The Diary

17 January 2008: Simon Wright, Currently Flying At 35,000 Feet! The True Magic of The Cup!

Well, who would have thought it, eh? No less than TWO FA Cup-related celebrations within the Wright household, and both occurring with but 24 hours separating the two. Any minute now, His Nibs will return from Edgar Street, boinging like a Tigger on strong amphetamines, and in a mood so euphoric in nature, any psychiatrist worth their salt within driving distance would want to visit our humble abode, if only to have a bloody good giggle.

But ? mock ye not. Our cider-slurping Second Division chums overcame First Division Tranmere, thanks to a solitary goal in the last 20 minutes of the game. And there IS an Albion connection: the scorer was a West Brom fan called Simon. Simon Johnson, that is, not my other half. Mind you, if you thought the idea of rubbing Birkenhead noses well and truly in it risible, then Lord alone knows what you?ll make of the other replay results tonight. Well done, humble Havant and Waterlooville, for putting high-flying Swansea to the sword 4-2, tonight.

No doubt the Cardiff persuasion will think it an absolute hoot. Not for long, though, if they?ve got any sense (which I severely doubt, but we?ll let that one go for now): their very next FA Cup opponents will be ? yep, you?ve guessed it ? Hereford United, at Edgar Street. Which will get the local rozzers there wailing and beating their collective breasts, if nothing else: show me any Cardiff away fixture, of whatever provenance, and I?ll show you a police force in imminent danger of meltdown. It?s got to be a Sunday switch, no question about it, and, if the police had their way, with a crack-of-dawn kick-off time chucked in for good measure.

But that wasn?t the result that had me rolling on the floor with truly uncontrollable laughter, and for reasons which will become as obvious as a fully-scarved-and-hatted Dingle in the Brummie, the precise moment you see the name of the side on the receiving end of what was, to all intents and purposes, a complete and utter stonking. Bloody Stoke City, who lost 4-1 at Newcastle United tonight, I salute you! But that wasn?t all: our Geordie chums had a lad sent off very early in the game, so were down to ten men for most of the tie. And still they won handsomely.

Sadly, it wasn?t to be a complete and utter wipe-out: those party-poopin? Potters somehow managed to get one back in the last minute of normal time, but even so, if I were a Stoke supporter (as unlikely a scenario as I can ever imagine for myself: should I ever show early tendencies, you will promise to shoot me, won?t you?), right now, I?d be taking a long hard look at their chances of going up this term, and the probable degree of embarrassment factor involved, should they actually achieve escape velocity..

If that?s what a mid-to-lower end of table Premiership outfit can do to a bunch of clay-slinging, thuggish Championship upstarts when reduced to ten, I really dread to think what degree of damage a full quota could have inflicted upon the sods. That?s what you get when you play patsy to a side with supporters completely transformed, morale-wise, by the mouth-watering prospect of the imminent return of that managerial Messiah, Kevin Keegan. (Or is he ?just a naughty boy?, as per Monty Python?s ?Life Of Brian??) Mind you, perhaps the concept of Stoke going up might not be such a bad idea after all, if only to give me, Derby County-style, gorgeously-delicious lashings of savage amusement every single time I pick up my Sunday newspapers!

Right, then. That?s the fun bit over, so back to all things Albion. Surprise, surprise ? no reserve game versus Leicester at Kiddy tonight, a waterlogged pitch being the cause of the postponement, but given our heavy involvement in various games, of late, and the need to rest people properly, I don?t suppose our coaching staff will be cussing too much over this one, right now.

What I hadn?t appreciated more fully last night ? and naughty me for not having done so ? was the fact that our own Fourth Round opponents, Peterborough United, managed to overcome replay opponents Accrington Stanley ? the Second Division?s equally horrid answer to Stoke City, if you really want to know - by the massive margin of SIX clear goals, the final score being a massive 8-2 in favour of Barry Fry?s bunch. (Quick thought, here: given Laraine Astle?s great friendship with ?Bazza? ? both he and the King played non-league football together at Dunstable back in the early-to-mid seventies, so both families are as thick as thieves, even now ? I can quite easily visualize her becoming a just a wee bit schizophrenic nearer the date of the tie. Ooooh, just where will her loyalties, lie, come that dread day, I wonder?)

