The Diary

01 October 2003: The Lions Tamed!

Personally, I?d much rather rely on the skills of our players to see us up, but ten games into the current term, we?re looking mighty good for lift-off. Twenty two points on the board, second in the heap ? Sheffield United won 2-1 at Wimbledon tonight ? and, by my reckoning, a points average per game of well over two. At a supporters? club function the other week, Chairman Jeremy Peace remarked that he was evaluating our progress in ten-game segments, so he must be feeling mighty pleased with life tonight. It?s a tall order, but if we can keep that up, come the end of the season, we?ll all be sitting comfortably in front of the box watching others scrap it out for the remaining play-off place, safe in the knowledge we?ve done the hard bit already. And yet, why was it I was gibbering and practically pulling my hair out from the roots the whole of the second half tonight? Millwall are a rough-house sort of side, but with a defence that looked quite brittle; ideally, we should have buried them by half-time, but Albion being Albion, we chose to take the rocky route, hence all that subsequent angst in the Brummie and the Smethwick.

Mind you, tonight?s visit represented the second time I?d travelled to The Shrine today. The reason was, of course, to pick up those blasted Rotherham tickets I?d meant to collect yesterday, but couldn?t because our away season-tickets were still stuffed in the glove compartment of the Dickmobile. No problems picking up those much?desired bits of paper as there were very few people in the ticket office, so on my way out, I dropped in on receptionist Kate for a quick chinwag. I was genuinely sorry to hear that her hubby was poorly, and wished her well, and him a speedy recovery. For every player who does the biz for the club on the pitch, there are two or three like Kate, just as essential in their own way, who quietly bimble along in the background, doing their jobs without any fuss or bother whatsoever, and I?m pleased to acknowledge the fact via this column. Oh, and as I walked through the Astle gates, once more, it was time to quietly reflect upon the sheer beauty of the design; a fitting memorial to a great, great player, and a lovely person in his own right.

Back again tonight, of course, and the first port of call was The Throstle Club, where The Noise and The Fart were waiting. Time to explain a slight change of plan for the Newcastle game to them. We had hoped to stay overnight for that one, but ?Im Indoors couldn?t get the necessary time off, so it?s a trip ?oop North? care of that luvverly man Sauce, come the 29th of the month. Yes, we could have travelled courtesy of The Dickmobile, as per the Hartlepool game, but as that turned into a real matchstick-under-the-eyes job for the driver (and for me, writing this column afterwards), unsurprisingly, ?Im Indoors didn?t feel up to experiencing another dose of the same, so we?re letting Sauce?s amply-sized brain take the strain for that one!

Out once more, and into selling-mode. Not that we had a lot to flog, mind; the bulk of our stock had already found good Black country homes, so all that remained was to dispose of the few score Dicks remaining. Not that I started off that well; a good deal of my time on arrival was taken up with nattering to various people, so selling duties had to take an unaccustomed back seat for once. First up was Jean and Michelle, they of the four moggies who aren?t very well at the moment. (The moggies, that is, not them.) Poor Michelle is dosing the whole feline contingent with antibiotics at the moment; those who have ever tried shoving medicine down the throat of a reluctant mog will fully understand why these two ladies are feeling quite exhausted at the moment! Mind you, Michelle did pass on to me a rather spiffing joke at the Dingles? expense. According to her, Wulves have a new sponsor lined up for next season. Who? Why, ?Cheerios? of course!

The next visitor was Dawn Astle. ?I had to bring young Matthew,he's really up for it? she said. ?he kept on at Wigan, ?When are we going to score, when are we going to score??.?

?Yerss,? interjected ?Im Indoors, drily, ?We were wondering the same thing ourselves!?

When I mentioned the likelihood of her mum running up an almighty telephone bill before too long, Dawn laughed like a drain, because she?d had a similar marathon call on her mobile from Laraine en-route to last Saturday?s game! Dawn also updated me on the footballing progress of more of the younger Astles; both Matthew and Taylor attend David Hunt?s Soccer school (apparently, the gentleman that runs it is ex-Notts County, Derby and Villa) every Saturday morning. Matthew played last week and scored four goals in the first half, so just to give the other lot a fighting chance, the coach made him swop sides for the second! Not to be outdone, young Taylor also scored a hat-trick last week, so things are looking quite promising for the possible emergence of a successor to The King?s crown.

Once I?d finished nattering to them a sight for sore eyes then greeted me. Norm Bartlam, our fearless match reporter, and pun-maker extraordinaire ? and he was wearing a suit, shirt and tie! I really had to blink several times to assure myself I wasn?t having hallucinations, because Norm?s matchday attire isn?t usually the sort of thing calculated to gain you admittance to smart restaurants. Blimey, will he turn into a pumpkin come midnight, I wonder? Not long after my vision of sartorial elegance, courtesy Norm, I was then visited by one of the many peripatetic plods. Apparently, they were trying to establish ownership of a car illegally parked nearby, and some bright spark had hit on the idea I was the owner! ?Er, no,? said I, ?-and if I was, it would be a hell of a shock to me, as I can?t even drive!?

Replied the copper, clearly clutching at straws, ?Well, did you see anyone leaving it there, then??

Me: ?Sorry, no, because I?ve been too busy gassing to people ever since I?ve been here!?

Not long after that constabulary conversation, our stock was completely shifted. Time to go in, then, but only after a slight panic on my part. I?d put my card in a safe place; trouble was, the place was so safe, I?d forgotten I?d put it there. Result? Last-minute panic! Not recommended to those with weak hearts.

