The Diary

12 February 2004: A New Dick's A'Comin'!

Back in the New York Groove (minor hit, circa 1976, just in case you wondered!) once more, and just smokin? to hit them streets on Saturday with a spanking-new Dick (see below for details!). We should have taken delivery tonight, but around five this evening, our mad Welsh printer rang ? no, not plagues of boils, or a five-megaton thermonuclear explosion over the middle of Cardiff this time (although some would consider that an aesthetically-pleasing idea!) ? but something far more mundane than that. No, his son and heir was playing football tonight, and proud (but totally barmy!) Dad wanted to watch the apple of his eye in action. The upshot is we?ll be getting ? erm - ?Dicked? tomorrow evening. Subbers shouldn?t fret, though ? well, not those resident in Blighty, at any rate ? their copies went out today, and should be plopping plumply on your doormats tomorrow morning. As far as those living further afield are concerned, I can?t speed up the existing postal arrangements, sadly, but I?m sure the wait will be well worth it in the end.

Mention of our forthcoming issue having been made, its now timely to announce yet another change in editorial policy. As you all know, around the festive season, we effectively placed a moratorium on mentioning our manager in any context bar that of a neutral one. The reasons why I?ve explained before; hostile elements stirring things up for us, verbal intimidation of sellers outside the ground (and elsewhere) when flogging, and so forth. Unsurprisingly, our change in stance led to a considerable amount of correspondence on the subject; that, plus objections from regular contributors, made us look at the issue once more, and we?ve now decided that objective discussion of our manager, tactics, team-selection, etc. will have a place in our publication after all. Let?s face it, by not allowing responsible, rational and reasonable debate on what?s proving to be a highly-relevant and contentious issue for supporters, we might as well pack up as an independent publication. That word ? ?INDEPENDENT?- is the prime reason we first started, and why the fanzine movement as a whole first came into existence some twenty-odd years ago. To give supporters an avenue to ventilate their legitimate concerns, one relatively free from the sort of hype, distortion and rose-tinted ?everything?s in the garden?s wonderful and lovely; don?t bother your pretty little heads with that sort of rabble-rousing nonsense? claptrap one can get on occasions. In the heat and vituperation generated by the current ?If you?re not with me, you must be against me? type debate, some tended to lose sight of this, which was a great pity. Obviously, should we experience intimidatory tactics of the sort we had before, then we may have to review things again, but, for the moment at least, we?ll just ?suck it and see?.

And, yes, in the current issue, we do mention our manager, but not in the way you might think. No, siree; us Dick Eds sure have been doing our homework, so let me lay this one on you. Lots of Baggies know of Gary?s father, Don, who played for Sheffield Wednesday in the sixties (indeed, both The Fart and myself remember him well), but how many of you have heard of Neil Megson? Or, come to think of it, Arthur Megson, and Alex Megson? Yep, our current gaffer has quite a proud footballing pedigree not many folkies (including us!) knew about, and in your brand new Dick, you can read more! Not a spoof, by the way, all genuine stuff. There?s also a light-hearted look at the first month of the New Year in pictures, plus an ?alternative? view of a Press Conference, as conducted by Gary himself.

After getting all that off my chest, what else was I up to today? After journeying to The Shrine for yet more match tickets ? Norwich this time, and no probs at all; I was the only customer present ? a bit of worrying news came my way. According to BBC Sport, Houlty will be out for a couple of weeks at least with back problems, and if injections don?t work, then it could be a very lengthy lay-off indeed for the lad. Nine months was the figure quoted by The Beeb. Eeeek! A blow, sure, but hopefully, a sucker-punch we can ride with consummate ease, as we have within our ranks the redoubtable ?Murph?, who can justifiably lay claim to being the only Baggie in recent times who saved a penalty at Anfield last season. Apart from Ossie in 1967, and even then, the ref made Liverpool take it again; they made no mistake the second time round. Murph?s also a current Irish international, so it?s hardly a case of chucking a rookie in at the deep end, thank goodness.

Cover? Some folks have suggested Danny Crane, but even with the best will in the world, I don?t think so. I?m sure he?s a nice guy, sees his mum every week, and rescues orphan kittens on a regular basis, but quite honestly, I don?t think he could cut it at our level. As you probably all know, we Dick Eds take in reserve games on a regular basis; earlier in the season, Dan was our keeper for our annual tryst with The Seals, at Vile Park, and to say his performance between the sticks for us was ?memorable? would be an understatement, but unfortunately, for the wrong reasons. We conceded four that night, and, sad to say, at least three of ?em were down to Dan. It wasn?t just that game either; we can readily recall several more when the lad?s performance was not of the standard required. Since the game versus Man U at Altrincham, it?s been youth team keeper Matt Jones, or Murph, sadly. A shame, that, as we?ve both seen Crane make some superb saves on occasions; if only his grasp of the fundamentals would improve, then I?d unhesitatingly recommend him for the understudy?s role. No, I suspect we?re going to have to look for a loan signing for cover, should the worst come to the worst with Houlty, so if anyone out there can think of a suitable candidate, don?t tell me, get on the blower to Jeremy Peace ASAP.

