The Diary

09 May 2005: That Albion Sunday Cliff-Hanger - The Plot Thickens!

It?s now been a whole day since that amazing Old Trafford let-off, and, just like around 99 per cent of Baggies at this precise moment, I?m still desperately trying to work out whether my relegation-avoidance cup?s half-empty, or half-full. And it?s not all that easy, either, Cup half empty? Here?s the evidence for the prosecution. We finished up just the width of a goalpost from the drop last night ? somebody up there must really like us; perhaps it?s our constant singing of ?The Lord?s My Shepherd? or something? ? but by doing do, have we simply postponed the inevitable? As I?ve said before, it?s all the hope I can?t stand.

It?s a bit like people suffering from advanced cancer ? they know in their heart of hearts their chances of making it to the next due General Election date are painfully slender, but they still go for all the radio and chemotherapy their quacks can shovel into them, awful side-effects or none. Survival instinct, I suppose, but still painfully postponing the day when what?s going to happen anyway finally gets you. Returning from the deadly-serious world of cancer care to the totally-trivial one of football once more, you only need just a quick look in the cold, harsh light of day at what obstacles we have to surmount next Sunday to give even those wearing the rosiest of spectacles serious cause for doubt

First of all, we have to overcome Pompey; a draw?s of sod-all use to us. Preferably, those life-saving three points would have to come garnished with a liberal sprinkling of Pompey defensive perforations in their own goalmouth as well. Because of the ?goal-difference? rule, grabbing just one, or two, even, wouldn?t maximise our chances to their fullest extent. In short, we?ve got to go for it; let?s just hope that unlike similar home ?must-wins? over the earlier part of the season just gone, our strikers can come up with the biz, and give the South Coast side a right royal roasting.

And even then, that might not be enough; as I understand it, subject to the provisos mentioned below, unless we can deliver a cricket score on the day, we?re stuffed. It?s all a bit complicated, really; either Norwich have to win at Fulham (no easy task at Craven Cottage, as we learned for ourselves fairly recently), or Saints have to beat Man U, or Palace have to win at Charlton. The Addicks are lamentably bad at present, and never quite delivered on the promise they showed earlier in the season - but this is a South London derby relegation decider, remember? Hopefully, they'll at least have a bit of pride to play for come next Sunday. Southampton will be minus Peter Crouch, the walking lamp-post, whose skills constantly seem to be badly under-estimated by opponents, and they?ll be entertaining Fergie?s lot. Let?s hope he doesn?t show a similar amount of magnanimity (or plain good luck) to them as we got yesterday. Norwich? They haven't won away all season, and I don?t particularly want them to start next Sunday, either. The bottom line is this: if we beat Portsmouth and none of the other three win, we're safe. No doubt there will be portable radios in abundance in all four stands on the day.

Now here?s a horrible thought. We play out of our skins next week, we cruise to a well-deserved home win over Pompey, the final whistle goes, time stands still as we nervously await those final scores from elsewhere ? only to find some jammy sod has banged in a winner in the 90th minute, or crueller still, deep in injury time. Or, under highly-debatable circumstances, as per yesterday, perhaps. To go in such an unthinkable manner would be a bitter pill indeed for some to swallow, myself included. You hear of it happening to other clubs, sometimes, and when you do, you idly speculate on what your reaction would be were the same set of circumstances to prevail at The Shrine, but it?s like reflecting upon your chances of snuffing it in a plane crash, or getting run over by a bus ? until the day your number?s actually up, you rationalise the risk by assuming it can never happen to you.

Cup half full? As I?ve already mentioned, luck was very much on our side yesterday, with much assistance, not to mention grateful thanks, to the undoubted heroics of ?The Pole In Goal?, as some of our travelling wags chose to dub Mr. Kuszcak, at the time. And then there was the penalty, of course. Sure, when it was awarded, I laughed like a bloody drain, mostly because of the simple fact even a parks ref wouldn?t have been conned by our equine striker?s gravity-loving exertions; penalties aplenty have I witnessed over the decades, but never one so risible as yesterday?s. And at Old Trafford? Normally, it takes the home defender performing a full length leg amputation on an opponent before a referee will risk giving anything to visitors, never mind a bit of amateur dramatics that would have had the late Sir Laurence Olivier applauding wildly, had he been a lover of the beautiful game back then. Oh ? and I still haven?t ascertained the last time a visiting League side was awarded one there. Anyone out there know?

