The Diary

19 November 2003: The Week That Was, And What I've Been Up To.

It?s been almost a week since my last posting, and right now, I?m basking in the relatively tropical climes of Bearwood. Presumably, the global-warming theory-wallahs must be having a field-day in their heated arguments with the politicians (and, more importantly, George Bush!) at the moment, because I can quite honestly say I?ve never before experienced mid-November temperatures soaring into the high teens Centigrade. It probably doesn?t mean a lot to those of you reading this whilst luxuriating in the sultry heat of Oz, or New Zealand, but when you realise freezing fog, frost and temperatures of around 6 or 8 Centigrade are more usually par for the course for Blighty around this time of year, you?ll begin to understand what I?m banging on about, and why. Believe it or not, we were still harvesting tomatoes from our plants at the end of October; an unprecedented phenomenon for these relatively high latitudes.

Mind you, there are some doom-merchants now opining that global warming will switch off the Gulf Stream completely (if you want, I?ll willingly explain what that one?s about before any Albion game!) and we?ll eventually end up with Siberian-style winters. Quite an interesting (and contrasting!) choice of futures, isn?t it? In about twenty years time, then, will I be watching January and February Albion games wearing what I now consider to be typically-autumn clothing? Or, alternatively, will I be cursing mightily those twelve-foot snowdrifts, icicles hanging over my front door like miniature swords of Damocles, and (a sobering thought, this!) the horrors of domestic League football going down the Scandinavian route by shutting the season down completely during those frostbitten, frigid winter months? Or will I simply be quietly festering away in some OAP?s home moaning vaguely about temperatures not being what they were in my youth?

At least I?ve managed to spend the time gained by our enforced break profitably ? I do have other interests apart from the beautiful game, you know! ? by catching up on digesting the contents of several second-hand books I bought at Hay On Wye a couple of months ago. One I?ve found particularly fascinating is a bound copy of all the Lancet medical journals printed in 1947; not only is there a strong echo of the wonderment felt at that time within the medical profession at the many uses to which newly-mass-produced penicillin could be put, there?s also a fascinating blow-by-blow, as-it-happened account of the creation of the NHS from the wreckage, both economical and human, of an all-too recent world war. There was also a strange now phenomenon entering the vocabulary of healthcare professionals around that time, and that was what would be termed ?bed-blocking? in these more-enlightened days. Did I just hear someone quietly mutter there was nothing new under the sun? Modern-day politicians, Blair included, should be forced to read such stuff in quantity before embarking upon leadership of any major political party.

And, within those pages, there are, too, brief glimpses of bacteriological and viral horrors hopefully banished forever from these shores, or, at any rate, much-diminished in their potential to terrorise these days. To give just one example, did you know there was a smallpox outbreak in nearby Bilston around that time, which affected quite a few people, and even killed some? Fascinating stuff, but I still have a couple of volumes left to read; at the rate I?m currently going, I might even get them finished before the end of the current season!

Back to the footie, then. Last Saturday, there being no Baggies interest whatsoever, we proceeded once more to Edgar Street, where the mighty Bulls were due to meet Margate in (almost!) mortal combat. Those who followed this column last season might recall the corresponding fixture, when the visitors managed to notch up one of the most improbable goals I?ve ever seen in around forty years of watching football. Briefly, what happened was this; one minute, a hopeful punt from one of the visitors was heading well and truly out of the ground, and into the adjacent car-park behind one of the goals, to ironic cheers from the home end, the next, a great gust of wind (or something) deflected it mightily downwards, and what was only moments earlier an object of ribald humour suddenly became a distinctly-potent threat to the Hereford keeper. The ball bounced, once only, immediately in front of the poor guy, but in such a way as to make retrieval totally impossible, then straight over his head and into the back of the net, to stunned silence from the vast majority of the crowd. Even those in the away end were too shocked to celebrate. See ? I told you it was one of those goals!

No such luck for the visitors this time, but I did see, early on in the game, the dismissal of young Tam Mkandawire, who is, of course, there on loan from our very own football club. What happened? Simple, the incident occurred on the edge of the box, and Tam was deemed to have ?taken out? one of the Margate attackers. Personally, I?d thought that the ?wronged party? had indulged in some ?amateur dramatics? of his own; the problem was that Tam, technically, was the ?last man?, and in the ref?s eyes, he simply had to go. Harsh, in my book, because the amount of contact was minimal, but that will mean a lengthy suspension for the lad, therefore he won?t be of any use to the cider-slurpers any more. Will the Bulls be sending him back to us, I wonder? Interesting, also, that the aforementioned ?victim? was to over-egg several more infractions, and was, if I remember correctly, eventually booked for doing precisely that, although the subsequent conduct of the Margate players as a whole was such as to make them the target of the referee?s bits of coloured plastic on many occasions.

Still, justice was finally done, as the ten-man home side eventually came back from behind to nick the winner late doors. What helped was the fact that numerical parity was again restored in the second half thanks to some Neanderthal-type tackling on the part of the visitors, who lacked the guile and native cunning of the ? erm ? ?robust? Accrington ex-pro side I saw in action about ten days previously. Also interesting was a similar offence to Tam?s perpetrated on a marauding Bull by one of the visitors ? again, it was on the edge of the box, and arguably, the offender was also the ?last man? ? but this time, the referee inexplicably refrained from delving into his back pocket!

Oh, and one other thought; despite the recent announcement that there are now 24 confirmed cases of Legionnaire?s Disease in the Hereford area, since our return from the town on Saturday night, thus far, our respective respiratory tracts have remained distinctly disease-free, although at one stage during Saturday?s game, I did begin to wonder. My doubt was caused by an unexpectedly lurid sunset slap-bang in the middle of the second half. That weird, but stunningly-beautiful, crimson-pinkish glow behind the Len Weston Stand didn?t bother me one bit ? until my beloved (who actually lived in the area for zillions of years), chose to remark at that precise moment that the area of radiant sky in question was located plumb-spang over the Bulmers cider factory believed to be the source of the outbreak!

