The Diary

17 February 2004: Toffee Men Chewed Up, Spat Out!

Back hotfoot from Kiddy, and our reserve game there. No, I tell a slight porky there, we returned by way of ?Im Indoors?s mum?s place, and a lovely story about what a cock-up this luvverly government of ours have made of the new arrangements for paying old age pensioners ? that?s ?old farts? to me and you ? their weekly pittance, but that?s not the subject of tonight?s thrilling instalment; what we?re going on with now is our performance versus Everton?s reserves at Aggborough, so without further ado, I?ll launch into that instead.

Although this season?s location for our second-string home games is a tad difficult to get to if you possess no transport of your own, it doesn?t seem to have cramped the style of our ?regulars? that much. As we rolled onto the car park adjacent to the ground about 20 minutes before the start, there were many familiar faces to be seen. As we went through the turnstiles, there was one notable absentee, though, and that was the catering, would you believe? I?ve waxed lyrical upon Kiddy?s footie-fare many times before, and to find their little hut closed and firmly shuttered was, to put not too fine a point on it, a disappointment of the first order. What the hell was going on?

Still, no use ?moaning our bag off about it? ? that?s The Noise?s fave expression of dismay, by the way ? instead, we made our way to the main stand, and the bit where Baggies usually gather in numbers. We didn?t have to wait too long for company; within a matter of minutes, we were joined by Steve The Miser plus trainee-tightwad son David, and, not long after that, our old mucker Tim, he of the twin Albion flags proudly flying at the front of his house for all the world to see. As for our side versus Everton, as I?d predicted in yesterday?s offering, it was certainly leavened with more than a sprinkling of seasoned pros. Try this little lot for size: Pressman, Chambo J. N?Dour, O?Connor, Berthe, Volmer, Chambo A. Gilly, Skoubo, Facey and Dyer! No Hulse, though, even though the reason for his recent absences from the first-team line up was suspension and not injury. Hmmmm. Oh, and one other little snippet given to me just before the start; despite the considerable travelling distance between Merseyside and darkest Kiddy, and the inconvenience of the start-time, there was Toffees? head-honcho David Moyes in the stand, large as life, and, at half time, genially signing autographs left, right and centre ? there were a pretty goodly number of their followers in the crowd, which surprised me a little, I must confess. As for our management, I was told ?Frank? was lurking around somewhere ?or maybe it was his cap, which, more and more, seems to be an extension of his personality! ? but of our illustrious leader, not a sausage, unless you counted the ones sizzling somewhat belatedly in the catering hut!

Which reminds me: not long after we kicked off, another bit of good news; the catering wasn?t kaput after all; it seemed it had fallen victim to late arrival of their staff or something, because it was now going full-blast, so with the game not exactly increasing my pulse-rate to any great degree, I decided to indulge to the tune of a hot dog and a hot chocolate. Lovely grub, all of it, but when I got back to my seat, I suddenly realised I?d overdone the mustard a little bit. On the way back, it had somehow oozed out of the bun and splattered my jeans something rotten, and what with that and the large quantity of hot drink I managed to spill there as well, within about 20 minutes of having sat down, my strides began to closely resemble one of those ?action paintings? that used to be in vogue around the late 60?s; all splishes and sploshes of brightly-coloured paint daubed manically all over the canvas. Hilarious for ?Im Indoors, but not so good for me; it was a cold night, and soaking trousers don?t do a lot for my ability to withstand hypothermia.

The game? Oh, yes. Sorry. Not really anything to write home about for either side for the first 45, Lloyd Dyer?s skills apart, and I genuinely believe Pressman didn?t have to do a blind thing the entire half. Come the second, though, things began to brighten up considerably. I suppose you can put it down to Dyer to a large degree. During the first period, he?d been playing in his normal left-wing slot, impressed there, but had been kept pretty quiet by the opposition, but come the second, he inexplicably moved over to the right ? where he was equally quiet. Then, he swapped sides again ? and that was when the fun really started. Come the 58th minute, we made what was, thus far, our most threatening move of the game; Facey was put clear, unmarked, with only the keeper to beat, and not a Toffeeman within chewing-distance, but instead of busting the net with the shot, he managed to hit the side netting instead. Don?t ask me how; it really was easier to put it over the line! Trust me, I?m a fanzine editor.

