The Diary

28 November 2007: Watford And Charlton Both Blow It - Somebody Up There Must Love Us!

So ? off the top of my head, and put into the context of us doing battle with sixth-spot Plymouth Argyle in less than 24 hours time, just how good were tonight?s Championship results for the cause? Let me put it this way: imagine if you will, for a moment, the leaden skies above The Hawthorns parting for a brief moment to a blinding yellow light, which then softens to reveal a white-bearded-and-robed elderly guy standing confidently astride both edges of cumulus.

Further imagine that he has facial features not a million miles away from those of Charlton Heston ? then, while all that?s percolating through your brain, also visualise the guy allowing the index digit of his right hand to arc through 90 degrees, then slowly bring it to rest, pointing in the general direction of our spiritual home, now spotlighted in a shaft of the same brilliant light illuminating the sky. Cue, then, for deific delivery of trademark Resonant Sounding Voice, the sort guaranteed to turn even the most recalcitrant of bowel contents to foetid-smelling liquid.

?WEST BROMWICH ALBION FOOTBALL CLUB,? it solemnly intones, ?THIS IS YOUR BIG CHANCE? OH, YEAH ? AND ANOTHER THING. BEFORE I SOD OFF TO GET A NICE CUP OF TEA ? YES, MY USUAL, MILK, TWO SUGARS PLEASE, GABRIEL - THERE?S A BLOKE UP HERE CALLED ASTLE WHO?S GOT AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR YOU LOT. HE SAYS ?DON?T YOU DARE F**K IT UP!.......?

And that sums it up in a nutshell. Watching the final scores pour into the Sky studios tonight, I simply couldn?t believe how wonderfully, smoochifully well those results dropped for us. Watford 1 Burnley 2, and Charlton 0 Sheffield United 3. In one foul swoop, that takes Charlton off our back, temporarily, and also ensures the gap between us and the Vicarage Road lot stays at five points. Had I addressed a letter to Santa outlining all the above, then sent it up the chimney, I couldn?t have wished for better, really.

But, just as some of our bogeys prove vulnerable, others more distant await their own moment of glory, it would seem. Take Ipswich, for example. They triumphed again tonight, a feat that takes them to their 12th successive home win, a club record dating from 1960, assuming Sky got their facts right, of course. (So where?s Steve The Miser/Statto, just when I need him, then, eh? Counting stray 5p pieces, knowing him?.) So, they?re now fourth. Thank whatever God you do worship that they can?t win away to save their turnip-bashing lives.

Also, keep a weather eye on the long-term prospects of Sheffield United and Crystal Palace. Bryan Robson seems to have finally got things going at Bramall Lane, while, down in Sarf London, our old mate Neil Warnock is gradually building up a useful head of steam. And I don?t just mean his volatile temper, either. Oh won?t it be fun, come next Saturday?s frolics? Errrr ? NOT!

The upshot of all this is that the stakes have been raised dramatically on tomorrow night?s Plymouth fixture. Win, and we pull three back on Watford, leaving us just two behind. I?m now wondering whether they might be cracking under the strain of keeping hold of pole position for so long. Maybe we caught them on a bad day when we played them, but my overall impressions of that win were of a side that looked pretty ordinary, once we?d gone ahead. Let?s face it, Burnley aren?t exactly Brazil, are they? Or did they catch them on a bad day also? Additionally ? and the bleeding obvious ? a win would also put some very welcome clear blue water between ourselves and Charlton, whose hot breath we can all feel steaming over and around our collective Baggie necks.

There?s also much more encouraging news emerging from the treatment room of our two foremost knee-ligament ?casualties?, Kev Phillips and Ish Miller, thank goodness. But that does lead me to assume the role of instantaneous ?devil?s advocate?, by pointing out that the literal word from the club?s website is that ? and I quote ? ?they COULD return to action in two to three weeks?.? Look as hard as you might, nowhere does that press release say the magic word ?WILL?. So don?t all start breaking out the bubbly, just yet ? this is West Bromwich Albion we?re discussing, yeah?

And don?t forget that formerly-rudderless Argyle now have a new captain on the bridge, Steve Sturrock, who did so well for them the last time he was in the Home Park hot-seat. It?s no mean feat to take a club down on its uppers, and in the league?s basement, to League One promotion contenders, all in just the space of four seasons, 2000?2004 inclusive. And, what?s more important, their supporters have as much affection for him as we still do Ossie Ardiles.

They also have a quite impressive home record this term, having only been hit by enemy fire on one of their last eight. Mogga?s certainly wary, going by his pre-departure comments on the club website. Above all, he rates the unity they?ve achieved, a siege mentality, almost, fostered because of their geographical isolation, a bond of immense strength, that embraces the entire club from mainmast to bilge-pumps, supporters and directors included. Apparently, Sturrock will be watching our game from Home Park?s equivalent of a battleship?s gunnery director tower, the stands: he wants to get an ?overview? of the side he?s inherited from Ian Holloway, apparently.

Team news from Home Park is that defender Gary Sawyer is now fit, and having had a run out as a playing substitute when they consigned Sheffield United to the deep on last weekend?s voyage, has earned his place on tomorrow night?s crew list. Despite this, they still have engine-room trouble: having had a knee operation, midfielder Paul Wotton won?t be back scrubbing the decks for quite some time.

Looking at the limited options available to us up front, right now, these problems couldn?t have come at a worse time for us. Had we both Miller and Phillips at our disposal ? or even just one of the two ? then I might have written in a far more optimistic style. But, like it or lump it, we have to go with Beattie and Bednar, instead, both of whom should be getting goals, but aren?t. The keeper and central defence positions will look after themselves, mainly because it?s a case of ?get out there, Leon Barnett and Bostian Cesar!? Let?s face it, we haven?t got anyone else!

