The Diary

07 December 2003: 'Oggie' Saves The Day!

Oh dear. Who?s feeling a silly boy tonight, then? Want a clue? OK, try Hayden Mullins, whose spectacularly-nutted own goal gave us all renewed hope at a time when it seemed there was sod-all chance of our lot restoring parity once more. I don?t reckon Mr. Mullins would like to be the recipient of my message right now ? presumably, he?s taken to walking the streets of East London this evening with a brown paper bag stuck firmly on his all-too twitchy napper ? but, for what it?s worth, this gentleman?s unintentional strike for the stripes has now set an all-time Albion record of six own-goals ?for? in a season. Look on the bright side, though, mate: we?re not at the halfway stage of the season yet, so there?s every chance of your totally-unrequited claim to fame being eclipsed by an even more spectacular whoopsy from some other poor sod before too long!

Mind you, history is absolutely littered with tales of eminent folks who managed to perform similar gaffes, albeit not necessarily on the field of play. One of pure genius was the British Postmaster General around 1900. When asked what he thought of the telephone, a comparatively new invention then, his snooty reply was, ?Hmmmph. We have plenty of messenger-boys to perform that function!? We all know about the bloke from Decca records who, in a very career-stopping move, turned down the Beatles in the early sixties, but what about our very own Astronomer Royal, Dr Richard van der Riet Woolley, not long before the Russians launched the first Sputnik, around 1957? When asked whether he thought rocketry and satellites were a feasible possibility, his considered reply was ?Space travel is utter bilge!? Oops!

And, before I leave this subject to embark upon the main business of the day, there?s the spectacular ?oggie? scored by Baggies-lover Nigel Johnson. Who? Well you might ask; Our Nige, bless his chubby cheeks, is based in Banbury and runs a girls football team out there. I?ve known the little tinker for years, from when I worked in Bristol, in fact, and believe you me, he has in abundance what you might describe as a ?twisted sense of humour?. Today, he brought his brood, all forty or so of ?em, to The Shrine, but he must have been affected by a rush of blood to the head, or something, this afternoon because before marshalling his small charges prior to taking them through the turnstiles, he secretly primed the whole bloody lot to come to us as we sold Dicks in Halfords Lane, and ask, in tones as innocent as an angel?s smile, ??Scuse me, is that the programme?? Not all in one rush, mark you, individually, one after another! Death really is too good for him, but because the law takes a dim view of such practices, however merciful, we?ll have to adopt a different tack instead! You may not realise it yet, Nige, but yours was an ?own goal? even more glaring than the one you saw on the pitch later. As the late King used to say, ?Don?t get mad, get even,? so, if you?re reading this, pal, your card is definitely marked ? and don?t say I didn?t warn you!

Turning my attention to today?s game once more, as usual, we all rendezvoused in the Throstle Club prior to hitting the hustings ? and what I saw and heard in there absolutely beggared belief. Normally, when there?s a live game on, the big screen is out and the room is darkened, so Baggie-folkies can watch the Premiership ?appetiser? before leaving for the game proper over the road, but when we walked in today, no screen, no curtains, no footie. Eh? And then we were told the reason why; apparently, whoever runs the place now didn?t renew the Sky subscription, citing excessive costs as the reason for not doing so. Excessive costs? That place? It?s a bloody gold-mine. On matchdays, the massive revenue gathered from hundreds of thirsty Baggies pays those ?subs? and more besides. Could this be the start of the ?death by a thousand cuts? scenario I sketched out a few short columns ago? And it wasn?t just that; there are many smaller indications that slowly, inexorably, the place is being allowed to go down the pan. When I went to use the ?facilities? prior to leaving, I noticed loads of small children running all over the bowling-green, something Ally Brown would never have permitted during his tenure; in fact, had he seen what was happening, he would have expired from apoplexy on the spot. Oh, and we were reduced to single stray rolls of toilet-paper, not the usual dispenser service we previously enjoyed.

