The Diary

28 December 2007: The Baggies And Us - Is The Best Yet To Come?

With any sort of emphatic victory over an opposition previously thought potentially troublesome, there is always a downside to reckon with afterwards. Usually, it?s in the form of a key player getting injured, or suspended, or another actually believing all the newspaper hype written about him in the wake of an unusually-pleasing matchday performance, then contacting his agent ASAP to see whether a bit of judicious ?stirring? in the media might earn the promise of an improved deal - but not this time. The particular aggravation factor I refer to is not of the making of the players: more about what happened to ?Im Indoors, both that very same night, and afterwards.

Remember how I?d said that the gentleman in question had caught the same malady as myself? Well, although giving off sufficient radiant heat to warm your frozen hands by him, both before and during the game, and most cries of encouragement coming out as a horrible croaky version of what he wanted to shout (let me put it another way: had there been Hawthorns-based auditions going for a chance to play one of Macbeth?s famed three witches, he?d have surely won in a walk), it was after the final whistle, and our subsequent visit to my sister?s place, that things began to get, literally, quite sweaty.

Having to go to work the following morning, my beloved had retired early, slumbering like a good ?un as yours truly bashed the old keyboard into the wee small hours of today. In the short time it took to finish yesterday?s offering, and go downstairs to do a bit of reading before retiring myself, my beloved?s condition had worsened somewhat: by the time I eventually made it to our pit, his temperature was sufficiently elevated to make retiring to the other side of the bed a very wise option indeed.

When his alarm did ring, I half-awoke thinking he?d surely just turn over and ignore it ? but not on your nelly. Get up he did, despite the act of actually doing so taking several minutes to accomplish. Not for the first time these last few days, my immediate reaction was to say to him in tones so shocked, they must have registered strongly on our electric meter, downstairs: ?You?re never going to work/visit your mother/go to the shops with THAT, are you??

That?s what scholars of English grammar might call ?a rhetorical question?. Yes, His Nibs WAS going to work, come hell or high water, fever or no fever. All I could do was repeat my continual mantra of these last few days, viz: ?Er ? are you really SURE you want to do that?? Closely followed by what some Black Country purists might regard as the ultimate condemnation, my late mother?s stock phrase for such despairing situations, ?Yow must be cowin? yampy??

But, cowin? yampy or otherwise, His Nibs insisted, so in the end, I turned over, muttering something on the lines of, ?You come home if it gets too much ? and I still think you?re cowin? yampy for going?.?, and dozing off once more, left him to make his preparations. But, about an hour later, something jerked me awake again, yet more sounds from downstairs, highly reminiscent of my other half pottering around.

Hang on a mo, hadn?t my beloved gone to keep the wheels of government grinding relentlessly on, or something? Ooer, he must have actually seen sense, for once! A theory that turned out to be dead right some five minutes later, when a very ill (and even more sheepish) hubby lurched into our bedroom once more, making noises that strongly suggested all was not well with his body.

?What happened to you, then? I thought you?d gone to work?.?

?Er ? couldn?t even make it outside our front door!? confessed what had been, only a matter of a couple of hours before, the potential inheritor of the same strong sense of duty that motivated the legendary Captain Oates to sacrifice himself in order to give the rest of Scott?s polar expedition their best chance of survival. Not so much a case of ?I?m going out ? I may be gone some time?? as something along the lines of ?Do I feel rotten ? get me some paracetamols, quick!?.?

Poor little lamb. Not only did I get him said medicament from our emergency stock, I immediately rushed out to our friendly chemist on the corner, the Albion-supporting one, bought up half the viral-illness medicaments on display, then quickly returned to base, bearing gifts of various symptom-relieving purchases. You name it, I got it - Day Nurse, Lemsips, various medicated sweets and their like, the sort that can have the roof off your mouth as soon as look at you, a chemical cocktail of awesome potential efficacy, indeed. Yep ? he?s sure got it, and at least as badly as I did, too. Let?s hope that just like Cinderella, he will ?go to the ball?, aka Albion v Scunthorpe, this coming Saturday.

And, talking of games, when I eventually came to peruse the sports section of a couple of newspapers today, one tabloid, the other broadsheet, I was particularly taken by the post-match comments of Bristol City?s gaffer, Gary Johnson. How very noble of him to describe us as a ?Premiership team in waiting,? then, continuing, ?For a 25-minute period, we were poor, and they were very good. Just after half-time, their performance was super, and we have to applaud that??