On the way back, after rejoicing at the splendid and welcome news that Watford triumphed over the near-unbeatable-at-home Canaries by the odd goal in three ? well, anything that leaves us still standing proud at the top of the heap has to be thoroughly celebrated! - we spent the remainder of the journey listening to radio commentary on the Russia-Wales encounter. It was particularly pleasing to note that both Jason Koumas and AJ acquitted themselves brilliantly on the day, but at the same time, both of us fervently hoped that neither of them would return to The Shrine with unwanted gifts in the shape of injuries serious enough to keep them out of our next League encounter. At the time of writing ? early Wednesday evening ? it?s looking pretty much as though both will be in action again for Wales in the second leg game tonight. I?m also hoping that Jason?s brilliance against our Russkie friends won?t, come January, invite unwelcome attention from Premiership clubs possessive of enough ackers to seriously unsettle the lad.

Well done also, Mr. Gaardsoe, who managed to get twenty minutes on his debut for Denmark last Sunday. Am I right in thinking we can now, in theory at least, put out an entire defence and midfield consisting of nothing but full internationals? Also of note was the curious tradition in Danish international football whereby new-bugs are duty-bound to deliver a post-match dressing-room speech to their new national team colleagues! Our hero confined his to expressing a wish that he would be seeing them again before long, but it did make me wonder what would happen if the custom was then extended to our domestic game! Imagine, say, a distinctly-underwhelmed Houlty having to niftily compose a short spoken treatise for the benefit of his team-mates whilst still plastered with mud, freezing cold, and thoroughly soaked to the skin, not to mention eyes stuffed painfully full of ?Vic?? Quite.

It was a shame to read recently that Andy Hunt?s time at Charlton has finished; although he did play two reserve games for the Valiants, it appears they won?t give him a further contract. Not knowing the full details, I can?t say whether or not his medical condition (ME) had anything to do with it, but I?m pretty confident that whatever Andy decides to do in the future, he?ll be a success. From what I remember about him and his time with us, I recall him telling us he had a fistful of A levels to his credit before becoming a footballer, so should he wish to embark upon a higher education course instead, he?d be rather well-equipped to cope with it. Just as well, really, as I can?t, for a minute, imagine him wanting to take up management, or coaching. Andy, like Richard Sneekes, wasn?t what you?d describe as a ?typical footballer?, more like someone who constantly marched to the tune of a different drummer. In fact, there were many times when I wondered what he was doing in the game at all, but whatever he does decide to do eventually, good luck with it, I say.

Talking of farewells, it might well be we?ll be bidding adieu to Danny Dichio (plus sideboards!) very soon. Recalled back from his loan spell at Derby, it?s now clear that Millwall also want a piece of his particular style of action, and, what?s more, want to pay us for his services, therefore it wouldn?t surprise me at all if we decided to play ball with Denis Wise and his East London side. There?s still talk of us shipping in a loan forward from somewhere ? Carl Cort?s name is again being bandied around by some ? so whatever we could get from flogging DD would come in very handy indeed.

That?s about the sum-total of what I?ve been up to this week, then. Tomorrow ? we haven?t definitely made our minds up yet ? we may be going to the South Birmingham Branch meeting where former Albion player and, more recently, back-room boy, Brendon Batson, will be holding forth as their guest for the evening. If we do decide to go, there will be something written up in this space; if we don?t, expect another gripping instalment on Friday night, pre-Reading.

And finally?..One. A lovely (not!) story about our obnoxious ?friends? seven or so miles up the A41 has come to my notice recently, courtesy of my good-buddy Anc. It appears that while working in Church Stretton in Shropshire, our hero was merrily chatting to a guy in the local Post Office, when the following tale of woe came to his attention. First off, the guy was a Dingle, but one of considerable maturity ? he turned 65 on the 30th of August - so that?s all right, then. He?s also a season-ticket holder (I didn?t say he was a sensible ?wrinkly?, did I?), and had enjoyed this status for some 58 years, but when he went to The Scrap Yard to renew same for this season, the problems really began. Why? Well, the clue?s in the 65th birthday ? 30/8/2003; by that time, only one home game would have come and gone, but would Dingle Admin allow our hero enjoyment of a season-ticket at a reduced ?senior rate?? Not on your Nellie! He was told there was nothing they (the Dingles) could do about it, he?d have to pay the full rate, and, as if that wasn?t enough, when some of his mates secretly enquired about getting the bloke a half-time birthday mention, they were told, ?That?ll be ten pounds, please?.? It usually takes quite a lot to flabber my ghast, but this one has really taken the biscuit. Dearie, dearie me.

Two. While you?re reading this in your usual state of gloriously rude health tonight, spare a thought for The Old Fart. He recently attended his local GP?s surgery to have a flu injection, only to find, several days later, that he?d ended up with the mother of all colds by way of a ?free gift?! Every doctor I?ve spoken to about the subject tells me it?s impossible to acquire unwanted viral baggage in that way, but why is it that so many people having this beastly vaccination subsequently end up telling me a similar tale? A theory?s poor consolation for the bug-ridden old sod, though; right now, he?s sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of a gloriously pungent scent, has a cough that would put a consumptive to shame, and now rejoices (a seasonal touch, this!) in a conk almost as rubicund as Rudolph?s as well. Oh, and Kleenex Tissues recently organised a special delivery to his local chemists to cope with the surge in sales. More (medicinal?) sherry tonight, Terry?

 - Glynis Wright

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