One other thing. We now have a totally-different load of bar staff in there: the trouble is, though, they are somewhat linguistically-challenged, as we quickly discovered when The Fart managed to spill a glass of Coke all over the table. The guy clearing up the mess couldn?t understand a word of what we were saying, made a rotten job of the mopping-up, so I finished the job off myself using gash beer-mats to soak up the excess instead. One item, though, which gave us all food for thought; the 1978-79 fixture and team-lists printed in today?s Albion News. Then, UEFA Cup action against sides like Galatasaray, Sporting Braga, Valencia ? yes, that Valencia! ? and Red Star Belgrade featured heavily in our thoughts, and all that on top of a normal (proper?) First Division programme positively coruscating with famous names. As The Noise so pertinently remarked, it would do some of the present generation, who have known little but mediocrity, and think our present performers the bee?s knees because of that, a power of good to be shown that page, and all those famous clubs and players listed within it. As I?ve said before, personal definition of ?success? is relative to what you?re used to ? and my generation is accustomed to far better than the present one.

Just before exiting for selling-duties, I managed to grab a couple of words with The Satanic Nurse who was invited into the directors? box for the United game. Aw, you remember, the one I thought would end up being thrown out for some misdemeanour or another. As things turned out, he wasn?t, but he did wax lyrical on the difference between watching the game from that well-appointed vantage-point, and his Smethwick End terrace perch when he first started watching the Baggies, way back in the early seventies. Such splendid prose, I thought, and what a waste to confine it to the interior of the Throstle Club ? so why not write an article for the Dick about it, I said. A bit of humming and hawing ? and, yes, our tame dispenser of medicaments for the troubled mind (but very inventive off-duty composer of football chants!) will put finger to keyboard for our noble cause after all. Can?t wait.

A quick giggle at all those commemorative (and rather naughty!) T-shirts ?celebrating? our Wednesday win versus The Mancs being peddled in Halfords Lane, and it was back in the old routine once more. Trouble was, an almighty wind was blowing down Halfords Lane from the north, and the net result was that the immediate surroundings then bore more of a resemblance to Ice Station Zebra than was good for them. On went my hat, on went my gloves ? and I was still flaming frozen. Still, our mate Anc then came to my rescue by ?modelling? our club shop?s latest line in leisurewear, which bears more than a passing resemblance to something a burglar might put on to case a joint, or go bounding around the local roof-tops with, a skinny-type knitted, black-ribbed woollen number that positively shrieked ?Going Equipped!? every time I clapped eyes on the thing. Naturally, I pointed this out to my bijou Baggie friend, by asking, ?Is there a free alibi with every one sold, mate?? Anc reckons there?s no chance whatsoever of being ?stopped on suspicion? whilst wearing it, but just wait until after midnight, when you?re having a quick stroll to clear your head before bed, mate ? and, no, cakes with files in them are not my speciality!

And so, the game. Gaining access via our new turnstiles is an absolute doddle now, so little time was wasted hanging around in queues; a pleasingly-short wait, and we were in. And then the team news; I was pleased to see Clem had retained his place - after Wednesday?s superlative performance on the left, he really deserved it ? but our main armament was still Rob Hulse and Danny Dichio. Personally, I?d thought Dobes might have done enough on Wednesday to earn a start, but as Deech is currently playing far better up front than I?ve ever seen him do, I wasn?t about to shout the odds over that minor quibble. As for The Hammers, possessors of the meanest defence in our division, would you believe ? until today, only 17 conceded ? Defoe was out suspended, but our visitors did play Connolly, Harewood and Deane, as I?d suspected yesterday.

Once the ref got the show on the road, we made most of the early running, and West Ham?s rearguard proved to be spectacularly-brittle during those opening exchanges, with both Koumas and Ron Hulse coming close. And, a giggle-making interlude: The Brummie and Smethwick, with memories of the corresponding away fixture still fresh in their minds, sang, for the benefit of the opposing fans, ?Three-nil, and you f***ed it up!? No, the away-end didn?t think it at all amusing ? can?t for the life of me think why!

Eventually, the visitors did settle, and they gradually began to play a more significant role in the proceedings, but a couple of incursions from both sides apart, the whole thing rapidly took on the look of a stalemate similar to that on the Western Front some eighty-odd years ago. The immovable object, the irresistible force - aw, you know the score. Then, not long before the end of the half, an almighty blow for us Baggies: Danny Dichio went down, stayed down, physio Nick Worth ran onto the pitch to do his Doctor Kildare act, but it was no good ? Deech had to come off, which was a shame, really, as he?d more than pulled his weight that half. Off he went, with the applause of the crowd ringing in his ears, but, more worryingly, clutching his groin. The official site says he might have a hernia, but they?ll know more when the experts have another look tomorrow. Let?s hope that this provisional diagnosis is incorrect, because if Deech does need an op, without any cover whatsoever, we?re in Detritus Creek without a paddle. Hey! Psst! Wanna flog a striker, somebody ? anybody? - all on the QT, no questions asked?

