The Diary

25 January 2004: An Albion Old Boys' Reunion At Whaddon Road.

Welcome to my ? erm ? ?little bit? once more, and I kick off without further ado by slightly amending the lyrics of that Fiddler?s Dram 1979 one-hit wonder to, ?Didn?t we have a lovely time the day we went to Cheltenham?? No, we didn?t ?have lunch on the way, and all for under a pound, yer know,? and as ?Im Indoors was driving at the time, I could hardly cuddle with him ?on the way back? and ?open a bottle of cider?; the rozzers might well have had something pertinent to say about that one. What we did do, though, was take in a Third division game between the Gloucestershire club and high-flying Hull City, whom we?d seen a couple of weeks previously, at Darlo.

Having agreed to take The Fart in tow down the M5 as well, when we set off the whole Smethwick area was bathed in beautiful sunshine, God was in his heaven, and all was well with the world. And then we encountered a meteorological problem I long ago christened the ?Lickey Bonk Effect?. What is it? No doubt Michael Fish and his jolly chums could couch it in more scientific terms than we ever could, but basically, what happens is this: whatever the weather happens to be doing in your area, take a trip down the southbound carriageway of the M5, and you can bet anything you care to name that the instant you pass the Droitwich radio transmitters, or head on out southwards towards Bromsgrove, the weather will instantly change to something far removed from that which prevailed at the time of leaving. In our case, this meant an almost-instantaneous transformation from the delightfully sunny to the disgustingly damp, and all within the space of around five miles travel. You don?t believe it? Try taking the old jam-jar that way some time, and you?ll see what I mean.

Any road up, sunshine or no, the drone of The Dickmobile soon sent The Fart flying into the arms of Morpheus, and a quick glance at the sleeping beauty snoring away in the rear seat instantly caused an evil glint to enter my eye. Time for my little camera to make an appearance, I thought; the beauty of this particular bit of digital gadgetry is you can take sneaky-beaky pics of, erm, fellow fanzine editors, then totally embarrass them with the results when they least expect it ? and it worked a treat. Sleeping Beauty didn?t realise a thing! While I was plotting my evil-doing, we were approaching the turn-off, about an hour?s drive from the Midlands, so it was time to grab the directions we?d downloaded ? and I have to say they were spot-on. So good, in fact, we arrived at our destination with 90 minutes to spare. A quick pootle around the many Georgian terraces in the area (curiously interspersed with some homes of thirties design) soon brought us to a suitable parking spot, and from there, it was but a five-minute walk to a pleasantly-sunlit Whaddon Road.

Ah, Cheltenham, home to such curiosities as crusty old gin-swilling colonels, constantly chuntering on about tigers they?d bagged in Poona. There is, of course, also GCHQ, which has its home in that fair town. What?s that? Think of the place as being the global equivalent of picking up a tumbler, applying it to a handy wall, then listening in on what the neighbours are up to. In this case, ?the neighbours? can be entire countries, both hostile and friendly to our interests, and the ?tumblers? are some pretty classy surveillance equipment! As we?d arrived with oodles of time to spare and there were no fanzines to flog, of course, we decided to enter their supporters? bar and sample the local refreshments. Even at that early hour, the joint was absolutely jumping, mainly, I suspect, because of the Scarborough-Chelsea Cup-tie being shown on the big screen at the far end of the room, as well as a load of smaller ones sprinkled throughout the bar area. No seats of the conventional kind, so what we did was park our butts on the stage housing the aforementioned big screen, with ?Im Indoors briefly detaching himself to get ?em in.

Cokes, they were, in ?proper glasses?, and once they?d appeared, I decided to sample the cuisine. A pretty good selection to be hand, may I say, including chips, and available from a counter well away from the boozy bits, so no worries about squeezing in with the rest of the mob, either. On the nosh front, I opted for a goodly-sized cheese and onion bap, price ?1.50, but what really surprised me were the goodly portion of nachos thrown in as part of the deal. Were they Doritos? I bloody well hope not. Another surprise? What had to be a personal ?first? as far as footie-ground grub was concerned ? my bap not only contained cheese and onion, cunningly concealed within its delicious innards was a profusion of freshly-chopped chives! Get that in the Brummie? No chance, mate!

Back to the others, then, and while noshing, a chance to take in the surroundings. The big screen, massed watchers included, dominated the scene, of course, but there was much more to the place than that. It wasn?t just home supporters sampling the delights of the place; there were a considerable number of Hull supporters doing likewise as well, their yellow and black stuff making quite a contrast with The Robins? red and white attire. And there was evidence in profusion that this bijou place had other incarnations, seemingly during midweek. To my left was a pool table plus a bar football machine, the sort where you put money in the slot, then twiddle knobs to ? hopefully! - get the players doing what you want, and next to that was a large score-board, seemingly for use during skittles tournaments. Mind you, I did have a surreptitious snigger at the legend atop of it: ?UP THE ROBIN?S!? it proudly proclaimed. Another (mis)use of what I fondly term the ?errant apostrophe?. Aaargh!