Having said that, when I got around to seeing the incident on TV, maybe, just maybe, I?ll concede The Horse wasn?t trying to pull a flanker, but it really was a close call. Come to think about it, when I watched again, I thought Kanu?s claim to similar treatment much the more valid of the two. But that?s my point ? there eventually comes a time where you can only go with the best you?ve got available, and should that prove not be enough to stem the flow, then a little bit of divine assistance isn?t going to go amiss either. Yesterday, we were given that commodity, and in abundance, for once.

And there?s another important consideration when assessing the amount of liquid in your personal Baggies cup; when you look more closely at what?s happened over the latter part of this season, our form hasn?t been at all disastrous. We?ve notched up a couple of useful wins, the best being those over Champions League hopefuls Everton (home), and former European aspirants Charlton (away, by an amazing FOUR goals). Not exactly the hallmark of a side bound for the rubbish-sack, is it? And than there?s the astonishing quantum-leap in terms of Premiership class we?ve undergone since the arrival of Albion?s favourite son at the helm. Take the win versus The Toffees I mentioned, for example; no fluke, that one, what we got was richly deserved, and, more importantly, on the day, we carried no passengers whatsoever.

Let?s not do ourselves down, here ? because of Robbo, and Nige Pearson?s canny input, plus several judicious tweaks to the side, we now have one truly deserving of Premiership status. It?s a big ask next Sunday, an enormous one, in fact, but going by what I?ve seen of our favourite football team these past few months, out there, we genuinely have the experience and talent to fully capitalise from any breaks we do get; it?s largely down to what those of another generation used to call ?head-ology?, and what Big Dave would term ?belief? As he said to me two years ago, if you can truly believe in yourself, your strengths, weaknesses, capabilities, you can achieve absolutely anything you want.

Yesterday?s performance provided ample proof of that; when the chips are down, when you?ve been playing like a sack of spuds for the whole of the first half, not doing yourselves full justice and arguably falling behind as a result, you can still summon up the will from somewhere to grab one fleeting chance to save your skin ? and take it with gratitude. As I pointed out yesterday, getting a penalty at Old Trafford is a feat in itself alone, never mind actually going on to bury the bugger, weather the attacking storm that follows, then go on to cheekily grab that lovely point that?s keeping us afloat right now.

Can we do it? It?s largely out of our hands, sure, but given the breaks, and, possibly, Pompey?s not-so-hidden desire to do unspeakable things to their South Coast rivals, anything?s possible. There were some aspects of yesterday?s game ? the penalty, and Earnie?s slow, calm walk to the spot before blasting it in; the United effort that having completely evaded our keeper?s desperate clutches, then headed directly for a goalmouth completely bereft of either Mancs or defensive Baggies, but instead of going in, somehow managed to plough a very lonely furrow indeed about six-inches parallel to our goal-line, before finally going out of play several yards further on from the near post ? that incident alone had me speculating long and hard on the hypothesis that with luck like that, we simply had to stay up. Just like 2001-02, Bradford, that Igor Balis goal, and the marvellous feeling that goes with the dawning of realisation afterwards that this is truly going to be your year, at long last. We?re all told history never repeats itself, but it can sure as hell come close, on occasions. Especially now.

And there?s another consideration ? failure next weekend, perish the thought, and its horrendous implications for our club. This is a topic I touched on briefly last week; should we drop, then we can automatically say ?Goodbye-ee!? to the likes of Gera and Earnie, and one or two more, no doubt. And the more I think about the gloomy prospect of having to ?get rid? in the summer should we come to blow it, the angrier I become. At the moment, we stand on the brink of possessing one of our most effective and cohesive sides in a long time; stay up, and we can use what we have now as the basis for further progress next season. Even without spending money in the summer, I?m willing to bet anything that what we?re relying on now has the undoubted ability to finish in a cosy mid-table position come the end of next term.

