The Diary

31 December 2003: The Rocky Horror-Show Continues!

Having just got back from a fog-bound and icy Milton Keynes, when I turned on the old PC to write this diary entry, I must say I was somewhat bemused (and, in some cases, hugely amused!) by some of the acerbic and distinctly-volcanic post-match comments I saw whanging about on the mailing-list tonight. Going right for the jugular, they were, and what?s more, none of those comments have emanated from me, or anyone else to do with GD, for that matter. It?s all coming from other people, and all with one thing in common - they?re Baggies to the core, and as angry as hell.

At least all the criticism of tonight?s performance I?m now seeing on-line has removed one hell of a burden from my shoulders; on the way back, I was in something of a dilemma as to whether to get my point across by laying the sarcasm on with a trowel, thickly, or to just let rip and tell it like it really is. I debated the subject loud and long with the rest of The Dick Eds in the car tonight, and the consensus was I ?tell it like it is?, but to choose my words with caution. A sad reflection on this country, as we are, nominally, at least, a country that espouses the concept of freedom of speech, but given some of the unpleasantness that?s been beamed in the direction of this fanzine over the last few months ? the cause being not a million miles away from the person being debated ad nauseam on various Albion-related discussion groups even as I write ? it?s a prudent course to chart, believe you me.

Having said that, anyone who feels suitably constrained to stand up and try to successfully defend the load of absolute garbage I witnessed tonight, and, by inference, the person who wrought it, has, without a doubt, missed their vocation. If they can justify that lot to all-comers, then they should be out in Iraq and pitching for the job of Saddam Hussein?s defence counsel, and not watching football matches in sub-zero temperatures, because that one?s about as much of a non-starter as the one I?m currently on about. It?s interesting, though: all the stuff I?m reading tonight is absolutely crammed full of the very same points I made over and over again at the end of last season, and the beginning of this, the same stuff I was rubbished for ? until the threats, both direct and indirect, began. Not choosing to sample cuisine NHS-style, I then voluntarily became far more circumspect about how I approached certain topics. I?m not going to say, ?I told you so,? to all those people who are now lamenting loudly in cyberspace, because that?s not my style, but it might serve those who are newcomers to this daily piece to read some of it, because it sure as hell ain?t unfamiliar territory to me, although it might be to them.

What was it I said the other day about ?chickens coming home to roost?? Too bloody cold by far for that to literally happen tonight, but what we saw instead was the end-product of a policy that gives all laud and praise to the cult of defence, and leaves the attack and anything resembling a creative midfield to simply go and play with itself as far as the architect of the policy is concerned. Yeah, great; there are positives, we didn?t concede, we got an away point, we?re still up there and pitching, and we?ll soon have our walking wounded and suspended back. Oh ? and we?ll have the temporary respite provided by our Cup game at Forest this weekend. But ? and this is the problem I?m having right now ? there were far, far too many negatives, and we have an awful lot more games against similar sides coming up. We had a situation tonight where a side in the top two was battling it out against a deadbeat outfit holding up the rest of the division, on their turf, and all we had to show for it was a goalless draw. By rights, our midfield should have been geared to attack, to scaring the bejesus out of the buggers, bombarding their danger area with shots on goal, forcing them into setting up camp around their own box, into making crucial errors in the danger-zone, that sort of thing ? but did we? Like hell we did.

What we got instead was an engine-room shit-scared of stepping over the halfway line, in more ways than one. Played properly, the beautiful game is about flair, skill, adventure, above all, creativity, and generally, this sort of footballing philosophy has always been given its head at The Hawthorns, because it?s always been ?the Albion way?. Not any more, it ain?t. As I see it, even Jason Koumas has given up weaving his own brand of individual magic, because he knows precisely what will happen should he choose to do otherwise. Our side is positively gagging for the inclusion from the start of Artim Sakiri, a player who has given even our international side more than a little trouble in the past, but on present form, it simply won?t happen. Why? I leave that one as an exercise for the reader.

