. If anyone is capable of inspiring our neighbours to achieve that aim, then O?Neill has to be ?yer man? every single time.

As for the rest of the field, Mark Hughes of Blackburn says ?I?d love to do it, but not right now ? ask me in around ten years time?? Will Sam Allardyce, rejected with O?Neill last time round, express similar sentiments, I wonder? As he?s only just gone to Newcastle, I suspect that will be the case. Even the Special One, Jose Mourhino, has spurned the chance of a tilt at the job for the varied delights of League football in his home country instead, assuming some other European club don?t lap him up like gravy first, of course.

If what the tabloids say is right, then the FA are looking to bring Arsene Wenger into the selection process, on a consultancy basis. Whether the two events are related or not, I wouldn?t dare speculate, but it?s strange how those same tabloids are suddenly pushing the merits of a certain Jurgen Klinsmann, who has represented Germany at both playing and managerial level, and is allegedly now straining at the leash to be given the England job.

Well, he?s certainly got an impressive record, both as a player and at managerial level, and it wouldn?t surprise me to see him get the blasted job ? but it wouldn?t half confuse the hell out of a certain notorious section of England followers. Think about it: one minute you?re bawling ditties like ?Two world wars and a World Cup too??, or imitating the flight of bombers with outstretched arms, while singing the ?Dambusters? March?, the next, you?ve got to contend with the vexing concept of seeing a living breathing Kraut occupying the formerly inviolable sanctum of the England technical area? Not good, not good.

Mind you, should the FA get really desperate for a replacement, there are a couple more aces in the hole they may not have thought about. But still thy wildly-beating heart, Brian Barwick and chums, because that?s precisely what I?ve done, and, what?s more, nobly offering to supply the game?s leaders with the appropriate names gratis, too. So, in the spirit of true altruism in which this is intended, let me suggest the following two people to you all, chaps.

First one? Gary Megson. Now he?s got a big club to play with, at long last, I?m sure it won?t be too long before our national game?s rulers truly realise what a rough-hewn gem has lain undiscovered within the dustier recesses of League football all this time. One positive aspect of selecting Gary: working out what tactics the manager is using in any particular game won?t prove intellectually taxing, I promise. The second likely lad? Our old mate Bobby Gould, who else? But be warned: should the Soho Square squad choose to travel down this particular (padded and strait-jacketed?) road, it would prove a tad difficult to establish precisely who was the barmier!

And so, we come to the bit you?ve all been waiting for, a quick look at what tomorrow might bring for our favourite football club. Much as I detest these fixtures, though, it?s the Dirty Job That?s Got To Be Done, so I do feel duty-bound to be there tomorrow. And, of course, nothing would please me more than to see us, once more, rub their noses right in it! Vindictive? Bellicose? One-eyed? Moi? Never!

What did astonish me the other night was seeing statistics on TV suggesting that over the many years this fixture has been played, on 155 occasions, to be precise, both sides are level-pegging regarding Hawthorns wins. I don?t know where the Beeb got its info from, but the club?s version is slightly different, with the scores on the doors currently standing at 61 Albion wins to Wolves? 52. The fun and games first started back in 1886, when we proved triumphal by three goals to their solitary one, and as far as both sets of supporters have been concerned, the old ?hate glands? have been in copious production ever since.

Whoever is right, I suppose that?s a fair indication of how keenly these games are contested by both consenting parties. One trend I am hoping will long continue, though, is the continued diminution of the destructive role the ?idiot tendency? used to play, both before and after such games. Was it me, or did I feel a certain grudging mutual respect creeping in among both factions, come the time we crossed swords for the fourth and fifth occasion, in last season?s play-offs? I sincerely hope so: all joking about our Black Country counterparts aside, it would be rare good to see headlines in the local papers for all the right reasons, for once.

Meanwhile, back at the press conference, Mogga reckons we have to respect Wolves, predicting they will come to our place ?make life difficult, and try to win the game?. He also makes the reasonable point that both sides will be scrapping something awful to get a result, with the visitors? expectations of getting something much more acute than before last season?s play-off double-header.

Mogga is also very wary of the potential scoring threat they pose, although I would counter that by saying we have by far the best goalscoring record in that division, while the Dingles can?t bang ?em in to save their miserable lives, right now. Additionally, there are some doubts over the fitness of strikers Freddie Eastwood and Andy Keogh. As for what offensive armament ? you can take that whichever way you like! - they have left is concerned, Stephen Elliott could be in, while knackered knee-victim Gary Breen most certainly won?t.

As for our lot, our leader reckons that the extra day he?s gained through the match being held on Sunday might mean his normal policy of trying to rest recent international performers being changed for this one. If that is the case, then we should have Gera. Coren, Cesar, Miller ? apparently, Mick McCarthy once briefly toyed with the idea of getting him to Dingle Town: oh dear, how sad, what a pity, he came to us instead! - and Brunt all available and ready for action, with Carl Hoefkens now fully repaired also.