In the backwash of our own FA Cup win the other night ? you saw history made, kiddiwinkles, as that was our first ever successful penalty shoot-out on home soil - it comes as no surprise to me at all to see that our leader isn?t best pleased by the fact we somehow managed to put the issue in doubt by not so much conceding a two-goal lead, as waving a white flag at Charlton and saying ?Go on, then - fill yer boots, lads?.? More to the point, I really do feel that someone really ought to have a few well-chosen words with our current first-string custodian, whose almighty gaffe was instrumental in us conceding the Addicks first. But it wasn?t just the one cock-up that had every single Baggie in the place wanting to do him gross personal violence: in the minutes immediately prior to the disaster, serial behaviour of a similarly suicidal nature meant he ended up skating upon very thin custodial ice indeed.

Why he couldn?t just belt the ball away to buggery, instead of well and truly dropping his defensive colleagues in it courtesy a string of truly appalling passes to them, I know not why. But that?s what he did, so it came as no great surprise to see him go on to make a complete balls-up of what should have been a bog-standard stop. Perhaps it?s a bit of serious competition for the Number One jersey that might wake up his ideas, yeah?

As we are somewhat lacking in that department, right now ? the sole position I consider needs any degree of strengthening ? perhaps now might be the right time to sort it out. The word on the streets is that the Michael Danek thing is still a goer: the stumbling block appears to be Czech club Viktoria Pizen, who want Albion to take the lad on a permanent deal. Reading between the lines, I get strong vibes that Jeremy Peace isn?t so keen. Hopefully, terms mutually agreeable to both sides will be reached before too long. Either that, or we move on, look for another likely candidate for that vitally-important number one jersey. Tempus fugit, and all that jazz.

It?s one thing to almost chuck an FA Cup tie away through goalkeeping incompetence, it?s quite another to have exactly the same thing happen during a vital promotion encounter. After all, the script only mentions top six Premiership outfits getting the right to a Wembley final appearance, come the fag-end of the current season: to think otherwise would be delusions of grandeur writ preposterously large. And in any case, we still have far bigger promotion fishes to fry. Today Cardiff, tomorrow ze world? Er ? sort of. Putting them to the sword this Saturday has to be our main priority, certainly. But more about that nearer the time.

There just had to be some unexpected bad news in the wake of our Cup win, mind. Zoltan Gera, booked during last night?s replay, is now on five yellows, and will be missing our close encounter of the Albion kind with Peterborough. Or is it really such a disastrous thing to happen? At least the lad will be getting that suspension of his out of the way when we?re due to play in a Cup game. To be deprived of his services in the League would have been a real bummer, make no mistake.

Let?s not be unduly negative about last night?s performance, mind. Despite making the outcome of the tie a close run thing, there was still much to admire about our performance as a whole. Take Roman Bednar, who not only scored during the course of the 90 minutes proper, he was also instrumental in sealing the game for us via that vitally-important penalty he put away during the shoot-out.

For a lad who was once pretty much regarded as a second-fiddle option to our established strikers, he isn?t half doing well, right now. The goals just keep coming, don?t they? And all that from a lad who, until comparatively recently, was cloaked in the relative obscurity of the Scottish League programme. Which just goes to show that there are still bargain-basement additions to squads to be found, provided you?re prepared to do some seriously hard yakka looking for such desirable people.

And while I?m in the business of handing out plaudits, it?s Chris Brunt that also stood out for me. His ability to land crosses on target, and with pinpoint accuracy, too, is a real asset to our side. As for Jonathan Greening, I?m now firmly convinced that the guy?s phenomenal staying power is not governed by the laws of elementary physiology, but those of basic physics. Any day now I expect to see headlines to the effect that the lad can only emerge from the players? tunnel after the insertion of a quartet of Duracell batteries, right in the very place you rarely see the sun shine. If his sex life?s also governed by the same critera, all I can feel for his good lady wife is complete and utter sympathy! (Or profound jealousy: yer pays yer money, and all that jazz!)

On to other matters, now, as promised. It was while I was well and truly in the grip of my grotty chest condition that I finally managed to turn what ought to have been a complete and utter disaster to my advantage. The problem? Having previously accumulated a considerable backlog of books awaiting my attention, and not until recently having sufficient spare time to do each and every one justice. What with my new Open University course starting at the beginning of February, January was the only time I had to catch up, so the illness turned out to be a blessing in disguise, really.

The very first on my ?to do? list was Adrian Chiles?s recently published book about our favourite football club, and its supporters entitled: ?We Don?t Know What We?re Doing.? My copy had come with copious recommendations from my other half, mostly to the effect of: ?If you only get chance to read just the one book, it?s got to be Ade?s??? Praise indeed, not least because my other half has pretty exacting standards when it comes to the addition of football-related titles to his ever-growing collection. Coming with a recommendation like that, I could hardly refuse, could I?

