The Diary

30 April 2003: It's A Family Affair!

Interesting, isn't, it that Danny Dichio is now reported to be ready to look for a new club unless negotiations with our favourite football club come up with the goods, i.e. a longer contract? According to the E and S, DD has but a year left on his original deal, and has stated he is reluctant to move his family to The Black Country unless Albion can guarantee an extension to it. It must be said that DD, unlike others in the squad who have fallen foul of the Dear Leader, somehow managed to worm his way back into favour after that early-season spat over some disciplinary matter or another, plus Meggo's discomfiture with yer man having to commute from the outer metropolis. Having seemingly put all that nonsense behind him, and having banged a few into the back of the net, he's now trying to negotiate better terms for himself, but according to the report, since the opening shots of the campaign were fired, the silence from The Shrine has been deafening.

The sticking-point, according to the piece, is the children. No, they're nothing to do with Gary, and I'm sure that DNA testing will prove that beyond all reasonable doubt anyway! Seriously, though, it's just that DD feels that if he complies with Meggo's wishes and moves to The Midlands, without any sort of guarantee that he won't be out of the door come the end of his current deal in a year's time, he's concerned his family might end up getting well and truly stuffed, and disrupted unnecessarily, and to be honest, I can't really blame him for holding out for an improved deal.

The thing is, we're all accustomed to the demands of players when contract negotiations come to the fore, and normally, our reaction is to say "Yeah, yeah - greedy wotsit." then return to more pressing matters, like going to the chippy, or feeding the cat, but the bottom line is this. There's two issues at stake here, really; the first is that of the potential disruption to Danny's domestic bliss. The second? I'll come back to that one shortly. Having no children of my own to bring up, I've no direct experience of the family traumas involved in moving great distances, but I am acutely aware of the disruption such a move can cause to a child's education, or, for that matter, to a spouse's career; this, of course, can have a knock-on effect around Dad's chosen profession. Will there be a decent school for the kids? Can I find a property in a pleasant location for my family? Will my partner's job prospects suffer if I uproot her? Separated from her friends and relations, will she get lonely up here?

It's awfully hard to concentrate on the matter in hand - be it brain surgery, football, or whatever - if there's domestic disharmony lurking in the background, therefore it would seem to be in Albion's interests to get this matter sorted ASAP. And it's not unreasonable to suggest this option; over the course of a godawful season where our strike-rate has not been of the best, DD has at least managed to notch up a small bagful of Premiership goals for the club, and, that apart, although he's not the most skilled performer we have on our books, at least he puts 100% into his performances, which, in the ultimate analysis, is all you can ask of anyone. And, being pragmatic about things, if he can find the net in the Prem, he surely will be able to repeat the feat - and more - back in the Nationwide?...

Funny, isn't it? The first full season Meggo was our leader, I remember penning a paragraph in this Diary very early on about a chance encounter between our manager and The Noise prior to a home game. To recap briefly, what happened was this: The Noise was selling Dicks in his usual place, outside the entrance to the Players' Lounge, in Halfords' Lane. I can't remember which player's transfer negotiations sparked the conversation - it may have been Big Dave, but I wouldn't like to enter a court of law and swear on oath about it - but what I do know is our garrulous Stokie then engaged in a lengthy discourse with a supporter about players not wanting to move (and, by inference, negotiate extensions to contracts) unless they were totally satisfied that their kids would have decent schools to go to, there would be suitable housing available in an amenable location, and that their wives or girlfriends would be happy living (and working) in the area. Yes, the change of football club was an issue of some priority, but, in some ways, that of ensuring the happiness of that player's nearest and dearest was of prime importance also. Finally pausing for breath, The Noise then fell quiet - only to feel a tap on the shoulder from behind. Turning round, who should be standing there but Meggo himself! "I was listening to what you had to say, just then," he said, "-and quite right, too!"

I must say that when The Noise relayed this snippet to me, at the time, I was dead impressed with our leader's take on the subject; it's hardly a state secret to say that the views of some gaffers (and I'm not just talking about football, here) on related issues can be almost Neanderthal at times. Given these were Meggo's views on the matter around two years ago, I find it strange that this particular issue should be rearing its ugly head right now. Surely, if Megson's happy with DD's performance, he should be smoothing the way for things to happen, which brings me neatly onto the second issue I mentioned, which is this: surely it's a bit rich for someone who commutes from Sheffield on a day-to-day basis to be at odds with a player for commuting from London on a - erm - day-to-day basis?

I'd always thought that the hallmark of a good leader was one prepared to do so by example; it's no good telling people to do things, or make sacrifices, if you're not prepared to do similar yourself, and be seen to be doing it. This is one of the reasons why politicians are currently wondering why very few voters take their utterances seriously any more; come to think about it, it's one of the main reasons why young people have completely lost faith in politicians right across the left-right spectrum. Why should we be surprised when players react in similar fashion when instructed to move from one end of the country to another by someone who can't be arsed to do so himself? This is clearly a matter that needs sorting, and quick-smart, too. Time for a liberal application of common sense from someone higher up in the Albion hierarchy? I should co-co?

This evening, we spent some time at The Fart's house, doing our horticultural thing. Percy Throwers we most certainly ain't, but the general idea revolved around planting beans and peas, temporarily lodging the containers with our vintage co-editor, then reaping the harvest later on this summer. As The Fart has a vested interest in the crop, he was also busily engaged with 'Im Indoors on planting duties tonight; remarkable, considering that his last experience of gardening on that scale, over 40 years ago, ended in herbaceous horror. What happened? Simple. At the time, our Crimea-veteran chum and missus, having just tied the knot, were living in a caravan on the outskirts of Brum. That first summer of married bliss, they decided to brighten up their immediate surroundings by planting some seeds; having made the executive decision to embark on this particular course of action, El Tel then trooped off to his local purveyor of horticultural items, purchased a variety of flower which seemed to guarantee a riot of colour with a minimum of effort, and duly planted then in the soil, with lashings of water, of course, to assist them in the task of germination - then both went away on holiday, thinking, no doubt, of the abundance of fragrant blossoms that would greet them on their return.

Trouble was, The Fart, totally misreading the packet instructions, had badly overestimated the numbers of seeds required to fill that limited amount of space. The result? On their return, they were greeted by something more akin to a scene from 'Day Of The Triffids' than the normal fruits of agricultural labour; sepals, petals, tendrils, leaves, roots, even, twisting, twining just about everywhere - and I really do mean everywhere! According to rumour, it took the combined efforts of determined work with a machete, coupled with some judicious snipping with garden shears, to even make it to the front door of their bijou Shangri-La?.

And finally... After the levity of the previous paragraph, this one's dead serious, folkies... I've had a mail from Sean Willis testing the water about putting on the market a DVD/video compiled from BBC footage - from a programme made at the time - of the 1968 FA Cup win highlights. Apparently, Sean has worked for many years in the video industry, and has access to the Beeb's archives. The whole thing is approximately 55 minutes long, and includes the presentation of the trophy at Wembley. At the moment, it's just a bit of market-research on his part, so there's no details on cost, availability, and so forth just yet. All Sean wants to know at present is how many Baggies reading this column would be interested in buying it, so that he can get some idea of the potential, and therefore, likely demand for the thing should it go on general sale. If the idea does tickle your fancy, don't get in touch with me - contact Sean direct. His email address is: seanwillis@btinternet.com so any comments etc., send them there.

 - Glynis Wright

Contact the Author

Diary Index