That cock-up, ghastly though it was, only served to postpone Everton?s eventual demise; 20 minutes before the end, Lloyd Dyer was principally involved in a lovely flurry of passing and movement that would have surely earned him plaudits from the great Bobby Hope himself. Or Bill Shankly, even; after all, it was Everton on the receiving end. The ball then crossed to the right, Facey pounced on the far post, his effort hit the woodwork but rebounded back again, and N?Dour was on hand to pot the black, one-nil, no messing. I just wished someone had been there with a video camera to record that series of moves for posterity; truly football as it should be played, ?clothed in samite, mystic, wonderful?, as they say in the movies.

You might have thought that the opposition would have raised their game at that point, but nope, they didn?t. Poor Pressman was pretty much a spectator for most of the half; one well-palmed effort apart, he might have well brought a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of pop with him to consume at leisure ? but it didn?t stay that way, and of that, more later.

Come about 15 minutes from the end, Gilly was presented with a cast-iron, copper-bottomed chance to sew the whole thing up; clear on goal, and with the advancing keeper seemingly beaten hands-down, our hero blasted away ? only to see his effort soar right over the roof of the stand and into the car-park behind! The ref clearly thought that something or someone Evertonian had interrupted the flight of the ball on its short journey from the end of Gilly?s boot towards its intended target, because immediately after that, the ?man in black? indicated a corner-kick! A complete mystery to me, that decision; as far as I could see ? and I was in a good position to do so - only Gilly?s gravity-defying efforts sent the ball on its upwardly-mobile journey.

About 10 minutes before the end, Lloyd was taken off ? well, he does need to conserve his strength and Billy Whizz-type speed for Warnock?s lot, doesn?t he? ? and a lad called Craig Morton replaced him. A bit of an enigma, that one, because, enquire as we might, no-one in our immediate vicinity ? and there were quite a gathering of pretty knowledgeable Baggie-folkies around us ? seemed to know who the hell he was! A triallist, perhaps? All suggestions gratefully received. After that, Everton did try to up the tempo a little, and come the last five, resident OAP Pressman had to earn his corn with quite a decent little save. Trouble was, they?d left it too late, and despite that somewhat-belated flurry of theirs, we won the day. That?s three wins on the bounce for the stiffs, now ? at this rate, they?ll be getting a nosebleed!

Back to The Dickmobile, then, thankfully still possessive of a full set of wheels and a radio, despite the influx of all those Merseysiders into the ground, and once on the road, I decided to ring The Noise to let him know the final score. And once I had, I almost wished I hadn?t, because he had some information of his own to impart: Murph hadn?t been able to join the Irish squad today because of a back problem sustained on Saturday. Apparently ? The Noise?s teenage sprog Carly spotted it ? Murph stretched to get one really awkward ball, but when he came down again, a look of pure agony crossed his face, and this was picked up by the TV cameras and shown via the big screen. Fair play to Pressman with all that experience tucked under his more-than-ample belt, and all that, but I?d be much happier with what I know come the weekend and its many trials and tribulations! Let?s hope that these alarums and excursions are of a precautionary nature only; it really would be a particularly vicious application of Sods Law to see us lose one keeper through injury, then have similar happen to his perfectly-capable understudy within a matter of days!

That?s our reserve outing taken care of, then. Now, on to another matter that was brought to my attention earlier today; some might not agree, but I feel that what I?m about to impart is of paramount importance to all Baggies supporters. But, it?s up to you what to make of it; I?ll just tell you what I know, and leave you to decide. I?m just the messenger, after all?s said and done. Shoot me if you want; just don?t do it on my doorstep, the blood?ll make too much of a mess.

What it?s all about is this. Today, I received an email from someone informing me that as of the start of next season, no representatives of the club, be it players, backroom staff or directors, would be going to outlying Supporters Club branch meetings any more. In future, any functions of that nature will be confined to the Platinum Suite at the parent football club only. This isn?t a betrayal of secrets, by the way; the decision was imparted to my correspondent quite openly, and has been circulated among the membership accordingly.