Did anyone have even a half-decent game tonight? Even the normally-immaculate Gaardsoe was dragged down to the same sort of woebegone level we plunged to last Friday, and even Houlty?s normally-immaculate kicking and handling looked decidedly dodgy at times. Wallwork bears about as much relationship to a top-flight footballer as I do to Prince Phillip, and going on tonight?s form, The Horse is rapidly looking something of a pig in a poke. Even Big Dave wasn?t looking half the player he can be. What does O?Connor have to do ? or, more pertinently, not! - to be totally left out of the reckoning? OK, AJ had a knock, but why put on a defensive midfielder when there was something a little more constructive idly kicking his heels on the sidelines? Mind you, it doesn?t help either when the forwards are getting little or no service from a midfield who play, seemingly under orders, so deep, there?s little chance of them ever providing any.

Oh, and it?s another indicator of how serious the whole thing has become when I find myself agreeing totally with something Barmy Bobby said on the subject tonight. ?Over-trained, and jaded,? was his somewhat laconic comment on our performance, apparently, and to be honest, I reckon Gouldy was being diplomatic about the whole thing for once in his mentally-disordered life. My God, I never thought I?d ever see the day when I?d concur with that walking fruitcase?s opinion, but I am and I do, one hundred per cent ? plus that little bit more that Gouldy probably would have said, but didn?t because he couldn?t. Work that one out for yourselves.

Just where the hell is the next goal coming from? As I said last night, the last forward to stick one in the back of the net was Dobes, versus Bradford, before the festive season. Hughes, who I thought looked useful and worked hard versus Derby, was taken off, then, presumably, dropped. A big mistake, in my opinion. Hulse, for whatever reason, seems to have gone completely off the boil, although the aforementioned lack of service might well be a significant factor in his apparent total collapse in form. It would be nice to see our strikers doing what they?re paid to do, for once, but with most of our providers currently lacking sufficient confidence to even contemplate entering the ?Here Be Dragons? area that comprises the opposition box, I can?t see any realistic prospect of that happening in the foreseeable future. Can you?

Wimbledon? Despite their club having all the symptoms of terminal decline around it, they had something in abundance that we singularly lacked tonight. Drive, determination to succeed, enthusiasm, craft, sheer guts ? need I go on? What with their passing and movement, and more than a smidgen of the old rough stuff when it mattered, they played us off the park tonight. Yet another reason I find our failure tonight worrying; this is the second time in a few days a side parked in the basement for most of the season has made us look extremely foolish, and it?s looking mighty like the beginning of a worrying trend, not merely a ?blip?. Only two points to show from our festive season games? We are in great danger of going backwards, and at a rate of knots - end of story. According to Radio 5 tonight, there were more scouts then you could have thrown a stick at in that main stand tonight. Why they were there at all, and what they made of the whole thing, I?ll leave open to speculation.

Oh ? and while I can think about them without any more steam coming from my lugholes, there were some good points about tonight, but unfortunately, most of them happened outside the National Hockey Stadium! The pub we fetched up at tonight, for example. Chicago, it was called, and it lurked unobtrusively not that far from the station, but far enough to make finding it difficult, if you see what I mean. An ?upstairs? pub, this was, and crammed chock full of what I?d call US-type ephemera. The place also boasted oodles of TV screens, which were showing recordings of ?that? England-Germany game ? aw, you know, the famous ?5-1? - for our delectation as we walked into the place. They had me fooled all right; at first, I thought that there were banks of four screens, two of which were carrying the game upside-down. Then I realised it was all done, quite literally, with the aid of mirrors! D?oh!

Good to see so many Baggies in the place, though, despite it only being around six in the evening. Lots of yellow and green shirts abounded, also quite a cabal ? Fraser, head-honcho of Sutton Branch, and some of his mates ? all sitting in a broody circle, their heads framed in halo-fashion by the large red circular neon tube that hung over them, and their seats all bounded from the outside by a huge brass ring as well. What with the low-key lighting, their somewhat sombre dress and the fact their circle was a conspiratorial-looking one, it all reminded me of a picture I once saw of the real brains behind the Russian Revolution ? Lenin and Co ? all sitting in similar fashion, and busily plotting the downfall of the Tsar, or something!