On the flanks, it should be the usual pairing of Hoefkens and Robbo. Midfield? It all depends upon whether or not Mogga is in the sort of reckless mood that serves gamblers so well when playing poker or roulette. Will he go with one only up front, and someone lurking in the ?hole? behind, doing ?ammunition supply? duties, or cast all caution to the winds and go with two? If it?s the former, then it?s five consisting of Gera, Koren, Greening, Brunt and Tex. If the latter, then one of them will start in the ?hole?. Still, there?s always the newly-returned John Hartson to call upon in our hour of striking need, isn?t there? Oh, damn, maybe not ? he?s got a ?chest infection?.

Despite our twin 15-inch gunnery turrets being very much out of action right now, can we still hole them below the waterline? Well, at least our midfield hasn?t been slow in coming up with strikes of their own. We do know the aforementioned Gera, Greening, Tex ? even Robbo, with his one! ? can prove to be very effective ?torpedoes?, given the breaks. And Hoefkens is no mug, either, both here and when at bloody Stoke. Barnett? It surprised me to find he?d already netted two at senior level this season. Ah, what fleeting memories we have, sometimes!

The problem is, though, that wanting to impress a new gaffer, Argyle will undoubtedly be ringing up the engine-room telegraph to ?Full Speed Ahead?. That means we?ll have to be on the qui vive for stray Argyle Exocets, which further means a top-form Dean Kiely watching the radar screens, and some classy interceptions from the chaps at the back. But I still can?t quite shake off my residual worry that they?ll find our range, eventually, then proceed to blow us out of the water. That?s what a change of captain does to any ship?s company ? galvanises them to greater efforts. Lets hope, then, that my gut feeling is completely wide of the mark, and we?ll be looking at another three-pointer deservedly gained by the time I come to compile the next entry in my ?ship?s log?.

And, while I have been fretting mightily about our sundry striker shortages, et cetera, what else has been happening? Oh, yeah ? this morning, I trotted off to see my GP. Not the usual Villa-supporting one, sadly, but a female, this time, one I?ve seen before. Mostly about my worsening asthma, for which I stupidly thought she?d just give me a couple of inhalers, then tell me to go away ? but nope. Not only does she want me to have a chest X-ray, but she?s going to book me in to see a specialist also. Ooer. Mind you, as long as it isn?t the one that John Hartson sees, I don?t really care.

Once I?d returned, later that day, I had to make another journey, but to the Hawthorns, this time. I was meeting up with The Fart there, the idea being to sort out Leicester City tickets for ourselves and ?Im Indoors. Even with concessions, the price was a bit-eye-watering: charging that sort of money, City should be able to buy the entire town, never mind new players in the next ?window?!

Having ?done the biz? we then shifted ourselves into the club shop, to eyeball the Christmas stock. El Tel was particularly charmed by an Albion-crested cat?s feeding bowl: looks as though poor little Heidi will very soon have yet another little ?reminder? of precisely what it is that precipitates her dad?s astonishing changes of mood, every single time she goes to nibble her nosh, poor puss. I can only hope the RSPCA doesn?t find out.

And, bless their supercharged 4x4s, we also saw the departure of the first-team for Plymouth. Well, the team coach did: when I saw it pull off from the Players Entrance door, there was a distinct lack of bodies in it. I can only assume that the coach was there to load up the kit boxes etc, the actual bodies joining at our training ground, near Great Barr. I was pretty surprised that they seemed to regard security for their cars better there than at The Hawthorns ? there?s locked gates, a well-lit secure compound, and 24-hour patrol on tap in the East Stand car park ? but who am I to argue? Nor will I argue that we?re giving this one a miss: I could have gone, but what with it being a late return from Devon, and ?Im Indoors still in the throes of being taught a completely new job, it wouldn?t have been at all fair for me to keep him from his pit for that length of time. So I didn?t. I guess I?ll have to be like my Voice Of Albion Doom brother-in-law, and surgically attach myself to both settee and radio! (Don?t worry, I?ve already told my three cats, so rest assured no felines whatsoever will be harmed in the making of tomorrow night?s blog. OK?)

AND FINALLY?. Now here?s some food for thought. Albion are currently advertising for a ?community coach?. SuperBob, at a recent Kiddy Branch meeting, said he?d very much like to coach kids, and was going for qualifications which would enable him to do that very same thing. Typical of Bob, he now wants to ?put something back?.

And, what?s more, despite his many protestations of being just a ?thick footballer?, he?s quite clearly nothing of the sort. You only have to listen to him speak to realise that. Yet another ?failure? of the education system of 20 or so years ago, perhaps? Someone lacking formal qualifications, with limited ability to express themselves on paper, but their considerable verbal prowess proving the precise opposite: that they actually possess far more in the way of intelligence, not to mention sound common sense, than a good many supposedly ?academic? types. A graduate of what some people still (rightly) call ?The School Of Hard Knocks?, or ?The University Of Life?.

Supes would be brilliant with youngsters, I reckon. His passion and love for the game shines like a blazing beacon. It?s so infectious, it?s one ?illness? no parent in the country could justifiably moan about Junior contracting. His own elevation to near-sainthood in the eyes of Albion supporters young and old would count for a lot, as far as credibility goes. Because he?s been there, done it, worn the T-shirt, for the Baggies, he?d command their instant respect. And, of course, he has kids of his own. One of those moments when I?d dearly love to see precisely who?s applied for the job, I guess!

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index