Talking of going to The Shrine, while I was there (well, stood in Halfords Lane, waiting for a bus, actually), I noticed ominous signs the road outside the ground is going to be dug up once more. Some of you may remember the same thing happened last season; after they?d repaired it yet another time (it didn?t surprise me, there was one helluva smell of gas around the vicinity after they?d finished), and once they?d finally sorted out that problem, that was it, I thought. Not so, Joe: today, I espied two blokes in fluorescent jackets, one carrying one of those ?clickometer-wheel? thingies you use to measure distances at school, and the other carrying a spray-pack of bright blue paint. Fatal, of course.

It?ll come as no surprise whatsoever to learn that the first gentleman ran his little bit of ?apparatus? over the precise bit of tarmac their colleagues had dug up precisely twelve months ago, and the second, after noting the measurements, sprayed liberally over the indicated areas; in case you don?t believe me, there?s a welter of bright blue painted lines marking the boundaries of those damned spot(s) right now. Incidentally, while I was there, I had a natter with my old mucker Kate, the lady on the reception desk, just in case you didn?t know, and apparently, she?s just lost one of her felines. The one I knew, as it happened; a few seasons back, Kate moved temporarily into one of the club-owned premises abutting onto the back of the Throstle Club (Ally lived in the other). At the time, the Ticket Office was situated in the Tom Silk, and when there, I got quite used to seeing Kate?s black cat (a very sociable animal indeed, who, like most mogs, loved nothing better then a jolly good stroke and a fuss) strolling regally around the building, imperiously inspecting various nooks and crannies as if she were the club chairman herself. I?m really sorry for Kate, as she loved that moggy no end, so commiserations come from me in heaps. And, if your business should happen to take you near Kate?s desk this Saturday, be even nicer to her than usual, but being the fine upstanding Baggie lot you are, I don?t need to tell you that, do I?

I see the West Bromwich Building Society are stepping down as our shirt sponsors come the end of the current season. This, of course, means we?ll have to find yet another fine and upstanding local or national industry wishing to advertise their wares via the hunky bodies of our finest. This column being what it is, though, a clutch of irreverent thoughts do spring to mind. First off, what about the bakery on the other side of the Brummie Road from the ground taking up arms on our behalf? If anyone?s good at getting in the dough, it?s them. The Baggeridge Brick Company, perhaps? All in the name of constructing good defensive walls, natch. And then there?s The Samaritans ? what excellent short-sponsors they?d make. Why? Because if we stuff up, we?re going to be putting an awful lot of business their way over the close season!

Along with ?Im Indoors, I watched ?Big Fish? on Monday night at the big flicks in Ladywood. Steve The Miser would have been proud of us both; our visit courtesy of a Birmingham Post freebie offer. Well, make that two, actually; thanks to my beloved coming by several more coupons, last night, we watched ?School Of Rock? also, which was hardly Oscar material, but quite amusing for all that. The first of the pair certainly bore director Tim Burton?s stamp, slightly surrealistic, with more than a smidgen of the supernatural chucked in for good measure, and a wonderful ?feelgood? finish to round things off quite nicely. And, not long after the start, and much to my surprise, there was Russell Hoult staring at me from the screen! I?m not that used to seeing one of our players ending up in an American movie, much less one directed by Tim Burton, but there he was, large as life, and twice as bad. Still not convinced? Well, just go and watch the film, then look out for the circus giant. Excessive height, and a predilection for snacking on unsuspecting domestic animals apart (unless Russell has off-duty habits I?m not aware of!), it?s him to a tee. Oh, sod it. Have a look for yourself. click here

And finally?.. In the words of Margaret Thatcher after our troops took South Georgia in 1982, ?Rejoice, rejoice!? On Wednesday night, the Dingles totally blew their nascent comeback by dipping their ?six-pointer? with fellow strugglers Leeds by four lovely goals to one. This has now put our inbred neighbours plumb bottom of the Premiership heap. This column was never an admirer of Leeds United, especially those ?robust?, niggledy and downright argumentative sides Don Revie put out in the early seventies etc., but after that sterling performance of theirs versus the Dingles, they can do no wrong in my eyes! I won?t go as far as crying ?Doomed, Doomed!? in the street outside ? the neighbours would probably have something to say about that idea at this time of night - but that defeat?s certainly given their hopes for survival a bit of a setback. A pleasing outcome, as there are four possible scenarios involving ?us? and ?them? come the end of term. Let me share them with you.

The first? We go up, they go down. Champagne in the Wright household should that happen; the trouble is, should we continue to dip in similar fashion to last Saturday?s little fiasco, there?s a real danger of that pleasing outcome being the least likely of the lot. The second option, of course, is us achieving escape velocity, and ?them? scraping home by the skin of their teeth. Despite the distinctly-unwelcome thought of ?them? remaining in situ like the Premiership version of a suppository, that?s something I can live with quite comfortably, although this would mean us having to play the buggers once more, but under more refined circumstances; between you, me, and the goal-post, I?ve really enjoyed the respite from those games these last couple of seasons, and I don?t fancy yet another trip to The Custard Bowl next term, even at Prem level. Not ?happy returns? at all. The third? They go down, as per the script, but we stay in the Nationwide also. Not nice, but at least having blown it as well, their sorely bruised egos would compensate nicely for our undoubted misery at having blown our own escape attempt in spectacular fashion. The fourth possibility, and, as far as this column?s concerned, the ?worst-case scenario?? The Dingles stay where they are ? and so do we. Only two questions, should that lamentable state of affairs come to pass:

a)When?s the first available long-haul flight out of Brum?

b)Failing that, where?s the chuffing suicide pills?

 - Glynis Wright

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