A quick drink, and we were away once more to sell fanzines. And, not being able to shout, still, I had no other recourse but to natter enthusiastically to our customers as they approached us for our wares. At first, things were distinctly sluggish. ?Blimey,? said The Noise, ?There?s more people going into Curry?s (just over the road, as it happened) than there is coming into here!?

Things did pick up, though. Some folkies I?d never even spoken to before turned up: it later transpired they were avid readers of this diary. Blimey, I didn?t know my readership extended as far as Milton Keynes! Also in evidence was a certain lad called Nigel Johnson, he of the massed wind-up stunt perpetrated on us by the kids who play for his football team, before the West Ham game. I will say more about this gentleman?s antics later, so bear with me until I do! Although my editorial chums hadn?t spotted it themselves, there was a certain chilling aspect of the away end that stopped me in my tracks, there and then. I ask you, where else would you see what was a dead-ringer for a set of gallows, complete with noose, erected on a wooden platform situated about 30 yards from the turnstiles? All part of Sky?s camera-toting paraphernalia, I discovered later, but come the final whistle, it didn?t stop me speculating as to the real reason for its erection near the touchline in the first place! Rather prescient, because not long after I?d spotted it, it was time to leave all that frivolity behind, and watch the bloody game! AARGH! Where?s that bloody noose?

Returning once more to the subject of our non-performance tonight, let me remind you of a few pertinent facts. Tonight?s gate was around 6,000, about a quarter of whom were Albionites. This level of support, remember, on a gonads-freezingly-cold night, immediately after the festive season and with all the attendant financial implications that can mean, in a stand totally open to the elements, seats costing around ?20, for a game against a side bottom of the table, and which was being broadcast live by Sky in any case. That first half, The Dons ran rings around us, while we repeatedly failed to string three passes together, even. As I recall events, over the first 45, we had around one direct shot on goal that looked remotely dangerous, while the opposition had around four, all of which betokened danger, big-time. The second period was largely notable for the gross errors our performers ? Big Dave, believe it or not, Koumas, Gaarsoe, even - were making in midfield, thereby handing the ball on a plate to the opposition every time. And, yes, we could have conceded very easily from these mistakes as well. Oh, and as far as we poor spectators were concerned, we could have perished from a combination of hypothermia and boredom, so bad was the fare on offer on the pitch, and so exposed was our position in that apology for a stand.

As I see it right now, any pretensions towards us being a promotion-winning side are just that ? pretensions, with no substance whatsoever to them. Norwich have overtaken us, and Sheffield United and Ipswich are hot on our tail. Unless things do buck up, and quickly, the best I can foresee come the end of term is a play-off place, and if our slide continues even further, not even that. It really was that bad tonight, and anyone who was there will readily confirm what I?ve said. I?m not being melodramatic about tonight?s game for the sake of it, it really was that bad, and we?ve got a problem. There are lots of things I would have liked to have said in addition to all the above, but discretion is proving the better part of valour, fortunately. Were I to really let rip, then the libel lawyers would be beating a path to my door in droves, no doubt. Sorry for making tonight?s entry sound a bit like a rant, but that?s the extent of my anger, right now. Perhaps I should sign off, now, and simply leave it at that. Tomorrow?s another day.

And finally?. There was some humour to be extracted from tonight?s farcical antics. Remember I said Nigel Johnson was at the ground? Well, he should have come accompanied by his two daughters tonight, but he wasn?t. The reason? They were both grounded, for what a referee might term ?persistent misbehaviour?, on the morning and afternoon prior to the game. Now hang on, Nige, haven?t you got this slightly wrong, here? In view of the complete dross we subsequently watched, the real punishment would have been to MAKE them watch the blasted thing, not keep them away from it!

 - Glynis Wright

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