The Diary

15 March 2008: Fox-Hunting Albion-Style - And Still Perfectly Street-Legal, Too!

Hello, Baggie pop-pickers ? it?s me again. In fact, it?s a ?me? very content with life, at the moment, and primarily because it now seems that in direct contrast to the exceedingly-fraught situation that normally prevails when one decides it?s time to strike up tents and move, this particular house-purchase is proceeding very smoothly indeed. Touch wood. Cross my heart and hope to die, and all stations west.

In fact, the only thing that?s giving me any sort of gyp at the moment is my bloody back, which was unsporting enough to stage one of its periodical mutinous spells today: especially annoying when I went along the road to fetch my usual morning paper. Painfully, as it turned out. The house-move in prospect? All the environmental guff for our new place has now been checked by some tame legal eagle or other: despite one early scare, something to do with contaminated land on or near the place ? a ?something and nothing? issue, our Baggie-loving brief now tells us ? everything else is tickety-boo.

The buyer of our current property just happens to be a solicitor herself, so she?s doing the necessary conveyancing for her side of the deal on her tod. A real ?do it yourself? job, in other words - but one not nearly half as drastic as what happened to a female doctor based on an Antarctic research station, some five or six years ago. With her, the problems started when she found a suspicious-looking lump in her breast. For us, no problem: all we would need to do is see a GP, sort out a hospital appointment, have a biopsy done, get booked in for the necessary surgery, and so forth.

Not this poor lady: it being the middle of the Antarctic winter by (access by either aircraft or ship practically impossible, so fat chance of being pulled out that way), and being the sole medic on the base, it really was a case of ?Physician, heal thine self?. Which meant performing a biopsy procedure on her own boob, then, after she?d confirmed the thing was malignant via her joke of a lab, shifting the lump completely on her tod: no general anaesthesia, for obvious reasons, just the local, numbing, variety! A ?cool operator?, in every sense of the phrase.

Remarkably, her DIY surgery proved successful, but I bet it?ll be a long, long time before she even thinks about straying that far from the complete range of diagnostic and surgical options mainstream medicine?s hi-tech facilities will allow (not to mention other medics and ancillary staff!).

But back to the house. We?re given to understand that she?ll be looking to complete by the end of next week, and now we?ve got all the necessary finance in place, mortgage approved, we?re hoping to move in but a matter of a few weeks. Having heard so many horror stories, of late, from various friends and relatives, about such ventures going catastrophically pear-shaped, for one reason or another, we still can?t believe how straightforward the whole thing has been, thus far. Or is Fate, sadistic streak probably building up to a satisfactory head of steam as I write, simply going to hit us with a last-minute variety of whammy, instead? Er ? watch this space.

Having explored the many hazards, real or imaginary, of house-purchase to everyone?s satisfaction, it?s time to turn our attention to our forthcoming game at The Shrine, relegation-threatened Leicester City being our ?house-guests? on this early-spring Saturday afternoon.

Well, it may well be the season when all things are renewed (including season-tickets for next season, so The Fart, journeying to the ground to pick up Charlton tickets this morning, tells us! No less than 19 people ahead of him in the queue wanting to do precisely that, apparently.), but I can?t really see the sap rising on our bid for automatic promotion unless we quickly extract collective fingers from anal sphincter-muscles, and get back to winning ways once more.

After ninety minute?s worth of Colin?s minions giving our lot what amounted to a pretty good working over, last Wednesday night, the overall fitness of our first-team squad is now beginning to show worrying signs of strain. Facing the problem in a relatively positive frame of mind, you might like to take the same line as Mogga, insofar as injuries to Tex (a ?next season? jobbie, if ever there was one), Chris Brunt and James Morrison (forget supermarkets: so nice they named a type of WW2 air-raid shelter after him, as well, wasn?t it?) and Carl Hoefkens are concerned.

