The Diary

30 January 2008: Preston Dead End

GLYNISNOTE?.. Apologies to those who expected to see me ?produce? last night. I would have normally done a pre-match piece, but a hospital visit for tests took far longer than I?d anticipated, and ended up far more invasive than I?d originally been led to believe by the specialist concerned. Let me put it this way: I never, EVER want to go through that EVER again! The top and bottom line was, once they?d finished, I exited the place feeling as though someone had tried to pull my guts out from the inside. Which, in a way, they had! When I got home, I then slept like a baby, and didn?t wake up until the wee small hours, by which time I didn?t feel like producing anyway. So now you know!

As you?ll see from the above, it hasn?t exactly been my week, has it? After yesterday?s medical malarkey, I was pinning my hopes of raising at least some good cheer upon our finest scooping the pot at Preston tonight, but it didn?t pan out that way, sadly. Due to a combination of some very determined stuff indeed from the home side, our one-dimensional attacking for most of the game ? no, chaps ? ?hump it and hope? is not the sort of football we should be playing: Preston must have thought it was their birthday and Christmas rolled into one, as ball after Albion ball looped into their box: all it needed was a defender or two to be a tadge useful when it came to heading such things out of harm?s way, and without the use of Kev Phillips to be his menacing self at the other end, we?d had it.

It was Phillips?s absence from tonight?s line-up that really puzzled us. Clearly, if other supporters were to go by, this unexpected development had come as something of a bombshell to them also. After all, Mogga had brought him into the London Road fray on half-time, when we were 2-0 up, and the job practically done. We were streets ahead of Posh by then, with or without him, so why bring him on at all? Now, we can only assume that the injury keeping him out of tonight?s bunfight happened then. But he seemed OK when he came to acknowledge our supporters, after the final whistle, seemingly devoid of mobility problems then, whatever their provenance.

So no clues to be had there, then. OK ? If in doubt, go to the Boing site, so I did. Nothing much relevant there. The Albion ?proper? website? That said Kev had a ?suspected calf injury?, so armed with that info, I did some quick research ? and this is what I dragged up. Calf strains and/or tears can happen at any time, but do occur more after the age of 30 in footballers. Additionally, recovery can be a longer process with players that age.

Acute tears happen when a player jumps, springs off to sprint, and/or changes direction. Tears (not clear yet, the precise nature of the problem: it may just be a strain) occur more often after previous injury, either to the calf, returning to a side too soon after injury, or the ankle: in the latter case, the calf muscle can become shorter and stuffer: in some injuries of this nature, tissue wastage in the calf can occur too. If it keeps happening, then the player?s actual posture and gait might be at fault. By getting the player bending his knee this way and that while he?s lying face downwards, it should be possible to work out which muscle is causing the problem. If it?s the gastrocnemius, the one at the back, then that will show when the knee?s straightened because it gets pulled. If it?s the soleus, the muscle at the front of the lower leg, then that will show similarly when the physio (or whoever) bends the knee, then forces the toes upwards.

To assist in diagnosis, the medical people will probably go for ultrasound and/or MRI scans. Once that?s done, it?s possible to properly assess the damage, then give a definitive opinion about recovery time. After that, it?s a case of standard treatment for these things ? what?s called PRICE (acronym for Protect, Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) for the first 48 hours, after which stretching exercises, and what?s called ?gentle eccentric exercise? can be commenced. Sometimes, aspirin, or related compounds, can help on the pain front, but that one?s down to the team quack. Once the player can stretch without pain, that?s the green light for more intense stuff to begin. Let?s hope it?s a minor thing, eh?

But back to tonight. To tell you the truth, we didn?t have an auspicious start to our trip, tonight. Delays to the Fart coming to our place by bus were caused by horrid little schoolchildren knocking off for the day, then, let of the leash by weary teachers, these kids were diving straight onto normal bus services, then making themselves a thorough nuisance to passengers already there. Suffice to say that by the time El Tel got to our place, he was already spewing sulphur and brimstone in quantity; what he said about those kids would, if words had the power to kill, have consigned them to a very early grave indeed.

