The Diary

01 March 2008: Can 'Wounded Beast" Baggies Draw Blood Versus Mariners?

Oooh, it?s the 29th of February, and what?s commonly known as a ?Leap Day?, bless its cotton socks. For the benefit of all those who are into odd facts, the entire concept arose in the first place because the Earth?s orbit, popularly believed to take exactly 365 days to complete ? erm ? doesn?t! It takes slightly less time to do the trip, actually, which is why we end up with an extra day every four years. Just playing ?catch-up?.

The Romans (when not watching gladiatorial blood and gore at the Coliseum: see below!) were the first to realise this: their ?leap year? took place every three years, rather than the present-day four. But this still wasn?t enough to sort the matter out properly. The actual length of the year, 365.242 days, as opposed to the adjusted figure, 365.25, might not seem much, but just like the mileage on a car, it quickly clocks up. All the seasons end up going out of step, eventually.

The next ?adjustment? decreed by Pope Gregory in 1582 (hence the term ?Gregorian Calendar?) also brought in the puzzling rule that century years, e.g., 2000 etc. should only be designated leap years if they were divisible by four. The turn of the current century qualified, but 1900 didn?t, because you can?t get it to divide by four exactly. Result? This makes the current year some 365.2425 days, on average, compared to the actual length previously mentioned, 365.242 days. Which, in its turn, means the problem won?t arise again for thousands of years, so don?t bother adjusting your watches and clocks just yet!

But the change did throw up a curious anomaly in this country, which was to become non-Catholic - blame Henry the Eighth and his six bloody wives for that one - not long after Pope Gregory put the aforementioned reforms into effect. In Catholic countries, their year began on January the 1st. ? but not ours. We were still on the old Roman system. Daily Mail readers would have loved our persistence in resisting new-fangled ideas from Europe, but with the expansion of trade and industry to encompass ?foreign parts?, we had little option but to bite the bullet, and harmonise our calendar with theirs.

Britain and her colonies made the change in 1752, when 2 September was followed by 14 September and New Year's Day changed from 25 March 25 to 1 January. Sounds so simple, now, but it didn?t half cause some grief back then, especially among the more ignorant of our citizens, who firmly believed they were going to lose 13 days from their physical age, i.e. kick the bucket sooner. The change saw demonstrations and rioting take place in numerous towns and cities, and it was quite some time before all the heat was finally taken out of the matter.

Oh ? and for what it?s worth, the last lot of all to change were the Russians, who only went over to the modern calendar when the Communists took power, back in 1917. And, as around 95% of their population came from peasant, agricultural, backgrounds at that time, their reaction was much the same as ours had been back in the mid-eighteenth century. So, there you have it, the historical and scientific lowdown on leap years in a nutshell - never let it be said my pieces aren?t educational!

How nice it was to get in from a visit to my stepmother?s, to discover that BBC2 had a semi-documentary version of ?Spartacus? up for grabs, tonight. Given that ?Im Indoors is well into that sort of thing, blood and guts in quantity, and all, I left him to it. The Roman gentleman in question was, in fact, the leader of a slaves? revolt, made famous by Kirk Douglas in the Hollywood film of the same name, in which there is a very well-known climax. When the Romans eventually track the insurgents down, they ask ?Which of you is Spartacus?? to which the much-quoted reply is, from each one in turn: ?I am Spartacus?? ?No - I am Spartacus?, ?No - I am Spartacus?..? And so ad infinitum, if you want it that way, I suppose.

But the best bit for me was the initial ?gladiator? scene, in which the hero of our story was set to fight against a ?no hoper?. You know what? Those Coliseum scenes didn?t half remind me of the Britannia Stadium, Stoke, right down to the crowd, all baying for blood, of which there was plenty to be had, given the somewhat violent nature of the proceedings held there. Even the gladiators? ?manager? was a Tony Pulis look-and-soundalike, right down to the ?team talk? which sounded horribly familiar, even though around 2,000 years separated the two men. And as the gladiators ran out onto the ?pitch? you could almost hear their PA man screaming, at the top of his whiney Potteries voice: ?LADEEEEEES AND-A-GENTLEMENNNNN! LET?S GIVE A REALLY BIG HAND TO STOKE CITTEEEEE???

?Tis true that I?ve yet to see their home crowd, toga-clad, engaging in a massed downwards gesture with the old thumbs every single time an opposing player goes down injured, but given the somewhat sanguinary nature of their support, not to mention their favourites? somewhat brutal playing style (do the Blood Transfusion Service sponsor any of their home games, I wonder? If not, they sure are missing a trick!), nothing at all about the Potties would surprise me.