Time, then, to reveal unto The Fart what photographic evil doing I?d wreaked upon his slumbering body en-route: tapping his shoulder, I swiftly excavated my camera from its hidey-hole, switched on, then revealed all. The conversation went something like this:

Terry (seeing the ?evidence? for the first time): ?You rotten so-and so, did you take them going to Darlington??

Me: ?Er, no.?

Terry (looking more closely at the pictures): ?Well where?s Martin, then??

Me: ?As far as I know, in Stoke ? I took these about an hour ago while you were asleep??

Perhaps it?s best not to delve too deeply into what The Fart called me once he?d finally realised he?d been ?had?!

While we were there, we also got into conversation with a group of Hull supporters, also partaking of pre-match potations. Apparently, it had taken them around three hours to get there. Not much on the scale of things, you might think, but stay your beating heart a moment, because that wasn?t all. These guys had come from darkest Scarborough, which was ironic, because while we were nattering, we were all keeping a weather-eye on the game currently in progress on the box ? er, Scarborough versus Chelsea! Clearly, whatever transport they?d used to make the journey, that sort of speed couldn?t be legal in a million years! Inevitably, conversation drifted to the events of the Darlo fixture, and this is where coincidence rears its ugly head yet again, folks: not only were our new- found chums at that game also, one of them had actually worked for the Darlo Chairman, George Reynolds, he of the nocturnal (and very noisy) visits to the homes of his critics, plus much, much more. His laconic comment? ?Nasty man.? Says it all, I suppose.

Bidding our chums farewell, we then headed on out for the ground proper. The Fart, no doubt hankering after the days when small boys passed old men sucking on pipes and wearing flat caps with braces over their heads to the front of the terraces ? or was it the other way round? ? opted to view standing up. That option didn?t exist for me, unfortunately, so to a steward we both toddled for advice on where to sit. No sooner had we opened our mouths, he spotted our hats, complete with Albion badge, and said, ?Albion supporters? All the Albion fans, the Bob Taylor Appreciation Society, have been going into this stand, not the visitors? one!?

Sounded fair enough to me, so off we strode in the direction of the entrance. Once in, it was but a short climb to our seats, situated around the halfway line. Whaddon Road must have what is the most scenic view in the whole Football League: not only is the ground surrounded by an abundance of foliage, it?s also in the middle of a small housing estate consequently there?s none of the awful industrial grime associated with more traditional venues. Chuck in for good measure a great view of the Cotswolds, burnished gold by the setting sun, and you have something of rare beauty to behold while you watch the game. And, talking of ?beauty?, brings me to the object of the exercise; watching SuperBob in action. As we took our seats, there he was warming up, so out came my camera once more, and the shutter clicked several times. As we had an idea he was substitute only for that game, I didn?t know whether I?d get another chance to capture him.

And Bob wasn?t the only reason we?d come: as you will all be aware by now, Albion outcast Lee Marshall had just gone on loan to The Tigers, and while there was little prospect of seeing him play a full game, there might just be a chance of seeing him come on as sub. As things turned out, when both team-sheets were read out shortly before kick-off, both our former Baggie lads were on the bench ? but hang on to your hollyhocks, folks, because this story still has to chuck up more twists and turns than an anaconda on Ecstasy.

Finally, we were ?off?, and at first, the whole scenario seemed a repeat of what we?d witnessed at Darlo; a home side, very much under the cosh and needing the points badly, and an away side high-flying, soaking up everything that was thrown at it, then relying on a quick break to grab one. Curiously, Cheltenham?s master-plan seemed to revolve around packing the midfield and the defence and leaving just one striker up front, which explained Bob?s absence from where it mattered. Not only that, the home side played some pretty ?in yer face? style football, gave the visitors little time to settle on the ball ? and The Tigers didn?t like it one little bit. During the course of the half, both sides had their chances; in fact, Cheltenham?s prospects would have looked very rosy indeed had someone been able to capitalise upon some of Jamie Victory?s devastating crosses into the box. Sadly, though, no-one had the presence of mind to be where it mattered and they were totally wasted. It was during this half we learned by text message of a curious event at Bradford; Wally Wallwork had got off the mark for The Bantams! Curious, that; after the game, Radio Five revealed that was his first goal for SIX years! Upon hearing the news, I then wondered if anyone had put money upon him finding the net; if someone had, they were in for a very convivial weekend indeed!