One thing I hadn?t realised, though, was the fact that last Friday was the deadline for loan signings. Other clubs have taken advantage, but we haven?t, the reason given publicly being that Mogga prefers to place his faith in what we have already. Selection of the optimum side for tomorrow may prove difficult, though, given we still have Kev Phillips, James Morrison and Martin Albrechtsen out through injury, with poor Clem being a long-term job. (He does anticipate getting all four back before the transfer window opens once more, only making further additions to the squad if and when the situation warrants it.)

Obviously, we?ll still be sticking with Miller up front, so who will be partnering him, I wonder? Or will we just go with what we had versus Coventry, and stick with that wonderfully-confusing but effective 4-4-1-1 thingy that gave Coventry the willies at The Ricoh Stadium so recently?

As we have so few realistic options at the back, not much will happen there, but as I mentioned above, in midfield, with Phillips out, we might just go for packing it. The extra day?s grace following all that midweek international involvement does mean we do have options in that respect. With Tex in the hole again, I wonder?

As per usual, Mogga isn?t in the game of belittling our opponents, or damning them with faint praise: he does point out that he was present when they proved victorious over Barnsley at Molineux, rating the Wolves performance as ?convincing? even though the final score was a mere solitary goal for the Dingles. Although current form predicts the Hawthorns persuasion to be the victorious one, our manager reckons you have to throw the form book right out of the window when trying to predict a likely winner in these sort of circumstances. But that?s Mogga for you, always full of the milk of natural caution. Was his dad an insurance assessor, or an accountant, by any chance? It would certainly explain a lot. I think we should be told.

One other aspect of tomorrow?s game Mogga also touched upon, and that was the necessity for making the bulk of our players, mostly imports from Europe, understand precisely what it means to Albion supporters when the ball finishes up at the back of the Wolves net. The summer?s upheavals, after we had to find replacements for no less than six people who played in that Wembley play-off defeat, meant a wholesale change in club personnel, and with the differences in geography and culture outlined above.

Not that our supporters will be tardy in reminding them of that very same fact, of course: lung-busting, adrenalin-infused passion is generally something whose language is universal to any football supporter (and, by inference, player) worthy of the name! Let no-one on that pitch wearing blue and white stripes, native Englishman or otherwise, be under any illusions whatsoever, mind: as Queen Victoria once put it: ?The possibility of defeat does not exist?.?

My final word on tomorrow?s bun-fight? ?Miller Threat Scares Wolves?, the headline in yesterday?s Express And Dingle? Now that?s the sort of ?shock horror? reporting I really like to see!

And Finally?? One. During the course of Saturday afternoon, I happened to notice that Oldham Athletic, playing at Bournemouth, were in front, but what made me really sit up and take notice even more, was the name of the scorer of two of the three, a certain Lee Hughes.

That brace of strikes were, to my knowledge, his first ever for the League One side at senior level, but knowing how he used to react for us, after hitting the back of the net for the first time in ages ? the old hunger for goal reasserting itself once more, making him a very dangerous customer indeed for opposing defenders to deal with - it didn?t surprise me one little bit.

If Lee can continue in this vein, let?s hope that will set him well and truly on the road to final exorcism of his many demons. And, before the ?hang ?em and flog ?em brigade? start to get all barbary with me, let me first remind you of one of the primary aims for the imposition of custodial sentences on offenders: to fit them to take a useful place in society while in prison custody, and by enabling them to do so, help secure gainful employment for themselves afterwards.

Which is precisely what Lee has done. Unlike what happens to so many of the criminal fraternity after release, he isn?t totally dependent on either benefits or the proceeds of crime for an income, but doing a proper job of work in the community, and gradually earning the respect of society for having done so. He?s paid the judicial price for what happened three years ago, and hasn?t slipped back into further crime. Hopefully, he?ll never, ever see the inside of a criminal court again, except as a witness, and by virtue of his community work with Oldham, is also putting something back into society. Isn?t that how the system?s supposed to work?

Two?. Paul Franks, on Radio WM?s Friday night phone-in, telling one particular Albion-supporting caller: ?Everything goes through Jonathan Greening?.?

Cue for my warped sense of humour to slip into gear ? so swiftly cut camera to The Hawthorns, and the hirsute object of discussion sitting miserably on the toilet, trousers fallen in a wretched heap around his ankles, a truly remarkable range of noises coming from where the sun don?t shine, the sound of the pan being well and truly ?pebble-dashed?, then the embryonic stirrings of an almighty wail from The Player In Question, to the effect of: ?Sorry gaffer, but everything?s going through me today!....?

 - Glynis Wright

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