I?ll tell you what, though. I?m normally a bit of a sceptic when it comes to the appraisal of written works about football supporters, most of which appear to consist of purple prose with a strong leaning towards gratuitous descriptions of bloody violence, as per: ??.Me and Deggsy got a bell from the Millwall lads to meet them by the station after the final whistle, but when we got there, so had the Old Bill, so out came the Stanley knives for a bit of a ruck?.? Aw, you know the sort of thing I mean. The trouble is, it?s a format that doesn?t half shift stuff off shelves, hence my considerable antipathy towards the genre.

But not so with Adrian?s book. In between all those tiresome sneezing and coughing attacks, I simply couldn?t put it down. ?Im Indoors was dead right: it truly is one of the best-written books about football supporters I?ve ever laid hands on. And I?m not just saying that because the subject matter concerns our own football club, either. The entire thing is a carefully-crafted celebration of just what it is that makes followers of one particular football club tick. Were it about Southend supporters, say, and not our own, I would have been just as enthusiastic about Ade?s literary excursion. Pure class, from beginning to end, and it?s the fact that most of the characters within are people I?ve known for years that help make it truly special for me.

Ever had the feeling that despite having known some people for zillions of years, you?ve barely even begun to scratch the surface of their characters? Yes, it is possible to be mates with people, but not know them at all, really. Take eighty-odd year old Albion regular, Vic Stirrup, for example. He?s a familiar sight to those traveling away to games, being smallish, with gnome-like features, and walking with the aid of two sticks.

There?s lots I knew about Vic already, but what I didn?t know was that in the period covered by Ade?s book, Vic was going practically blind, the problem being caused by an age-related eye condition. And yet there he was, come sun, rain and shine, home or away, League and FA Cup? What a trouper. It was also via Ade I first discovered that Vic had served on some of the really bad Malta convoys during the war. Because of that island?s close proximity to Mussolini?s Italy, it was getting pasted on a regular basis: add to that the problem of constant Luftwaffe and U-Boat attacks upon merchant convoys dispatched to deliver urgent supplies, and their naval escorts, the ?Malta run? was something to be really feared by serving Royal Navy personnel, back then. If you?re ever in Valetta, the Maltese capital, go and see the museum they have there: the full unexpurgated story?s there for all to read. In the meantime, I?ll have to make do with humbly acknowledging the sheer courage of Vic and his generation in coming through it all reasonably unscathed, both mentally and physically. As for his matchday sidekick, Les, whom I?ve spotted on Bearwood High Street occasionally, I?d have never known of his talent for making rugs, had it not been for Ade?s book.

Moving rapidly on to more humorous matters, another real stunner was the hitherto-unknown but wonderfully colourful sex life of a lad called Nathan. Another one we?ve known for yonks ? but not even the most vivid of imaginations could ever come up with a sex-life as sizzling as the one the lad currently has; again, it?s a case of not really knowing someone, while labouring under the clear delusion that you do. In his case, it?s a distinct penchant for the ? erm ? ?older woman? i.e. ladies of my venerable generation, and sometimes, for those much older than that, even. From all accounts, those more mature members of the fairer sex have only to clap eyes on the guy, and they?re instantly smitten! Truly amazing.

Kev Candon? Another character I?d known for years. I was only talking to him just the other night, prior to our FA Cup replay, but it was only through Ade?s book I finally got to know under what circumstances he ended up losing his leg. As he?s a very private person, I?d never really felt comfortable with delving into that aspect of his background, but Ade somehow managed to charm the story from him, so fair play to the guy for managing it.

Another story that struck a distinct chord with me was that of Bernie Noel, the Baggie-loving prison officer, if only for the fact that Bernie has two other claims to fame that Ade never found out about. The first? When I was at Winson Green, Bernie used to work for me! The thing I particularly remember about the lad was an amazingly unerring ability to sleep like a baby during Sunday church services attended by inmates. Strictly speaking, I should have pulled him up about it, but he made me laugh so much when in the arms of Morpheus, when push came to shove, I just didn?t have the heart to do it.

Bernie?s other claim to fame is a little more obscure, mind. Hands up all of those who saw the John Cleese film ?Clockwise?, about a headmaster whose whole life was governed by the constant ? and accurate - movement of hands about a clock face. Those of you who do recall the film will also remember the opening sequence, set in a modern-day educational establishment, where Cleese, in his role as headmaster, uses a microphone in his office to tell off a young lad late for a lesson by mere milliseconds.

