The Diary

26 November 2003: Ninian Nonsense

I can?t say I was that surprised the conversation turned that way, but our main talking-point on the way down to that wonderful place called Ninian Park this afternoon was Lee Hughes and the latest developments, as we understood them. On our way down the M50, somewhere between Ross On Wye and Monmouth, a friend contacted us to let us know that our striker had been charged with two offences ? and I?m sure those reading this in Blighty will allow me a short digression for the benefit of our further-flung Baggies ? the first being causing death by dangerous driving, and the second being running away from the scene of the accident. Our contact had led us to believe that bail had been refused, so we were quite astonished to hear much later on that bail had been granted after all. This surprised me, as our friend was, what you might say, ?closely in touch with events? but upon thinking about it rationally, what must have happened was that there were conditions and sureties attached, and the police wouldn?t have released him unless there was a cast-iron guarantee those conditions/sureties would be met if push came to shove. Anyway, the case goes before Coventry Magistrates Court tomorrow (Wednesday) afternoon; as the police have granted bail already, I would be surprised if the magistrates then refuse it again. Nothing will be decided, though; the matter will almost certainly be remitted to the (higher) Crown Court for disposal at a date to be fixed. The charges are almost certainly too serious to be dealt with at magistrates court level. Obviously, it?s now up to Lee and his solicitor to decide if he wants to put his hands straight up to the offences, or whether to go the whole hog of a jury trial. As to the rights and wrongs of the case ? don?t ask me to comment in this diary, because I?m just sticking to the bare facts, and keeping well out of it!

Returning to the main subject-matter of this piece once more, as we?d made quite good time in the old Dickmobile, before we knew it, we were on the M4 not far from the Newport junctions, and heading eastwards on that motorway for Cardiff proper. Although I used to travel the M4 regularly during the late seventies and eighties, the mode of approach to the ground (and the city, come to think about it) has changed considerably. No more the windy approach through run-down and (quite frankly) blighted areas; now, it?s dual carriageway almost to the ground; in fact, we could see the floodlights casting their trademark yellow-white glow from a considerable distance away. Oh, and one other thing, the rain, which had just consisted of =random spots earlier in the journey, now began to tip down with a vengeance. (Vagrant thought: why is it, whenever I travel to the Principality, it always tips buckets? Do I have a personal rain-cloud that seeks me out every time I go over the Severn Bridge, or over the border via the M50 ? or am I just paranoid?) Eventually, we hove onto Ninian Park?s huge car-park ? so capacious, it?s used as a ?park and ride? when there?s a game on at the nearby Millennium Stadium ? and what a vast improvement on the ramshackle collection of broken glass and pothole-suffused Tarmac that awaited us before pre-season friendlies in recent years. Three?s a proper road there, now, and lighting I consider worthy of the name. The stewards were also on the ball (although we were charged a couple of quid to go on there, but as it?s about the only decent parking in the vicinity of the ground, they had us over a barrel, really), so it wasn?t long before we were heading towards the ground proper; just as well, really, as by then, the precipitation was truly getting into its stride.

Although I?ve been there for pre-season friendlies, in broad daylight and reasonable temperatures, for me, this was the first time I?d ever set foot in the place for a League game. In fact, having spoken to a fair number of the away ?regulars? over the last few weeks, quite a few of them were also Ninian Park ?virgins?! Yes, Dave Watkin, Albion ?ever-present? (including Anglo-Italian games, both home and away!) since 1991, that also means you! A quick natter also to The Drinking Family, who, just for a change, were bemoaning their frustration to date in not being able to find in the area ? shock, horror! - a chippie! What? Not supping in a local boozer? Blimey, they must have been feeling unwell, or something! Also lurking ? he could lurk for England, that bloke ? was our mate Tim, of Sutton Branch fame. But, the away turnstile beckoned, and with it a notice that stopped me in my tracks ? and had me practically wetting myself with laughter. What was it? Simple; what looked like a passable imitation of the sort of ?stop? signs you see on school gates, or similar institutions. Circular, white-painted, with a big red ?bar? slap-bang on the ?equator? where, usually, you?ll find the word ?STOP? emblazoned in big white letters ? but this one was different. Instead, there it was, and meant as a dire warning to all entrants. ?NO HOOLIGANS!? it read, hence my sudden hysterical giggling fit. So they?re going to be trembling in their boots on seeing that, then? No, don?t bother answering that one!