Our gaffer?s argument is based upon the obvious premise that those very same injuries will open the door for others fancying a poke at the chance of first team football on a more regular basis. He?s even hinted that he might employ the very same 4-3-3 formation he finished Wednesday night?s bun-fight with, once more. As our South Korean lad featured very prominently as part of that formation, versus Palace ? and, to be fair, did very well indeed - that might well be his chosen tactical option for the side.

As Mogga specifically named Pele, Shergar ? now well and truly back from his short (but VERY successful!) spell on loan to the cider-slurpers fifty miles down the road ? and South Korean whiz-kid Do-Heon Kim as their understudies, it?s largely down to those players to show our leader they do have what it takes to forge a successful Albion career. At least the resultant intense competition for first-team places will prove to be a force for good, what with everything likely to hot up considerably over the next few weeks.

And I?m not necessarily talking about the increase in temperature caused by a rapid change of season, either: soon, very soon, the promotion race will be coming to a full rolling boil, and we?ve got to be ready to leap in quickly, should either Stoke or Bristol City show signs of caving in through a surfeit of intense pressure. Sure, we?re behind, but not by an insuperable margin: one small slip from either of those two, and we?re very much back in business again.

That?s our lot sorted, then, so what about theirs? To be perfectly frank with you lot, The Foxes can now be found well-hunkered in their den, and cowering something awful. Relegation is now a real possibility for Ian Holloway?s currently-beleaguered side - unless he can perform miracles on a par with those some Greening-look-alike or other pulled off with panache around 2,000 years ago, of course. A shame he got so hung up about the Romans, mind, but we all have our crosses to bear, don?t we?

But enough of my disgustingly blasphemous tendencies! Back to the matter in hand. Leicester aren?t exactly what you might call ?good away travellers?, are they? The fact they?ve only won three of their last 19 on the road, and scoring only 14 times in the process, is pretty damning by anyone?s lights. But that dismal record is more than compensated for by the fact they do seem to be this division?s draw specialists: no less than eight away from home have ended up with the Foxes sharing the spoils, thus far.

And they too have a bit of an injury crisis on their hands. Stephen Clemence has a thigh problem, and Jamie Clapham one with his groin (isn?t that the case with ALL blokes, not just knackered footballers?). Currently enjoying ?might be fit in time, but don?t bank your entire life-savings on it? status is Achilles tendon victim Patrick Kisnorbo, with the previously-hamstrung James Wesolowski running him a close second.

Based upon what you?ve just read, you might well find it advantageous to bring a good book to tomorrow?s game: that, or simply tote a good alarm clock, just in case sudden arousal from a state of deep slumber should prove necessary, once the ref blows up for full-time. But I could be proven as dead wrong as it?s possible to be, of course. We badly need the points, our players need to reach the top flight in order to further their careers, either with or without us - and poor saddle-sore Adrian Chiles (and his velocipedal mate Alan Shearer) will most likely be in dire need of cheering up, come the morrow!

And Finally?? One. Jolly good show, Steve The Miser, I say! In an act of bravery (and, quite possibly, parsimony) well beyond the call of duty, just the other night, he successfully managed to access Albion?s spanking-new ticket-purchase facility, thereby securing Wembley semi-final tickets online for everyone in our little Baggie-lovin? party. With everyone?s ticket now sorted OK, the remaining unknown factor in our equation now concerns our chosen method of travel.

As things stand, it?s looking very much as though we?ll be keeping those nice folkies from Sutton Branch company for the duration of the somewhat tedious (and ridiculously early, thanks to the various demands of Sky TV!) trip down the M1 to North London. Which should prove pretty interesting, shouldn?t it? To date, as far as I?m aware, very few of our Sutton chums have ever had serious dealings with The Noise! Earplugs of industrial-grade efficacy will be available from me on the coach, chaps ? but at a price, naturally!

Two?.. And while we?re on the subject of Wembley travel, did I hear it right that Baggies Travel head honcho Dave Holloway wants to get every single London-bound charabanc away from The Hawthorns by 7.30 AM at the very latest? What on earth has the lad been sniffing, I wonder ? and can I have some as well, please, Dave?

 - Glynis Wright

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