Mind you, watching events from my own viewpoint of about 20 yards from the City dug-out, I would say that Johnson?s reactions were more about bawling himself into a state of virtual hysterics, than admiring our polished footballing skills, but at least he did say nice things about us, in the end. And what he did say about us now seems to be the consensus of the rest of our division: our coronation is but a matter of time, a case of ?when?, not ?if? we?re going to achieve the magical 85-ish points to see us promoted.

This is unfamiliar territory indeed to we Old Farts, be they of merely trainee status, like myself, or the full-blown Terry Wills version. Not to mention a trifle disconcerting: over the years, I?ve both heard and read our favourite football team described in glowing terms, but never as dead certs to be leaders of the promotion pack, come the end of term. Oh dear ? I can feel a certain ?Semper Te Fallant? feeling coming on!

Still, you have to give credit where it?s due. For my money, the performances of both Roman Bednar, and Zoltan Gera greatly excited both heart and spirit during the course of that Bristol City game. Bearing that in mind, the certain gratification of constantly being a big fish in a little pond, why the hell would Gera want to bugger off to some struggling Premiership outfit in January, only to very likely end up going through the same miserable process of relegation from the Prem to the Championship, come next May? And seeing us pass in the opposite direction, as seems increasingly likely, with the passage of the current season?

Makes about as much sense as one of George Bush?s keynote speeches, that does. Ditto with Paul Robinson, another Baggie wanting away last summer: he couldn?t pass a medical then, so the situation?s not going to be materially different this January. You have to look at what might happen logically: what any of our players might lose in the quest for Premiership fame and glory ? not to mention a massively-increased wage-packet.

Look at the ones that DID get away last summer. Hardly setting the Premier League alight with their silky skills, right now, are they? Joe Kamara isn?t putting in performances anywhere near the ones he was for us, at his best. And the same goes for Jason Koumas. Curtis Davies I discussed yesterday. As for Paul McShane, I?m fast getting the impression he?s becoming a bit of a liability for Sunderland. A shame, that, as I?d really rated his defensive abilities. What he really needs is someone to tone down that rotten red-mist temper of his, but I don?t see Roy Keane being the right sort of gaffer to achieve that, somehow.

Even before they all went, my thoughts went something along the lines of: ?Well, if we can get in people just as good, if not better, than the ones that have gone, it might well turn out to be a case of ?a dark cloud with a silver lining? for us?. And that?s the way it?s gone and panned out for us. Up front, we certainly have better than Joe Kamara, ditto midfield, and Koumas. And what we currently have at the back isn?t, in any way, an inferior product to our erstwhile Witton Lane defector.

What, for me, has been the real acid test of a side that?s destined for ultimate glory, though, is the startling fact that whenever we?ve had injuries, suspensions, or both, we?ve quickly brought in other squad members, who then went on to respond magnificently to the challenge. Roman Bednar is one: when two of our best strikers were simultaneously rendered hors de combat, who would have thought he?d not only slot into the side with the minimum of difficulty, but also contribute significantly to our goal tally, along the way?

Even young Hodgkiss has shown that he?s more than capable of defensive performances greatly surpassing what?s normally expected of players of such tender age. Well done to our gaffer for spotting such raw potential there in the first place: such a certain managerial faith in the ability of youth to triumph has not always been the case with our club. It?s the way sides like Man United have operated for years: no matter who?s suspended or sidelined through injury, there?s always a constant supply of wannabees on tap, either warming their bums on the bench, or simply waiting in the wings for their inaugural moment of glory.

Strength in depth, in other words. That, plus CONSISTENCY ? and for the life of me, in a supporting career that?s spanned the half-century, almost, I can?t remember a single Albion side that?s enjoyed such an enviable ability to stay that way come hell or high water, enforced squad changes, or otherwise. Come on, Mister Fart, how does the present lot compare with what you?ve seen over the centuries? I may be dead wrong on this, but do I finally detect a certain feeling that this season, for the first time ever in my own experience, we?re finally going to put to flight the condition that has always been our favourite football club?s worst enemy, when in pursuit of honours of any description?

Look up the story of any outstanding Albion side, down the years, and you?ll see precisely what I mean: having the undoubted ability to win competitions in a walk, when at full strength (that 1968 Cup-winning side of Alan Ashman?s, for example), but unable to cut it once ravaged by the inevitable crop of injuries, etc. Something in my water is telling me that barring complete disaster, this is going to be a special year indeed for us ? but whatever you do, DON?T SING IT! It?s sodding fatal!