And, once inside, there were the ladies toilets. Let me put it that way, the Principality must have the monopoly on lack of hygiene at football grounds, because the last time I clapped (ooer, but in that germ-laden place, anything was possible!) eyes on a convenience so rank was at Swansea about three seasons ago, when we went there for a League Cup tie. No bin for the paper towels, so you had to stack then in some sort of a dampened heap on the floor instead. Damien Hirst would probably have won a prestigious art prize for that arrangement, but all we got was a soggy floor and distinctly-chapped hands. Oh, and the bog flushes were of very ancient vintage, the sort of design I thought had gone out of fashion in the early sixties! Once out, and (hopefully) not bringing any stray pathogens with me, it was then down to the terrace to indulge in that long-forgotten pre-match pastime of staking our claim to a decent spot. And, we thought we?d cracked it, but hadn?t reckoned with other factors doing their level best to put their oar into things.

What were they? First off, the traffic. We?d done the run with no problems whatsoever on our part, but (as we were told much later), not long after our arrival, the traffic began to back up all the way to the motorway exit, about five or six miles away. This meant that loads of Baggies were late for the kick-off; in fact they were still streaming in just before half-time, which, of course, meant a load of people slowly shuffling (and gawping) past our vantage-point and blocking our view of the game. Not their fault, of course, but annoying all the same. The other? Again simple; it?s been about 10 years since The Hawthorns went all-seater, and I swear there is now a generation of Baggies growing up that simply don?t know terrace etiquette and customs. Certainly, there were lots coming into the ground that just didn?t understand that you just chose the spot you liked, and simply plonked yourself there! Oh dear, it didn?t half conspire to make me feel a bit of an old fart.

But ? the game, the game! After a rather noisy pre-match musical blitz on the eardrums, both teams emerged (Squelched? It was still raining like the clappers!) from the tunnel, and before too long, we were off in earnest. In view of what I shall merely term the ?Unusual Circumstances?, we had Rob Hulse in the attack, and partnering him, Scott Dobie. I can?t say I was surprised, as Deech?s injury had looked quite bad as he hobbled off last weekend, and to stick him on the bench was a wise precaution, in my book. In my opinion, a draw was a fair result overall, but both sides could have nicked it, though. Cardiff set out their stall early-doors when they had Houlty earning his corn with a workmanlike save with just a couple of minutes showing on the clock, and not long after that Cardiff headed just wide. At that stage, we were looking a little pushed, and as the game progressed and the home side still looked dangerous when going forward, it really seemed at the time that my altered pre-match prediction of a 2-0 defeat was going to come to pass. It was around the 20th minute, though, that we finally began to get back into the game; Hulse made the Cardiff keeper think a little with a volley from a cross, but the lad had sufficient wits about him to parry the ball away.

Then, it was Cardiff?s turn to make us reach for the bike-clips once more, but their effort luckily missed the target, which then gave the star of the show, Jason Koumas, the chance to go on a run that beat just about everyone, including poor Scott Dobie, who was patiently waiting for the ball on the far post, but in the meantime, the ref blew for offside anyway. Thanks to our Welsh wizard ? must have been the smell of the ?green green grass of home? or something! ? we began to call the tune to a far greater extent than before. Mind you, the most hilarious effort from our lot was that of James O?Connor (the guy tame Stokies warned me couldn?t score in a brothel!) who manoeuvred himself into a perfect shooting position about ten or twelve yards out, got the ball, girded up his loins to apply the coup de grace ? only to miss it completely, and instead, let his momentum stage a passable impression of a Dervish doing a bit of double-time whirling!

Thus far, the game had, on the balance of things, been about even-stevens, and as the end of the first half drew nigh, I had visions of the whole affair ending bloodlessly and boringly. Which only goes to prove you should never take anything in football for granted, because just before the interval, poor Scott Dobie and Fate met in a headlong collision. Or, to put it another way, as I?d thought at the time, Fate cunningly disguised as a goal-post. One minute there was both the Cardiff custodian and Scott going for the same ball, the next, we had a player on the ground, and someone calling for a stretcher. Off he went, to sympathetic applause from our supporters massed behind the same goal, and an oversized headache, both for him, and, because of our striker-crisis, the club. Clearly, Dobes wasn?t fit to carry on, so who to bring on by way of replacement? Logic suggested Deech, but we got Sakiri instead. No worries, really; he?d played up front before, so at least we had someone competent to be there, but it was only during the interval we began to ask the obvious question ? why not Deech? Clearly, the fitness of our recalled ?main armament? was in some doubt, otherwise, he?d have been straight on, no messing.

On to the second half, then, and, to be quite honest, I?d expected to see much of the same; a war of attrition, a bit like the First World War, really, with both sides pushing a lot, but conceding little. And then, with about 4 minutes of the half gone, it happened. I certainly wasn?t expecting us to hit the jackpot, but bag the spot-prize we did, and all down to that man Jason Koumas ? with a little help (ironic, really) from ex-Albionite and superb Cardiff defender Danny Gabbidon; on its way to the target, the ball took a horrible deflection off the lad, and there was sod-all their keeper could do about it, really. Not that we were arguing, mind!

