The Diary

05 December 2003: The Fergie Empire Strikes Back!

I guess the whole of the British Isles must have rocked with laughter early this morning when that section of the population (about 99% of us, I reckon), professing to loath and detest Man U with a vehemence frightening to behold, read their newspapers whilst tucking in to their toast and cornflakes, then instantly collapsed in a giggling, helpless heap when they saw last night?s score. Schadenfreude ? laughter at the misfortunes of others - is a lovely word, and it encapsulates perfectly what every football supporter in the country must have felt today. Apart from Britain?s worst losers, of course. If for no other reason than that, well done to our lads for bringing the arrogant sods down a peg or two.

I still can?t believe how much room United gave Bernt Hass to volley that awesome piledriver past their keeper (vague memories of Tony Brown, Sheffield Wednesday, FA Cup Round Three, January 1970, entered my head later!), but I reckon that had it been a normal League encounter for us, any half-competent Nationwide defence would have closed down on Mister Singed Botty within milliseconds of presenting any signs of danger to them. And, while we?re on the subject of inexperience, what about the sheer naivety of them giving away that penalty, plus, of course, their complete inability to counter our offside trap? Then there was that arrogant pillock in the white boots ? Ronaldo ? who most certainly got his come-uppance last night, and serve him right, as well.

At least we?ve got our reward in heaven for doing unto United what most of the rest of the footie-loving population of this country would like to do to them, and that?s a live tie versus The Arse two weeks last Tuesday. I?m not usually the biggest fan of the Sky behemoth and the way it tends to squash the wishes of clubs and their supporters on those occasions their circus rolls into town, but this time, I?m all for Rupert Murdoch?s lot as it means lotsa luvverly money in the kitty for us. According to tonight?s E and S, that could well be in the order of a million quid, a sum that could easily finance us a player, and a bloody good one at that. Mind you, according to another article in that esteemed journal, it?s now looking as though Dingle Dean Sturridge won?t be a temporary Baggie after all; after all the ballyhoo concerning his supposed availability on loan, Head Dingle Dave Jones has now decided his need is greater than anyone else?s, so he ain?t going nowhere, sunshine! Having said that, in transfer-parlance, a ?no? sometimes means ?maybe?, so we may not have heard the last of this business after all.

I?m writing this having returned from Altrincham, which is, of course, in Greater Manchester. Why? Because of Albion versus United Part Two, that?s why! Yep, tonight we were treated to a Premiership Reserve League rerun of the whole thing, with a couple of significant differences to last night. First off, we were playing in their back-yard and not ours, secondly, it really was our reserves playing theirs, and thirdly, we happened to lose by precisely the same margin that we won by last night! Having said that, actually getting out of the Midlands at all proved to be a problem of almost insuperable proportions. We left GD Towers at around half-four, which, for a seven o?clock kick-off, was more than ample time to make the Lancashire trip. Come half-five, we still hadn?t cleared the Walsall area, the M6 traffic really was that bad, honest. We were on the verge of giving it up as a bad job, when the near-gridlock suddenly melted away, and we were cruising at normal motorway speed once more. Even so, and with a smooth run all the way after that, we still didn?t arrive at their place until about a minute after the start.

There is a match-report elsewhere ? no, hubby didn?t write it this time ? so I?ll just furnish you with the basic details for now, and you can then mug up in more detail should reserve outings be your bent. As far as United went, some of those that played last night ? Eagle, Nardiello, plus a couple of the kids we saw twiddling their thumbs (playing with their dummies?) on the bench - were in tonight?s line up. As far as our lot were concerned, it was the usual mix of youngsters and sidelined old pros, the exception to that rule being Big Dave, who, I suspect, will be playing a pivotal role in Saturday?s proceedings, hence his complete absence from our bench last night, and his second-half substitution this evening.

Also on offer was Lloyd Dyer, plus ? and a total surprise to us, this ? the return of Tam Mkandawire from Hereford United. Sure, he?d been suspended after that somewhat harsh early-doors dismissal versus Margate, but I would have thought it more worth his while hanging on in there at Edgar Street, as he certainly was an asset to the cash-strapped Bulls, bless their microscopically-thin first-team squad. The problem is, he?ll only get a couple of games in with us in the next few weeks, so there won?t be much of a shop-window for his talents at all. As for the goals, the first we conceded on 60 minutes, courtesy of a wicked deflection, and the second, on 75 minutes, was a bit of an all-round cock up. Our keeper ? not Danny ?Bigfoot? Crane, by the way ? managed to make a brilliant stop from one of the United attackers? thunderbolts, but failed to hang on to the bloody thing, it fell to a predatory Manc, and that was all they needed, really. Annoying, because our keeper had already done superbly the most difficult aspect of the job!