What we have going for us is what you might term a ?Baggie Gestalt?. In other words, something that?s considerably greater, taken as a whole, than the sum of all its individual parts. Going back to Zoltan Gera for a moment, to watch him in action is a purist?s delight. Despite looking as though a good gust of wind would blow him over, as quick as look at him, he turns out to be far more robust than you?d give him credit for.

The way he can let the ball do the talking for him, and by doing so, leave defenders innumerable scything thin air with tree-trunk legs in his wake, is a sheer delight to watch. The incident that sparked off the Bednar ?should the ref have shown red to Fontaine or not?? came about courtesy of a Gera through-ball so cultured, it would have earned an instantaneous honours degree from any academic footie fan watching. And how is it that someone of such elfin proportions can set the ball in headed goalwards motion, with almost Astle-like ability? That, plus those lovely gymnastic goal celebrations, indicates fitness levels of awesome magnitude.

In Kevin Phillips, we have a model professional. Sunderland?s loss was certainly our gain, and I?m willing to bet that young Miller is benefiting greatly from playing alongside the acknowledged virtuoso. His Boxing Day performance was superlative, a master-class in the striker?s noble art, if ever I saw one. Not only was his vast experience finding endless chinks in the Bristolian armour, by virtue of sheer nuisance value alone, he was drawing defenders, exposing weaknesses elsewhere, ones potentially exploitable by others with goals in their water.

And what about Morrison, Greening, Robinson, Hoefkens, and Koren? They all have that hallmark of a great side, an instinctive, almost psychic, ability to know the precise whereabouts of playing colleagues, at any given time. Looking at the Bristol City game again, how many times did we see some or all of the above combine, in almost unstoppable synchrony, to produce the delightful fare we currently enjoy?

That strike of Robert Koren?s, coming as it did from some 25 or so yards out, was easily on a par with anything the celebrated Bomber Brown could have achieved. Pele, too, was a Yuletide revelation, challenging well for everything, not to mention turning creator/provider for subsequent Baggies assaults upon the Robins? nest.

I wasn?t too sure last night, but I?ve since had it confirmed that Kev Phillips is now the indisputable division?s top scorer. That, despite being absent through injury for a significant proportion of the current campaign. What he?d have done to other Championship defences, had he not been injured, doesn?t bear thinking about. Even more tellingly, Albion are now the most prolific scorers in all four top English divisions, Premier League inclusive.

For many opposing sides, the prospect of a trip to our place ? or that of us going to theirs, just as likely ? must be an occasion warranting the mass dusting-down of brown corduroy trousers, with accompanying bike-clips supplied, should that also be deemed necessary. We?re rapidly acquiring a reputation of dread proportions, and, even more gratifyingly, for all the right reasons. If I were a Scunny supporter, I?d be having nightmares, ones AFTER Christmas, not those of Tim Burton animated film fame, already.

Looking at all the above, and what that might mean for us, come the New Year, my thoughts are currently these. When the transfer window gets flung open to admit that first invigorating gust of January air, what should we be doing to further strengthen the ship, if anything? As I see it ? although others might have widely differing views, of course ? is, barring the acquisition of some classy goalkeeping cover for Deano, should he get clobbered again - absolutely diddly-squat!

As I see it, that?s the only position where we have a clear weakness, the sole Achilles heel in our playing staff. But I?m dead sure that Mogga has already set the wheels in motion, scouts covering games likely, and unlikely, in an endeavour to find us a keeper that?s of sufficient ability to provide half-decent cover for our regular man, but not mind too much if he?s left kicking his heels on the bench for much of the time. Come to think about it, finding one with the clear potential to eventually succeed Deano, might not be such a bad shout, either.

In every report of this nature, there has to be the inevitable gripe, albeit one of a minor nature only, in our case. As I see it, sides like Stoke can plot our downfall with ease, by the simple expedient of kicking us up in the air, every single time we gain possession of the ball. The use of delaying tactics, some of them highly-questionable, also causes the red mist to descend, curtain-like, upon the sensibilities of players normally exhibiting behaviour of a much more mature kind, given a less-fraught type of game.