Normally, our ancient chum gets to our place well before it?s time to go, but not this time. He rolled up at our deadline time of 4.15 pm. steaming mad at what had taken place on that bus. But at least he wasn?t late: wouldn?t have mattered for any other away game, but as we were honour-bound to pick up The Noise at our usual spot abutting on to Junction 15 of the M6 an hour later, we felt we had to stick to a stricter deadline all round.

Much to my surprise, after we?d collected our chum, it transpired that the journey up was pretty uneventful: a reduced amount of traffic actually headed for the north, for once, meant for a pretty pleasant journey ? assuming, of course, you?ve already taken on board The Noise?s amazing torrent of conversational patter, and found it wholesome listening. This time, he was banging on about the ethnic diversity of Wedgwoods employees these days; then, the conversation switched to the soon-to open Wedgwoods Museum, where bookkeeping ledgers from the 18th century will soon be on show, amongst other artifacts important to the early days of the firm.

On to other things, then, and Carly?s college course, which involves chemistry and biology, Having to do four or five subjects, is, says her dad, a bit of a worry for her, but she does now help out family finances by paying for stuff like clothes herself. The economy, or, rather the downturn in it, and its recent knock-on effects elsewhere, affects firms like Wedgwoods something rotten. From there, it was to so-called McJobs, derided by those who attended traditional universities, but now ?flavour of the month? with the current government, owing to their excellent training record, and in-house schemes.

The other thing, of course, was their willingness to take on those whom normal employers would shun as quick as anything: it was their criminal record that was the sticking point, usually. McDonalds take pride in turning such ?no-hopers? into productive employees: many have earned promotion to managerial level. Somewhere around the north of Manchester, our hero then decided to tell us about his experiences of telephone sales teams, who wanted to get our chum to bite ? and, bang to rights. On one recent encounter, The Noise reckoned he?d been accosted over the airwaves by a chap called ?Brian? who, among other things, reckoned he could save our chum pounds on his telephone bill ? and, as our hero pointed out: ?I knew straightaway his name weren?t Brian, ?cos he had an Indian accent, and how the hell could he save me money on my phone bill when he doesn?t even know how much I?m paying right now??.?

Apparently, The Noise did engage the guy in conversation ? mostly a one-way thing, it has to be said ? and I?m willing to bet anything that the guy at the other end lost the will to live within nanoseconds of the conversation being terminated! Oh, yes ? and the twin ?betes noir? of The Fart ? Health and Safety, and Law and Order ? also cropped up during another of these conversations. Boy, was I glad to get to our destination!

While all that was going on, we?d made excellent time, despite all the motorway snarl-ups, so we parked our car at the rear of a nearby pub. The original Master Plan was to go in there and have a drinkipoo or three, but looking at the place from the outside seemed to suggest that to get inside would be a really neat ?shoehorning? job. And as none of us are all that good when jammed together like that, we decided to give it a miss today.

Many familiar faces lurking around, some with connections with our former fanzine, the others acquaintances of one sort or another along the way. Long time, no see, the flaming lot of ?em. So, it?s howdidoo to Dave Baxendale and Son, former GD matchday photographer Dave Hewitt, plus mate, (sorry, don?t know his name), plus most of the Baggies Travel crew. The ones not in need of liquid refreshment, I mean. Poor sods. And, talking of which, there was Norm Bartlam, he of the absolutely awful puns. But not this time, apparently, according to his followers ? just looking at statues. In Chorley (yes, the very same Chorley that put the Dingles to the sword, back in the eighties), with the local dignitary being honoured in such a way being none other than the late, great Joe Gormley!