And, for all their current wild fantasies about hitting the big-time, just talk to any Stoke supporter with half a brain still in place ? Smudge Smith, knowledgeable but well-pragmatic editor of the ?Oatcake? fanzine is a good place to start - and what you?ll get by way of return is serious concern about the whole enterprise ending up in embarrassment just as bad, if not far worse, than that of Derby County.

But enough of the Championship?s answer to wholesale bloody violence, perpetrated in front of crowds: time to look at the problems that might beset us when ambitious Plymouth Argyle visit us tomorrow afternoon. If ever a place needed a gigantic fillip, then that Devonshire city sure has to be it, right now. (But not at our expense, guys, please??.)

Seriously, though, as things stand, it?s looking very much as though the place might well lose the naval dockyard that made it famous, the same one from which Francis Drake sailed, over 400 years ago, to grapple with the Spanish Armada, and from which naval vessels of both 20th century global conflicts departed, not forgetting the much more recent Falklands shindig, of course. Apart from the tourist industry, the Royal Navy is Plymouth?s largest employer by far. To get Premiership football coming to Home Park would mean so much to a depressed local population, given there?s no other serious contender for support within a radius of around a hundred miles, or more.

And having seen severe depression and decline completely engulf the Black Country?s manufacturing industry base, back in the Eighties, I can readily empathise with all that, but I?d much rather they did it in tandem with our own promotion push, rather than at our expense. Sorry, chaps, but I sure as hell know where my loyalties will lie, tomorrow. What happens after that is largely down to you.

This game will be of the utmost importance to both clubs, of course. They?re fifth, we?re fourth, so a win for either side would do very nicely indeed, thank you very much. I was curious to see, on their official website, manager Paul Sturrock describing us as ?A wounded animal?. Not far short of the truth, admittedly, given the disappointing nature of recent defeats, both home and away: as we all know from previous experience, ?wounded animals?, of whatever persuasion, can quite easily prove to be the most dangerous of the entire lot to have to grapple with. As the lad himself added: ?We will either kill it, or it will devour us?.?

What does worry me, though, are suggestions that Plymouth will try playing it in much the same vein as Hull City did last week, i.e. mean and nasty. If that does prove to be the case, then we?ll be completely jiggered before we kick-off, even, unless Mogga has managed to put together on the training pitch a ?Cunning Plan? to negate Sturrock?s best intentions in that respect. A lot will also depend upon the match referee, of course. Will he be of sufficient quality and experience to give us the protection we so badly needed, and didn?t get, last weekend?

Checking with the League?s list of refereeing appointments this coming weekend, I see that Uriah Rennie has drawn the short straw for tomorrow?s game. Which could be either a help or a hindrance, of course: as far as that gentleman and Albion are concerned, he?s about as capricious as the blustery wind currently blowing about the eaves of our roof. Sometimes he has a good ?un when reffing us, and sometimes, an absolute shocker. Which of the two Uriah Rennies we?re going to get tomorrow, I wouldn?t like to say, but of one thing I do know ? his appearance on our pitch won?t in any way give ?express relief? to our faithful.

And, while I?m about the task, what about Mister Nemesis himself, the lovely Mr. Miller? Doesn?t look as though he?s going to blight the existence of any League club at all, this weekend, strangely enough. But don?t get your hopes up too much, Bristol Rovers followers. He?s going to be officiating at your Division One game versus Donny Rovers, next Tuesday evening. One sure-fire way for him to completely win over the vast majority of our support, mind, would be to materially influence the outcome of that game, and in the Doncaster side?s favour, of course, thereby leaving them still well-upset come the following Sunday night. Naw, we?ve got absolutely no chance of that ? even he isn?t THAT stupid.

Hungarian Peter Valmosi is their main man, if the pasty munchers are to be believed. He?ll be facing fellow countryman Zoltan Gera, of course, but there won?t be much love lost, I shouldn?t wonder. ?Tis true the lad only scored his seventh and eighth goals of the current season last week, but given the ultra-permeable state of our defence, of late, nothing whatsoever is beyond the bounds of possibility.

As for the rest of their line-up, there?s no injury issues currently outstanding. Their defence has been greatly boosted, of late, by the loan arrival of Sunderland?s Russell Anderson, which will most probably mean Marcel Seip sacrificed to maintain a match-winning formula.

Our lot? Ooer ? Mogga?s quoted as saying that Kev Phillips is a ?slight doubt? for tomorrow?s game. He copped for a knee injury during the course of the Hull defeat, apparently, and was reputed by some to have only resumed proper training today. But, having said that, just how potent a threat has he been, of late? To my mind, he seems to have ?gone off the boil? completely. Whether that?s simply down to advancing age catching up with him, finally, or stuff I?ve been hearing that he?s not entirely happy with being offered a one-year deal, as opposed to a two-year one, I really don?t know.