The evidence? Easy: just think back over the last nine or so months, and the number of games where, by rights, we should have come away with the full ration, but blew it completely instead over the course of the dying minutes and seconds. Remember Fulham, at their place? Bolton, ditto? Blackburn, ditto? Pompey, and Southampton, both away fixtures? And, at home, Palace? Middlesbrough, and that awful Kanu miss in the dying seconds? Had we possessed even a modicum more defensive steel back then, and a much bolder game-plan, a ?comfort-zone? Premiership existence would have been ours by now, not another bloody relegation struggle.

Get relegated, and for reasons associated with the factors I mentioned above, the side we currently have will be no more. All that bloody hard work, all those hard-won points pulled from the fire - and for what? For several weeks, now, we?ve been acutely aware of the interest other Premiership outfits ? those enjoying relatively higher standings in the table, right now ? in our Hungarian part-time goalmouth gymnast, for example. Zoltan constantly states he?s quite happy at The Shrine right now, and won?t forsake us for others because of that, but as I?ve said before, everyone?s got their price, haven?t they? Human nature, really; more depressingly, the trend shows absolutely no signs whatsoever of being bucked in the near future. Lose several key members from the squad, and you then have to look towards rebuilding work, either by using your own fringe people, or spending serious amounts of dosh on a youth side, and/or junior set-up commensurate with the overall standard you aspire to.

Turning one?s attention away from our current parlous plight for a moment, how many of you out there managed to watch Wigan?s home promotion-clinching game? As far as I was concerned, for the first half at least, it was one of those games where the home side played well and truly out of their skin on the day, and scoring three goals for their pains. One of the opening two was an absolute stunner, and guess who the scorer was? Yep ? a lad called Jason Roberts, who effectively sealed their promotion with a superb effort that involved him shimmying and jinking twice in the box to evade his markers, then letting fly between the pair of them. Superb stuff, and just goes to show that not all clubs in the lower divisions want to do it the rough way. Mind you, churlish though it would be to poop on their party right now, it?s from here on in that the funny stuff starts.

Even before the fixture list comes out, their board will no doubt be looking for ways of strengthening their side ?on the cheap?. Then there?s also the depressing thought of all the bean-counter types there breeding like randy fruit-flies, thirsting to ?maximise opportunities?, ?improve revenue streams?, and all the rest of the pernicious commerio-babble nonsense. Then there?s the almighty shock their supporters will get when they come to visit other sides there, and the hopeless task of securing a second mortgage to pay for it all. And, just to make them feel truly at home, I daresay that before very long of next season elapses, there?ll be a few penalty shouts turned down here, an unjustified sending-off there ? aw, you know the script by heart by now. How long, I wonder, before disillusionment sets in for them?

Another vagrant thought, though ? anyone else notice how good Jason Roberts really was that frenetic first half? I shall follow his Premiership progress with interest next season. And that prompts yet another thought; had Jason hung on in there just a few months more, I?m sure he would have found our current manager?s views on how the game should be played a damn sight better than those of his predecessor.

Back next Friday or Saturday night, so until then, hang loose. But before I depart, yet more from my ?And Finally? section!

And Finally??One. As we headed on out for the Manchester suburbs yesterday evening, we noted the appearance of a stretch limo, that subsequently passed us by. No shock there, one sees those things on a regular basis nowadays, but what did make this one special was the Albion scarf fluttering madly from one of its windows! Anyone out there know the identity of the person inside, or was the mystery person themselves? Go on, you know you want to ? and by doing so, putting this column right out of its misery!

Two. During the course of our various chuggings the length and breadth of this country of ours, we?ve begun to note, of late, an astonishing proliferation of those truck trailers bearing advertising slogans, the ones parked up on bits of farm land adjoining the hard shoulder. Totally illegal, actually, but I guess the traffic police have bigger fish to fry these days ? like motorists doing 5 mph over the going rate, for example. And, it was while I was idly gazing at one of those monstrosities parked up in some field or other, I hit upon a rather spiffing wheeze.

Suppose that one day, one or other of our local rivals were playing in some prestigious game, or other? Galling at the best of times, I know ? but there is a way of turning the whole thing around by extracting the Michael very successfully, and this is it. Why not get a suitably-large piece of pithy prose made, attach it to a trailer, then park the whole shebang right along the motorway route you know they?ll have to take both there and back? As for the precise wording of the message ? well, I?ll have to leave that bit to your all-too vivid imaginations, won?t I!

 - Glynis Wright

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