Now for the punch-line: the little lad in that film, looking for the world as though butter wouldn?t melt, is none other than Bernie himself! How come? What was once the town?s grammar school, now a fully-comprehensive Menzies High, was used for those opening location shots. Easy to see why he was chosen, rather than use a stage-schooled professional for the job: Bernie, bless his little cotton socks, has a sunny happy disposition that makes him a complete natural for such things: even as an eleven year-old, his character and wonderfully genial personality must have stood out by a country mile. And how do I know about that? Easy, two of my nieces were pupils there at the time! So, there you have it. If you really want to embarrass the lad, simply go to your local video shop, hire the film, then invite Bernie over for a few beers!

And, for what it?s worth, my nieces also reported that John Cleese was a guy whose real-life character was horribly well in keeping with that of his more famous creation, Basil Fawlty. Apparently, while attending the school for these location shots, the kids used to derive a certain amount of savage amusement from watching the manic antics of the former Monty Python star every single time his car played up ? which it did on numerous occasions, apparently. Thrashing the errant vehicle with bits of tree wasn?t the half of it, according to my nieces.

More seriously, Ade also told the tragic tale of yet another Albion supporter, Steve Hayden, who succumbed to leukaemia, despite having received a bone marrow transplant from another member of his family. He might not be present at games in the flesh, any more, but his spirit still lives on, in the form of the family?s continuing fund-raising work for cancer-related charities. Reading Steve?s story makes one very appreciative of one?s health and strength, believe you me. Yet another case of not really knowing someone: it was only through Ade?s words that I realized the true extent of the lad?s suffering. And the same can be said about Wednesbury-based cerebral palsy sufferer Steve Clare who, despite some pretty formidable handicaps, still watches the lads play on a regular basis. Due to the extent of his condition, Steve isn?t able to do a lot for himself, but one activity he really enjoys is watching the Baggies. And, whenever possible, attending Supporters Club functions.

That?s just a representative cross-section of the many characters encountered in Ade?s book. Some, like Nathan, and the amazing Sauce, whose story is also featured, we?ve known for years ? or have we? If there?s only one book written about football supporters you?ll ever buy, make darned sure that it?s this one. And I?m not just saying that because it?s Albion-related, or Ade writing it: this book genuinely gets right to the heart of what truly makes football supporters tick. We might not necessarily ?know what we?re doing?, all right, but we sure as hell have a wonderful time discovering that fact for ourselves! And the book?s still obtainable: published by Sphere, ISBN 978-1-847-44013-6, cover price 12.99. Try one of the big concerns, for starters, or Amazon. There?s not much in the way of books that passes them by.

AND FINALLY?. THE GLYNIS WRIGHT ?YOU CANNNOT BE SERIOUS?? CORNER!

Numero Uno. According to the Daily Mirror?s latest transfer gossip page, Bolton Wanderers are currently chasing the signature of the Blackburn Rovers lad who well and truly dropped the opposition in it, courtesy that late, late strike of his, after coming off the bench during the fag-end of their local derby with The Trotters, last Sunday.

?So what?? I hear you all saying. And you?d be dead right, under normal circumstances, but these are circumstances far from normal, believe you me. For starters, the player concerned, a former Baggie and a very sensitive lad indeed, cited the highly unpleasant bullying antics of a certain ginger-headed touchline demon as his prime motivation for wanting away from our place, just a few short seasons ago. Which is the main reason why I refuse to accept he?ll go to Bolton. Unless it?s with a gun held to his head for the entire duration of the journey, of course. The short-tempered, ill-mannered curmudgeon responsible for the lad splitting the blanket with us in the first place? None other than Gary Megson. Who, of course, is now Bolton?s manager!

Numero Due?. I knew it would end in tears! Scuttlebutt also has it that yet another ex-Baggie wants to spread his restless wings. This time it?s little Robert Earnshaw, who so recently moved to Premiership disaster-area Derby County from Norwich, for a fee of approximately three million squid. In what is probably an acute case of a rodent wanting to desert a sinking ship, he?s now putting forth feelers for a hoped-for return to the club that originally gave him his big chance, Cardiff City. There?s no direct quotes from anyone connected with either club, as yet, but I wouldn?t be too surprised to see it actually happen. Just like a torrential gush of grimy water, he might just find his optimum level, given half a chance.

 - Glynis Wright

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