Should he not make the starting line-up, then, how will Mogga play it, I wonder? Does he shove Ish Miller into the fray right from the very start ? which might be a bit of a mixed blessing, given what seems to be the lad?s recent tendency to follow the somewhat egocentric example of his immediate predecessor, who buggered off to Fulham as quick as his legs would let him, following our Wembley play-off final defeat - or does he give Luke Moore another chance to show what he can do for us? Oh, soddit, Mogga?Hang the expense: go and buy the ex-Seal an extra raw fish ration, if that?s what you truly reckon it will take to help!

In actual fact, our gaffer seems to be of the strong belief that Bristol City and Stoke will very likely ?catch a crab? between now and the end of the season: should that happen, of course, the Mogga master-plan is to fill the vacuum thus created, and as quick as our little legs will let us. But the devil lies in the detail. It?s of prime importance that we start to get back to winning ways, once more, and starting tomorrow, preferably.

A ?six-pointer?, a ?must-win? game? How many times have we heard those tired clich?s, each one in great danger of suffering the devaluation, albeit of a somewhat different nature, that Harold Wilson?s government suffered, back in 1967? Were football reporters paid on a 'cliche-count per article' basis, they?d all be booking luxury Caribbean cruises, right now.

But despite all the word-weariness currently on display throughout the media, one truth does remain paramount. If we can?t contrive to get the ball in the back of the net tomorrow ? or, more pertinently, find ways of successfully addressing the problem, and quick - we might just as well pack up and go home. What we?re currently dealing with is the germ of a crisis, no more: it?s therefore incumbent upon us to ensure that?s precisely the way it stays, a nebulous threat only, until well after the cessation of normal hostilities. On that showing alone, tomorrow?s proceedings should prove instructive.

And Finally?. One. When we were at my stepmother?s place, earlier this evening, the conversation somehow turned around to the swanky hotel near Stratford my sole remaining unattached niece recently selected as the venue for both her forthcoming wedding and reception afterwards, with a lot of our family ? well, the more bibulous ones, if you really want to know - electing to stay overnight, rather than risk their licences after celebrating too vigorously.

Apparently, my sister, Wendy (the quiet one, not the gobby version currently soaking up the sun in the Canaries) accompanied young Lindsey on the visit, in order to provide both moral support and technical advice. It was while the pair of them were being shown around the place that one of the staff then accidentally let it slip that a Dingles player had recently reserved sole use of the entire place, lock stock, and horse and cart, to hold a similar wedding function there last summer.

My curious elder sibling, already acutely aware that the going rate for just a bog-standard room there was an eye-watering 150 quid per night, then discovering that the top-whack suite there, tenanted, at various times in history, by such luminaries as US President Roosevelt, Margaret Thatcher and our own reigning monarch, came in at around 800 oncers per night, simply had to ask the obvious follow-up question, viz; ?Just how much did that little lot set him back, then??

??Ooh, everything included, around 27 grand, I would say?.? replied their escort, enthusiastically.

Me (interjecting into her tale somewhat precipitously): ?What for? To cover all the damages??

PS. It would, of course, be an awfully cheap shot from me to further mention that the chap taking the pair of them round actually described the demeanour of the many Dingles taking part, that day, as: ?Pretty boisterous?, so I won?t. Oh, dear, well I never, that?s exactly what I have done. And how dreadfully remiss of me to have done it, too. A poor show all round: I do promise to buck up, though.

Two? So, it?s farewell to Neil Clement, then, off to Hull City on loan, until the end of the current season. Covering the play-offs, too, should The Tigers get that far. We do have a 24-hours recall option after the expiry of 28 days, though. Apparently, their gaffer, Phil Brown, has been chasing our man for quite some time, so Clem?s capture will be something of a feather in his cap. At least the change will give our lad something he can?t get right now, at our place. No ? not vigorous sex involving copious quantities of banana ice-cream and leather whips, silly, just regular first-team football. Unless someone else knows different, of course!

Three?. More progress upon What The Pathologist Found In My Tum Recently. When I saw my GP about renewing my pills yesterday, it turned out that while the hospital had written a letter informing her that there was no malignancy whatsoever to be found in the biopsy material examined microscopically, nobody had bothered to tell me! As I said to her, somewhat tetchily, it must be said: ?Don?t mind me, I?m only the bloody patient?.?

Four?. Ever heard the old saying about March ?coming in like a lion, and out like a lamb?? Well, I?m not about to sue God on that score, having just heard the third metal dustbin in the space of around 15 minutes go for a very noisy ?walkabout?, in and around the vicinity of our own back garden!

 - Glynis Wright

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