Still the show must go on, and this meant Dobes and all who sail in him. And, to be fair, as the end of the half drew nigh, I thought we?d finally made their rearguard creak a little as we pushed them further and further onto the defensive, Dobes being particularly unlucky with one effort. This ?Big Push? late-doors augured well for the second half: during the interval we wondered whether the final breakthrough was at hand. Come the restart, Clem came spectacularly close when his effort whanged just over the bar, but the balance of power was gradually shifting in the direction of the visitors. Now The Hammers were coming at us in waves, and as they forced corner after corner, it seemed the writing was well and truly on the wall. With just over twenty minutes remaining on the clock, the visitors had a fair head of steam going by then, and it was during one of these attacks and on the edge of our box that the ball fell to bloody Deane ? and he made no mistake. One nil, Houlty picking the ball out of the back of the net, and no surprise whatsoever registered upon the faces of both ?Im Indoors and myself. Just like the naked onanist in the High Street, you really could see it coming.

You couldn?t, in all fairness, blame our lads for what had happened; two gruelling games in three days is a big ask, and it wasn?t really surprising we lacked sufficient freshness to keep the Londoners from our door. Clearly, the punishing schedule had taken its toll on Scouse Jase, because he immediately went off, to be replaced by Sakiri. And, just seconds after that change, The Hammers almost struck their killer-blow when, in an untypical display of inattention on the part of our finest, Harewood was allowed to get off a piledriver that only narrowly avoided hitting the intended target. From then on in, I was having great difficulty seeing where an Albion equaliser was going to come from, and as Gilly was swapped for Robinson, I said as much to ?Im Indoors. The whole thing was looking very much as though our London-based visitors would reap the whirlwind of our Cup success ? but none of us had reckoned on the ghostly but timely presence of ?Oggie?, one of our leading goalscorers ? only Hulse has done better - to date!

I really have come to the conclusion that the same malign force that governs the mad impulse of some people to stick wet fingers into naked electrical wiring, or go for a walk in the fast lane of the M6, oversees the footballing equivalent of such foolhardy recklessness. How else do I explain what came to pass before my own very eyes just 11 minutes before the end? One minute there was an Albion cross whanging into the Hammers box in front of the Brummie, and their defence seemingly covering it all the way, the next there was an almighty bellow from the groundlings, and our lot grinning manically and congratulating each other hugely! Yep ?Oggie? had struck again, this time in Mullins flavour, and the resultant header, although somewhat embarrassing for the lad, was an absolute gem. Even the King would have dissolved into raptures over it. Thanks for getting us off the hook, mate!

After that (literal) bombshell, a mutually-agreed non-aggression-pact seemed to be the order of the day until the final whistle ended hostilities. Not that I could blame anyone; on the balance of things, The Hammers were unlucky not to be returning to the Smoke with all three points stuffed dahn their capacious trahsers, my san, and we were lucky to get anything at all from the encounter, so settling for the status quo wasn?t such a bad idea after all. Despite dropping the two points, because of other results going for us, we?re still top and we have that Bradford game on Tuesday to (hopefully) make amends. Oh, and as the Dingles are now bottom of the Prem thanks to that 5-2 stonking they had today, all?s pretty much well with the world again. As I said in a previous entry, we really do have a lot to thank ?Oggie? for this season ? now who?s going to be the one to nominate him for Player Of The Year?

And finally?. This one?s serious, folks, and more of a warning to Brummie and Smethwick regulars, really. This evening, a little bird told me that the Football Licensing Authority were at today?s game, and they weren?t best pleased with what they heard from both ends when The Liquidator was played. In fact, when they discovered it to be on the ?play-list? at all, only the fact that it was about to go onto the turntable ? ?pulling? it would have mucked up the remainder of the pre-match schedules, apparently ? saved it from a ban there and then. That?s the gipsy?s warning, folks; if the naughty stuff carries on, Harry Jay and his mob get it ? and it is being monitored, so I?m told. Personally, I don?t have a great deal of love for this body ? their silence was deafening last season, when we were campaigning on behalf of disabled Baggies unable to gain access to the East Stand by way of the Smethwick End gates, meaning they had to somehow make their way around all three sides of the ground ? but their word is law. The bottom line is, if you abuse it, you will lose it. End of message.

 - Glynis Wright

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