Half-time, then, and another ?blast from the past?. Remember Stuart ?Bruiser? Naylor? Yep, he was at the game also; in fact, he passed by just in front of where we were seated, and ?Im Indoors recognised him instantly. He?s currently employed by Rushden and Diamonds as a goalkeeping coach, but he also does the odd but of scouting as well. As Rushden are in a different division to either side playing today, it led me to speculate as to precisely whom he was running the rule over today. If the first portion had been bloodless, but thoroughly entertaining, the ?second sitting? was to prove rather more incident-packed, controversial, some might say. With around an hour gone, Hull finally caught Cheltenham on the break ? those who saw the Darlo game would have understood instantly ? An Allsopp low drive into the far corner, it was, and the Cheltenham marking was absolutely pathetic. A shame, that, as they?d matched Hull stride for stride until then. And, as if that wasn?t enough, a minute later, the visitors struck again. One second the ball was in the Hull end of the park, the next, they?d engineered yet another breakaway, but totally unopposed this time, and it was simplicity itself for Burgess to plonk the bladder where it counted. And that wasn?t all for The Robins; as Hull were celebrating that one, a furious Tigers keeper was belting from his end of the pitch to near-on the halfway line. Why? He wanted to protest about something. What it was about, I didn?t have a clue at the time, but the ref must have spotted something also, but was unable to dispense summary justice because of that second Hull strike. The result? Cheltenham?s Spencer walked. Looking at the Cheltenham website tonight, it seems the reason for the dismissal was what you might term ?Rob Hulse Syndrome? i.e. ?leading with the elbow?.

That dismissal didn?t half cause The Robins a problem, because of that sending off, they were now completely devoid of fire-power. One up front only, remember? The solution? Send for ?Supes?! On he came, exuding competence from every pore, and having sung the praises of our former striker to the chap seated next to us, we both settled down to see what the ?old master? could do. Not for long, though. Believe it or not, around five minutes later ? I think it might have been his first touch of the ball, actually ? Bob and the Hull keeper both went for what was clearly a fifty-fifty ball, in their box. The result? One crumpled heap on the floor, and the stricken one was our former striker. Naturally, the physio came on, and long minutes passed as he tried to wreak his healing magic on the former Baggie, but Bob was clearly in quite a lot of pain; in fact, I was surprised no-one had asked for a stretcher to be brought onto the pitch. At last, one was, but surprisingly, Bob painfully regained his feet, came back into the fray, but it was clearly to no avail. Exit ?Supes?, right arm clutching his midriff, clearly badly hurt.

We?ve since learned from the Robins? website that the problem was, and I quote: ?A severe blow to the ribs that will probably need an X-ray. He?s in quite a lot of pain and that could be a problem for both him and me.? That was the Cheltenham gaffer speaking, of course. Just as well for Bob, as I?d thought he?d broken something. With his lack of mobility, I?m now wondering how he managed to drive home afterwards. Returning to the game once more, with no Robins striker and one player down anyway, Hull finally decided they could relax, so on went Lee Marshall! Funny, though; when he first got the ball, he got a loud cheer from the away following massed in the seats adjacent to the goal they were defending, then, a few seconds later, he won the ball again, to the sound of yet more vocal approval form their lot! As I pointed out to my other half, in the space of around thirty seconds, Marshall had come in for far more appreciation of what he was doing than he?d ever had in around 18 months at The Hawthorns!

And that was about it. What with the goal and the sending off, plus that injury to Supes, the game had effectively ended as a contest long before the final whistle was blown. The gate? Around 4.5K, which is bucking about 1.5K short of their top whack, of around 6.1K. Even so, I was hard put to spot any gaps anywhere in that ground. Conclusions? Simple. When you?re down and bumping on the muddy bits at the bottom of the pond, life can be a bitch, sometimes. A bit more attention from Lady Luck and Cheltenham might well have been looking at a totally different outcome. Hull? They just carry on doing what they know best ? steamrollering the opposition into submission; as I?ve said before, they really are a microcosm of our current side, and I reckon it can safely be assumed they?ll be playing Second Division footie next time round. After all, today?s win was their sixth on the bounce, so I?m told. And, dare I say it, visiting First Division grounds the season after? They?re highly-ambitious, have a top-notch gaffer, are gradually collecting classy players, a ground that really does them proud, and they have one hell of a catchment area to draw upon for support. Just remember where you heard it first.

And finally?. Yes, there was an Albion presence there, although not as many as I?d thought there would be ? unless you know different, of course! Not only did we spot folkies we knew by sight in the stand, we also bumped into a couple as we made our way back to The Dickmobile afterwards.

Back once more during the week; as things stand, the master-plan is to travel to Morecambe to watch the kids versus Blackburn in the Youth Cup ? that?s on Wednesday evening ? then stay overnight and take in the Imperial War Museum North on our way back the next day. Mind you, if the weather?s as bad as forecast, we won?t even make the attempt, as the game will probably be called off anyway, so booking arrangements are, shall we say, somewhat ?fluid? at the moment! Whatever happens, I can?t for one moment believe the club will be totally static on the incoming transfer front this coming week, so watch this space.

 - Glynis Wright

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