So. What about the game, then? Well, once in the ground, we learned Dobes was getting another start up-front, and Hughsie was on the bench following his return from illness. As for the Dingle reject?s side, they?d made two changes, I think. Our start, though, could not have been bettered. Within four minutes, Jason Koumas put us ahead with a sizzler of a strike from the edge of the box, following a run where he seemed to take on half the visiting side for the sheer hell of it. The celebrations consisted not so much of cheers, but cries of ?Bloody hell!? from every corner of the ground. It really was class ? no, belay my last, more than that, quality, sheer quality. Millwall, for their part, had clearly travelled to The Shrine intent on kicking into orbit as many Baggies as possible in the shortest space of time; we weren?t exactly helped by a referee who seemed intent on giving the ? erm ? lion?s share of decisions to the visitors. Did he secretly hail from East London, or something? Jason was clearly causing Millwall more problems than they had bargained for, so, while the match official?s attention was diverted elsewhere, they solved the problem in their own special way. Result? Predictable; bye, bye Jason, on around eight minutes of play, with Berthe coming on by way of replacement.

A strange one, that. I?d fully expected Meggo to replace like with like, bringing on Sakiri to maintain some creativity and flair for us. No reflection on Big Bertha, mind. As things turned out, I thought he did a magnificent job for us at the back, but with Scouse Jase went our chance of really putting away the East Londoners in style. They might have been eighth in the heap before tonight?s game, but I really didn?t think them worthy of such an elevated position on tonight?s showing. Had Koumas not been crocked, I genuinely believe we would have steamrollered them come the final whistle, but he was, so we didn?t. Instead, we shifted Greegs to midfield, and seemed to dig in for the long haul. However, after 20 minutes or so, we struck oil again, courtesy of Scott Dobie, this time, from a header. Really and truly, after going two in front, we should have skinned them. Rob Hulse was giving them no end of problems up front, AJ was firing on all cylinders in the engine-room, and at the back, not only was Big Bertha giving it everything, so was Mr. Scorched Buttocks himself; as one point, he even showed himself to be no mean performer on the striking front; one of his efforts really gave their keeper something to think about.

Such was our superiority, we really should have been about five in front come the end of the half, but Albion being Albion, they sent our blood-pressure and adrenalin levels soaring instead. Millwall attacked, and our defence must have had a Condor moment right then, because one of their lot almost got through; it took some nifty work from Houlty to snuff out the danger for a corner. Unsurprisingly, our keeper then berated the blokes in front of him mightily, and I suspect it was because of the recriminations that were still flying around our finest were concentrating insufficiently to appreciate the danger. The result, of course, was a totally undeserved East London strike, and 2-1 the score.

Half-time, then, and a mystery solved. Both of us had been wondering as to why the Football League had told Wimbledon ? the franchise, not the genuine article ? to reduce their ticket prices by 25 per cent, but now we know. Apparently, they were flogging their cheapest home tickets for ?25, and away tickets for ?35. Bear in mind, last season, even ?rob-you-blind? outfits like Chelsea and Blues were charging us ?30 quid, ?5 less than Wimbledon. Even so, considering we?ll be playing them at the end of December, for a midweek game, and very likely in freezing conditions, will make this one a very unattractive proposition indeed. And that?s before I even begin to bang on about the morality of what the club?s owners have done. I shall be touching on this nearer the time, so don?t be surprised if I go into ?rant? mode when I do.

Back to the matter in hand, then. Come the second period, Millwall seemed to have changed tactics, as they looked far more proactive in their incursions in our half. Mind you, we didn?t help matters by electing to defend in depth instead of going for the jugular; as I said earlier, their defence looked fragile, to say the least. What a rampant Sakiri could have done to them just doesn?t bear thinking about. Luckily, we soaked up the pressure easily, and could have added more to our tally had we pushed it; Bernt Bum (I think) pulled one decent save out of their keeper. The worrying part, though, was the constant feeling Millwall were capable of evening things up before the finish. Suddenly, they were playing the passing game, not kicking everything that moved, and our failings compounded this. Shades of Crystal Palace, where we tried similar ?holding? ploys, and had them blow up in our faces at the end. When you see passes go astray and to the opposition, or elementary errors creeping in, it?s not exactly calculated to inspire confidence, is it?

Neither was the introduction of Danny Dichio for Scott Dobie about ten minutes before the end. Sure, we were at the familiar stage of ?hoofing it? by then, which should have suited DD?s style of play, but really and truly, we needed someone to put the fear of God into the East Londoners, thereby stopping them getting ideas above their station. I?m sure Hughsie would have filled the bill admirably, but it wasn?t my decision to make. Or maybe I?m just biased after seeing our lanky forward concede that free kick in such a cringe-making fashion at Hartlepool, just before the end? To be fair, he did have a shot on goal towards the end, which went just wide, so I shouldn?t moan too much. Not long after DD?s attempt to get on the scoresheet, the referee wrapped up the proceedings for the night, we tucked the three points under our arms, and everyone was happy. Ish.

Why is it, then, yet again, I came out of the ground feeling vaguely dissatisfied with tonight?s overall performance? All answers on a postcard, please, to the usual address.

And finally?.One. The Noise, to me, in the Throstle Club, before tonight?s game. ?Remember after the Hartlepool game, when you pointed out Mars in the sky for us? Do you reckon Scott Dobie was aiming for it when he missed on Saturday??

Two. Yet another observation from our garrulous co-editor! In last Sunday?s News Of The World, Clem got 7 out of 10, and was in their ?Team Of The Week?. It?s not that much of an accolade when you consider AJ was marked similarly, even though his participation in the game lasted only five minutes!

 - Glynis Wright

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