That still represents a real worry to me, and it?s one that?s not going to go away. If anything, the chances of games of this type descending into complete and utter farce, are going to materially increase, with the passage of the months, towards the time when relegation and promotion issues innumerable will finally be resolved. As the old Army saying used to go, ?Bulls**t baffles brains?.? Were match officials all of a united bent, universally resolved in the sheer strength of their determination to put a stop to such dubious tactics, then I might not appear so apprehensive.

The trouble is, though, they ain?t! The Stoke games, both home and away, were a classic example of what I?m banging on about. Admittedly, the final score at the Britannia was, to some degree, of our own making ? but not all of it. Had there been a stronger official wielding the whistle on both occasions, then the Potteries side might not have enjoyed such clear licence to spoil what little creativity there was coming from our lot.

And I did get the strong impression, that day, that some of our people, intimidated to a certain extent by what had gone on before, were, henceforth, a little reluctant to show sufficient levels of commitment to the Potty-shattering cause, lest they end up flattened. Understandable, when you already have amassed sufficient reason to suspect that turning on the classy stuff might ? literally ? cost you an arm and a leg! As I said after the Stoke affair, if ever there was a time for us to want a player of a sufficiently robust nature (or should that read ?homicidal instincts??), to dish out in similar measure what the likes of Stoke do to us, then the forthcoming New Year might just be the right time to get one!

But that?s still to come: right now, we have Scunny to think about, then directly following that, our new Year?s Day jaunt to Ipswich, and their magnificent home record: get something out of those two, and it might just be a propitious time to get the champers on ice, in readiness for next May!

And Finally?.. Now is also a propitious time to remark upon the increasingly urgent need for us to have a replacement PC up and running. The reason is that during the preparation of this particular instalment, the sodding thing we currently use has crashed on me no less than twice. (The disastrous ?Friday Afternoon? machine we kept trying to coax into some degree of consistency ? sounds a bit like our football team, that! ? we consigned to the dustbin of literary history several months ago, leaving us striving manfully, or, in my case ?womanfully?, to manage with just the one.). Just like most things pushed beyond their limits, it?s knackered, and is now badly in need of a rest.

And that, my friends, is the precise reason why we invested in a replacement from eBay, around a couple of months ago. Having accepted our order with commendable alacrity, the firm concerned then advised ?Im Indoors that they would be delivering by courier that following week, so a lengthy spell at my daytime post was indicated. So, being the good little wifey that I am, the following week, as specified, I waited ? and waited, and waited, for three days on the bounce, and?. Well, you get my drift. No PC, not a single sodding sign of the thing, not even in the form of a ?Sorry, you were out when we tried to deliver?? postcard specifying an alternative collection point for the wretched thing.

Annoying, that, but not unduly so, given the close proximity of the pre-Christmas rush, so my other half investigated. It turned out that the firm were claiming that the couriers had stuffed up, and were currently trying to track the whereabouts of the missing goods themselves. (Yet another valid reason why it didn?t surprise me too much to hear that a government department had also contrived to lose stuff sent by courier!)We did get further delivery dates ? but guess what? Yep, still no PC, and I was rapidly running out of days to stay in, not to mention common or garden patience!

Come the week before Christmas, and still no joy, the managing director himself contacted my other half to apologise for what had happened, say he?d be delivering the goods in person, would have to come down from Liverpool to do it, and would end up doing it in his own spare time, too. Impressive, I suppose, so I waited again ? and, guess what? Yep, still no PC!

What with our current model now crashing more times than the Dingles lose games, I was all for getting in touch with Trading Standards, and giving the firm a bit of the old consumer ?what for?. My other half, showing commendable patience, decided to stay his hand, give them one final chance, specifying, this time, his mum?s address and not ours. And guess what? Annus mirabile, when we went there for our festive munch-up, the other day, there it was, sitting proudly in his mum?s dining-room, pristine in packing-case! Yippee! Champagne in the Wright household, that festive night.

Wow! Now, the only thing that remains is for my beloved to recover sufficiently from illness to set the thing up, then load all the stuff needed to churn out pieces such as these. Don?t ask me how these things are achieved: my total knowledge of IT can be written on the back of a postage stamp! Once that?s done, then we?ll both be ?cooking on gas?.

And it?s achieved some degree of additional importance, given that my other half might now have another book deal in prospect. Can?t say too much right at the moment, but should it come off, the very subject matter ? an Albion-related one, but an avenue nobody else has explored, to date, to the best of our combined knowledge and belief - will make it a Baggies winner, of that I?m sure.

 - Glynis Wright

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