And it didn?t stop there: talk about a ?regimental reunion?, the moment we found our seats. Up popped Hugh McCreavy, one of the original Satanic Nurses. He, too, had been a ?refusenik?, but had been tempted back by the overall standard of our play, of late. Hugh also quoted the immortal Joni Mitchell line from ?Little Yellow Taxi?: ?You don?t know what you?ve got till it?s gone?..?

The ground? A very modern looking jobbie, these days, with new stands on three sides and a fourth in the process of being erected to our left. The building was but a skeleton, so howzabout feeding it up a bit, Preston? At least their ladies loos were light-years ahead of those at Peterborough, trust me on that one! Another thought about Preston?s new building project: suppose they got relegated? Oh, well ? at least they?d have the smartest ground in Division One. Don?t expect their bank manager would be very thrilled by seeing them take the drop, mind!

And so to business. The ref had been changed ? sacre bleu! It had been Uriah Rennie, but for reasons best known to the League, the man with the whistle was now a chap called Stroud. As in ?small town in Gloucestershire?. Judging by the way he almost lost control towards the end, he should have stayed there, too. As for our lot, with no Kev Phillips to call upon, we were going for one up front ? well, one and a bit, if that?s how you want to see Zoltan Gera. Kiely, as per usual, then Hoefkens, Alby, Cesar, Robbo; Morrison, Koren, Greening, Tex: Gera and Bednar. Subs? Barnett, Beattie, Steele, McDonald, and Brunt. Preston? Darren Carter (who Carly STILL has the hots for, and told her dad in no uncertain terms to bend his ear back if he spotted the poor sod!), with Rob Chaplow, plus floodlight-reflector bonce, on the bench. Never mind, Chappy ? we still love you!

As for the game, we did start brightly, with a splendid long-range pass from Tex finding Morrison, who took the ball to the goal-line, sent over a tempting cross indeed that positively begged to be prodded home by a Baggie boot, but nobody seemed to be able to cash in on such a marvelous opportunity to go ahead. Big mistake. Albion being Albion, we once more managed to go behind very early on, this time to yet another set-piece. The marking for that corner was absolutely atrocious. And here was me thinking that they?d publicly said they?d finally managed to get that particular weakness out of their system! Six minutes only on the clock, and there we were, chasing the game again.

And, for the life of me, I still can?t figure out why we thought that constantly humping the ball over their heads, and hoping the ball would bounce nicely for either Gera or Bednar to work their particular magic spell upon it in the box, would produce the desired result? Sides like Preston lap that sort of thing up like gravy: it?s the only way most sides at that end of the table play. What was all that about, then? And what about the seeming breakdown in communication that seemed to dog both midfield and attack on a regular basis?

One thought did occur to me, though?.. Those black strips they wore tonight. During the first half, after about the fourth or fifth pass had either gone completely astray, or gone into touch without any Albion player within miles of it, I did wonder whether that black strip of theirs was blending in with the crowd so well, our lot couldn?t pick their team-mates out properly when passing the ball. After all, the same thing did happen to Man United a few seasons back, when at Southampton?s place.

As I said, overall, the first half was a shambles: we couldn?t get going properly, and when we tried to, used what was clearly the wrong kind of tactics in anger. So cheesed off am I about tonight, I can?t really be arsed to go into detail. We were far from the lean, mean goal machine that other clubs watched with considerable envy written on their faces, earlier in the season. Then, I had another thought: was the bad omen sitting to my left? But The Fart beat me to it by a short head, and told our hero so! Kiely?s kicking? Bloody awful, again. And he?s probably wondering now why we?ve gone out and signed a Czech understudy! (THOUGHT: If this new guy plays and gets soaked, does that make him a ?rain-Czech??) Sorry.