That was a very brief version of what happened, of course ? as I said, there will be a more detailed account elsewhere - but what of the venue itself? This was the first time either of us had visited this particular ground; old hands might remember that only a few years ago, Altrincham were a major force in the Conference, and at one point were knocking very loudly on the door of the League. Around 2000, Kiddy pipped them to the title, and it all went rapidly downhill from there. Relegation followed within a couple of seasons, and they now ply their trade in the Northern Prem ? at the wrong end, sadly. There?s every chance they might have slid even lower down the greasy non- league ladder come the start of next season. If that happens, it?ll be a shame, as they boast one of the few ?traditional? grounds left in England. By that, I mean a place with lots of terracing space, chunky crush-barriers and all, and, glory of glories, a pukka wooden stand, a la Witton Road in former years, a place where you can clap and stamp to your heart?s content should you happen to be of the Aston Villa persuasion ? but not, of course, smoke. A place that positively cries out for beery odours, suffused with the tang of fried onions and cooking frankfurter sausages, intermingled with a hint of Bovril heated to scalding-point. What I call a ?proper? ground, in other words.

It was great to find amongst all those half-frozen Mancs a fair sprinkling of our own, including loads of folkies from Northern Branch, plus, of course, ever-presents Mike and Linda Thomas. Is there any Baggies game, anywhere, those pair wouldn?t show their faces? Even if we suddenly announced an interest in playing in the Interplanetary League, venue, the Moon, they would be booking the next rocket our of Cape Canaveral. Cheers also to Dave Baxendale for writing a match report for us, and sending it so promptly! Oh ? and one other thought. Lots of what looked like scouts at the place also. No, not the sort that do good deeds, erect tents, dib and dob, and have unfeasibly-large woggles, those that clubs like ours employ to freeze their major assets off at games like tonight?s in the frequently-fond hope they?ll unearth a nugget or two, and preferably, one costing as little as possible! I?m absolutely full of curiosity as to who constituted their target for tonight. Lee Marshall? It?s possible; his game was a vast improvement on his usual ?run around like a blue-arsed fly for the first twenty minutes, then give up the ghost completely? sort of thing, but I reckon some of those United youngsters might have figured prominently in their busy notebooks; after all, not all of them are destined to follow in Beckham?s till-chinging footsteps, are they?

Tomorrow, we?re off to visit Laraine Astle, and have an almighty chin-wag with her about all things Albion, and, I daresay, about that United win. Laraine was there last night, and it was her that arranged for the messages about daughter Clare?s birthday to be read out and shown on the big screen at half-time. More around the time of the witching hour, until then, adios.

And finally?. One. Whatever next? Bondage gear and stout leather whips in our dressing-room? I really do wonder after reading the following. Apparently - well, it was on The Sun?s website, so it?s got to be true, hasn?t it? ? after that stonkingly good win last night, cold baths and surgical tights worn in bed were the order of the day for our finest. Or was it, as suggested in their article, that some of our players secretly enjoy wearing them? The thought of all our players walking around their lounges and bedrooms looking like so many Norah Battys - ?Ooh, are there any wrinkles in the seam, luv?? or, ?Sod it, I?ve just laddered the buggers ? and it?s my last pair!? - does have its moments! Ooer ? and, judging from the above deliciously-suggestive revelations, especially the stuff about cold baths, is there a whiff of a possibility there could be far more to the name ?Bernt Hass? than we?d previously imagined?

Two. Had to laugh when I was directed onto the Beeb website this morning by a mate (thanks, Amanda!) sending a mail to tip me off. Talk about the cheeky sods trying to rewrite history; according to them, last night?s score was ? erm - Albion 0, Man United 2!

Three. This afternoon, before setting off for the land of ?Corrie?, we decided to do our weekly shop at Savacentre. All was well until we reached the checkout, and the assistant there asked ?Im Indoors, ?Do you want the points??

Hearing that, I simply couldn?t resist it. ?Yes please,? I replied, ?In excess of 80 by the end of the season, if that?s at all possible, luv!?

 - Glynis Wright

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