To my mind, this is going to sound the death-knell for quite a few Supporters? Club Branches, who do depend to a large extent on attracting guests from the club to their functions. This would be a crying shame, in my opinion; although much fewer in numbers attending than the parent main branch, paradoxically, this makes for a ?plus-point? for those who do turn up for these meetings. The result is that the whole thing generally turns from a formal talk into more of a friendly conversation with like-minded people over a relaxing drink or two. Very often, the upshot of all this is that supporters suddenly see their favourites (or not-so-favourites!) cast in a completely different light than the one they usually show to their public on the field of play. This generally results in benefits for both sides; it?s awfully difficult to ?bad-mouth? someone you?ve enjoyed a quiet natter and a drink with two or three days previously. Conversely, engaging with supporters on that sort of intimate basis gives the player the chance to put a bit of positive ?spin? on his image also. This can amass him a considerable number of ?brownie points? should he hit a bad patch of form in the future.

There?s also another consideration to take into account, and its probably one those who thought up this embargo never contemplated for one minute ? and why should they, because consulting supporters seems to be the last thing that enters the minds of club officials these days. What I?m on about here is just how much the parent football club stands to lose in terms of goodwill with its loyal followers. Albion have always enjoyed a pretty good reputation on that front, and it always seemed to knock the efforts of all the other Midlands clubs pretty much into a cocked hat, but that was ?then?. Indeed, I was telling someone tonight about the time we went to a Staffordshire branch meeting where former Chairman Tony Hale was the guest; come the interval, I popped downstairs to get the drinks in, and as I went to the bar, I encountered one of the Villa persuasion propping up the counter. Seeing my Albion shirt, he first indulged in the mother of all sniggers, then asked me what was going on upstairs ? so I told him. And, rounding on him at the end, said, ?When was the last time Doug Ellis turned out for a supporters club meeting like that, then?? There was no answer, because there simply wasn?t one to give!

The truth is, there formerly existed something of a symbiotic relationship between our players, back-room staff and supporters; in other words, there was always a very close association between them all, and everyone derived considerable benefit from it. Albion were universally known to be a ?big happy family?, not a faceless body, only interested in how much cash they could extract from the wallets of punters; in fact, many followers of opposing clubs looked at what we had and envied it greatly. Now that players etc. are no longer allowed to mix with supporters at these functions, this will result in the divide between the differing worlds of both becoming an almighty chasm. Both parties will become unknowing and unknowable; sure the process had already begun by virtue of the greatly-increasing disparity in earnings and lifestyles which became really apparent over these last ten or so years, but this latest diktat will only serve to accelerate the process to near-light velocity.

I suspect that if the truth were to be known, quite a few of our players would raise no objections whatsoever to attending these functions. Many of them are quite intelligent and articulate speakers, and have sufficient maturity and common-sense not to betray confidences best left confined to the interior of the dressing-room. In its own way, the embargo can also be interpreted as club management showing a distinct lack of trust in their players to act sensibly, but that?s not what grieves me the most about this lamentable affair. Again, it?s probably something those who thought up this crazy idea never even contemplated when they came up with the plan, and it?s this. Sure, the good times have returned to the club once more, and, more likely than not, we?ll be heading back to the big league come the end of the current season, and from there on in, it?s largely up to us to make a good fist of it this time round. But after that? As the old saying goes, ?what goes up must come down?; not only that, what with football?s finances being in such a volatile state at the moment, who?s to say that our relatively stable financial situation will stay ever thus in the long term?

Should our fortunes ever take a turn for the worse (and don?t think it couldn?t happen; the history of the game is riddled with stories of bigger outfits than ours who have come to financial grief), then suddenly, our football club might well belatedly realise they might need considerable assistance and goodwill from those brutish types in the cheap seats after all. And, if the process has been a distinctly one-way thing, then I?m afraid the club is going to find its ?goodwill? account very much on the ?debit? side. And it?s no good crying ?foul? to the men in suits; they?ll be long gone, balance-sheets, calculators and all, headed for a ?better ?ole?. The moral of the story? As Joni Mitchell once sang in ?Big Yellow Taxi?, ?Don?t it always seem to go/That you don?t know what you?ve got ?til it?s gone?? Just don?t say you haven?t been told.

And finally?.. The opposition being Everton, someone had to say it eventually. When we wondered why there was a distinct lack of stewards inside the ground tonight, Steve The Miser answered, without any hesitation, ?Because they?re all outside, guarding the cars on the car-park from all the scallies, that?s why!?

 - Glynis Wright

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