It was after we took the lead that the referee began to play more of a role in what transpired subsequently. To be fair, he?d seemed pretty even-handed for most of the game, but about 15 minutes after Jason?s goal, he absolutely enraged the 2,000 or so Albionites there by awarding Cardiff a penalty, and one, I have to say, where among the 17,000 souls in the ground that night, only the referee actually saw the infringement! Bernt Hass was deemed to be the offender, and was supposed to have tripped Cardiff?s Bonner in the box, but the guy should have been awarded an Oscar, not a spot-kick, because he collapsed like a sack of spuds the moment Hass went near him, and the match official was well and truly conned by this sudden mastery of the thespian arts. Infuriating, as we?d perceived Cardiff had shot their bolt after conceding, and until that happened, I don?t think our defence had been at all troubled by thoughts of an equaliser.

Things then began to become a tad wild and woolly, and encouraged by their previous success in pulling the wool over the eyes of the man with the whistle, they began to explore other possibilities, this time on the edge of the box, and we had to look lively to avoid conceding again. As a result, Greegs ended up in the book ? I believe this means he?s suspended very soon, as he?s gone over the five allowed ? and for a while, things began to look rather hairy for us. Right then, I would have taken the draw and ran!

Towards the end, we could have actually nicked it; for once, we were awarded a free-kick on the edge of the box (to ironic cheers from the groundlings in the away-end!), up stepped You-Know-Who, and the resultant thunderbolt then zapped keeper Alexander, who had to dive something sharpish to avoid instant backache picking the thing out of the back. Not long afterwards, Sakiri was taken off ? to be honest, he hadn?t really looked the part in that role ? and Deech was brought on for the last five only. Was that because of doubts regarding his fitness? We?ll soon know. And, right at the death, Jason nearly did it again, this time, the free-kick, more distant this time, took yet another deflection on its way, and ?yer man? had to have his wits about him yet again to save the day for the home side.

And so, the whole thing ended with honours shared. Fair enough, I thought, as both sides could have nicked it ? and there was the happy news from elsewhere that Norwich had drawn and Reading had lost, so we?re still top of the heap. All that was fine and dandy, but our immediate problems lay in actually getting out of the ground. For reasons which became all-too apparent once we?d left, the local plods had a policy of holding the visiting supporters back for 10-15 minutes after the final whistle. Shades of the late seventies and eighties as we waited patiently for those gates to finally open, but even more frustrating was the fact we weren?t allowed to reach our parked vehicles by the most direct route, but were herded into the coach-park instead. And then I saw the reason why; a line of plods, about two-strong, plus police dogs, horses, flushing toilets, the works, holding back some rather-aggrieved locals. And all this because we?d held then to a draw? Just as well we didn?t claim all three points, then, wasn?t it? Truly a descent into a time-warp back to scenes I?d thought were banished forever from most grounds in the country these days. Please, please, lads, make sure we go up as of right next May, because I?d hate to tangle with that lot in a play-off game!

It says a lot for the intelligence (or the lack of it) of the boneheads waiting, slavering at the mouth, no doubt, for our emergence from the front exits that access to our vehicle was perfectly possible via an exit to the rear of the coach-park, so it was a matter of simplicity to find our jalopy once more. And, another surprise; straight out, more or less, and onto the M4, no bother. In truth, we had expected to sit and stew there for a good half-hour, but our ?flyer?, helped by some ?creative driving? on the part of the chauffeur, ensured we arrived back in the Black Country somewhat ahead of schedule.

A couple of thoughts. Anybody, anywhere, know of a decent striker that fancies a move to The Hawthorns? The reason I say this is because during the second half, we saw Dobes emerge from the tunnel, but on crutches. It now appears that the injury to Dobes involved not just the Cardiff ?keeper, but the post as well; apparently, what happened was that when he and the Taff went for the same ball, they collided, but at the same time, poor Dobes?s back hit the post as well. Ouch! Unless Nick Worth is in direct communication with Sister Fatima of Lourdes, and she owes him one, this will mean that we?ll be yet another striker light, so clearly, we?ve got to find another from somewhere. Loan, permanent; I don?t suppose we?ll be that fussed, as long as The Chosen One can do the biz in front of goal. Are there any Prem outfits that want to give a second-stringer a few decent games at a challenging level? Are there any young upstarts from the lower divisions who think they?re hard and want to prove it? Go on, you know you want to do it! Pick up the phone NOW ? and help to make our chairman?s day! And, come to think about it ? mine!

 - Glynis Wright

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