More depressing still was the almighty row between Baggies that raged just a couple of rows behind ours. I couldn?t hear all the ins and outs of the matter, but it all kicked off when someone made a casual remark about Kev Phillips?s absence. For reasons I haven?t quite determined, the other party to the conversation then went absolutely ballistic. At one stage, the fracas threatened to spread wider still, a female raising shrill shrieks of umbrage taken, hook, line and sinker. Until the rozzers and stewards waded in to do a bit of turfing out, that is. Very likely alcohol-fuelled was my suspicion. It all simmered down, eventually, but what a complete waste of time and money: going all the way up there, spending a small fortune on a ticket, only to get your collar felt in the first half! I?ll never understand some people as long as I live.

The second portion? A bit better than its predecessor, but no matter what we tried ? again, this seemed to consist largely of trying to ?hump? the blasted thing into the box ? we still couldn?t put the ball away. Hope was resurgent with five minutes or so gone, mind, when Zoltan Gera blasted the ball from around 20 yards out, and we could only watch agape as the ball sped past their keeper?s despairing outstretched arms, and into the back of the net. The best bit was The Noise?s moaned comment to me, just before Gera picked up the ball to make the successful strike. ?This is going nowhere, this is?.. YERSSS!?

Things were looking marginally better, all of a sudden. Cue for Albion to lay siege to their goalmouth. We did get a couple of situations where players were almost one-on-one with the keeper, but so worrisome were the opposition, in neither case could we get decent shots away. 20 minutes from the end, when we were entertaining serious hopes of taking the lead, we were architects of our own misfortune, again. Yes, scuppered by yet another set piece, a free-kick this time, which Preston?s Hawley put away. Again, you have to ask what the bloody defence were doing. I really do despair, sometimes ? and this was most certainly one of those times. I guess the effort that came closest to getting tangible results was with seven to go, when Gera ? yes, again! ? let rip with yet another almighty thunderbolt, but instead of heading for the same place as its predecessor, the Preston keeper just about managed to tip that one over the bar instead.

Mind you, that was about the time the referee began to lose it a little. About six from the end, Preston?s Mawene walked, second bookable offence. What happened? He was already on a booking, and when play stopped for an injury to the guy, he was told by the ref to get treatment off the pitch. That he did, but then started walking VERY, VERY slowly!. Mawene walked about halfway to the touchline, then turned round back the way he came. That?s when the ref?s patience snapped, hence the second yellow, then red. That would never have happened had the ref stopped them tearing the arse out of such situations earlier in the game.

The second red-carding was pure evil. The guy who walked, Brown, had been guilty of sly little niggles and digs carefully perpetrated out of sight of the referee, all the game. Finally, when it was too late to matter, he almost separated Alby?s legs from his body ? so he had to go. Preston down to nine: as The Noise commented later, it was a shame they couldn?t have walked ten minutes sooner, but then again, that doesn?t make any difference whatsoever to the argument above: we should have done much better, but stuffed up completely.

Still ? it could have been a lot worse. We?re still top, but only just. Charlton managed to beat Stoke, who had been going great guns, prior to tonight. Watford v Sheffield United was a 1-1 draw: not surprising, considering how knackered United must have been, after playing on Sunday as well (I thought that wasn?t allowed: who the hell agreed to waive the rules, I wonder?) And our chums the Dingles managed to snatch a crafty last minute win over Sheffield Wednesday. Cardiff gave QPR a walloping, so that puts them back in 7th place. I wonder whether Burnley now fancy their chances, this Saturday? After seeing the complete and utter pig?s ear we made of tonight, they should.

And Finally?? Having been a bit of a Jonah for us this lovely evening, The Noise reckons all the signs are pointing towards an Albion success, come this Saturday. How come? Well, every time Jane?s gaffer invites the Lewises to dinner at his place, Albion always either win or draw! Oh ? and another bit of gossip, but this time, about The Noise?s missus. She?s always had a soft spot for ex-Man U players, which was why she supported Robson when he was in charge of Boro, then Steve Bruce when he came to Brum. Robbo got the treatment again, when he came back to us three seasons ago, so you don?t need me to tell you who she supports now Steve Bruce is lord of all he surveys at Wigan Athletic!

 - Glynis Wright

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