The Diary

15 October 2003: A Blip, Or Not A Blip? That Is The Question.

Since our somewhat-deflating loss versus The Blades, unsurprisingly, there?s been quite a lot of post-match discussion (and vituperation, aimed at certain players) whanging around cyberspace, some of it constructive and illuminating, some quite the opposite. That?s football, I suppose; every person present last night will have their own unique take on events, and vent their spleen in a variety of ways, the internet included, which is great, because such discussions are all about opinions, provided they are constructively argued. Some have totally pushed my buttons on the subject, while others most definitely have not. Of those whose opinions I have read and digested, I reckon my old friend Anc quite perfectly summed up my feelings on the matter when he said in his post to the mailing-list, ?I just wish he?d get the team to play in a fashion that doesn?t leave me confused when we win, and bloody annoyed when we lose?? Amen to that, Vicar, I say. I?m also left wondering precisely what new dog in the pound Paul Robinson, watching from the stands, thought of the whole affair? As I understand it, he?s a full back that does precisely what it says on the tin, and none of this belting upfield with the ball like a hare on amphetamines nonsense. Someone postulated ?Heaven forfend! ? that our leader might be thinking in terms of a complete transmogrification of our formation to accommodate such eccentricities, which would certainly go a long way towards explaining why we signed the bloke in the first place.

I still feel that, overall, the changes Meggo made during the interval were sound ones. Quite brave, as well, considering the Edict From Above, writ large upon tablets of stone, of course, is: Thou Shalt Not Have Any Formation At This Club Bar A Defensive One. (And Watch Out For Stray Bolts Of Lightning Where The Sun Don?t Shine Should You Dare Deviate From My Great Plan!) We were two down and chasing the game, so we had very little to lose by playing it that way. What did worry me in retrospect was the disappointing performances from some who should have revelled in this sort of encounter. Rob Hulse was, one narrowly-wide effort aside, largely ineffective. Jason Koumas was invisible, to all intents and purposes, and James O?Connor just didn?t seem to be in the game at all. Clem? What an enigma we have, there. Agreed, doing a full-back sort of thing one minute, then being expected to lollop down the flank with the ball at one?s feet a moment later can?t be much fun, but it would help enormously if some of those bloody crosses actually found the target once in a while, and lobbed, not from near-on the halfway line either, but a tad nearer the corner-flag instead. As for Big Bertha, sure, he may have been at fault for their first, but overall, I thought he put in a creditable performance. Trouble is, once you screw up in a Megson side, it?s bloody hard to redeem yourself again. Just ask Udeze ? one lapse ? admittedly stupid - at St. Mary?s last season, and he was totally beyond the pale for evermore. For me, Bernt Hass was the only feeble flicker of a glow to be seen on a night when just about every other Albion player present was all smoke and very little in the way of fire, and for that, he gets my accolade.

One other thought. Is this just a blip, or should we be genuinely worried? The evidence for the prosecution is that earlier this term, we also failed miserably against Wigan, currently above us in the pecking-order. It has to be said, though, that the circumstances leading to that loss were quite different; at the JJB, by going for a formation totally selected with defence in mind, we lost the plot, and, to his credit, our leader admitted this was so the following day. Last night, we went behind to a couple of sucker-punches, aided and abetted by an outfit that was totally-committed to the task in hand, and played with the same sort of blood-and-guts spirit we displayed during our promotion season. You could say, in fact, that Warnock?s Sheffield United completely out-Megson-ed us! Our tactics were fundamentally sound, but our attitude and commitment was definitely not. Following such emphatic defeats, this term, at least, we?ve always managed to bounce straight back, and my hope is we?ll do precisely that versus Norwich this weekend, although the task won?t be all that easy. I learn as I write that they drew with West Ham tonight, so that means we?re still third, behind Wigan, who have played a game more. It would seem they?re becoming a bit of a sod to beat all-round; apparently, they managed to get a point at Wigan recently, which is something we didn?t, of course. What does really concern me, though, is the fact that in around three weeks time, we play The Hammers at their place, the return fixture being just two weeks after that. If we can get something from the away leg, followed by a Hawthorns victory, then I would have to say that overall, our promotion credentials were looking pretty sound ? let?s face it, with a squad like ours, failure to finish in at least the top six would be something of an embarrassment, to say the least! ? but should we be found wanting on both occasions, then I?d really start to press some panic-buttons.

Incidentally, you might be interested to know that Blades supporters fear us, West Ham, Sunderland, and nobody else. How do I know? Diary-reader Steve Sant tells me so, primarily because he was a ?knight in shining armour? to a couple of ?em last night, and chatted at length! Apparently, they were all concerned at one-nil that we?d grab an equaliser, and then go on to nick the lead, and the game. I have to say, they might have a point about who will be serious contenders come the April/May crunch; already, the gap between the top six and the rest of the pack is widening, and come the festive season, it could well be a gaping chasm. More disturbing, though, was Steve?s detailed account of what happened outside Apollo 2000, post-match. Steve had already been pre-warned by text, but the first real intimation of trouble came when two Blades shot past him in the direction of the motorway island, hotly pursued by three so-called Albion supporters. A little further on, he saw the same United guys clearly lost, and desperately seeking a landmark by which to locate their car. Our hero offered to help, and they then explained they?d come out of the ground, headed for Middlemore Lane with around 20 of their comrades, and had reached the electrical-goods store, when 10 or so Albionites started throwing punches, some of which found their targets. Naturally, they ran like hell, and luckily for them, they managed to elude their pursuers on the motorway island, which is where Steve came in! A quick tootle around the area revealed they?d parked up near the main library, which is quite some distance from The Shrine ? about 2 miles, I reckon! It transpired they?d exited at the wrong junction of the M5, the Oldbury one, and things just went downwards from there, it would seem. Apparently, that nice Mr. Sant then sent ?em packing with a copy of The Dick, and a suggestion they purchase a decent road-map next time!

And finally?.. One. More on the theme of pet spiders. Thanks ? er, I think ? for the note from Chris Perry, who tells me his wife has no less than three pet arachnids gracing their home, and they?re all tarantulas! Eek! And, yes, they all have names; how does Wilma, Charlie, and She-lob grab you? The first is thus-named because of the Flintstones, the second as per the book ?Charlotte?s Web?, and the third? Easy if you?ve read ?Lord Of The Rings!?; the creature is Gollum?s mate, and you?ll see her in the third film. You might think anyone wanting to keep tarantulas as pets is rather ? erm ? ?different? anyway, but what concerns me more is the statement from Chris about James O?Connor really being Frodo Baggins in disguise, and what his wife would like to do to Neil Clement and Phil Gilchrist should they ever be incautious enough to be invited to a dinner-party at their place! Where are The Satanic Nurses when you really need ?em?

Two?.Just when you thought it was time to get out the old sackcloth-and-ashes from the wardrobe after last night?s dismal performance, allow me to demonstrate that failure is relative, really. Just talk to Cheltenham Town supporters, who are getting pretty hot under the collar right now about the many failings of a gentleman with whom Albion supporters are all-too familiar. Who? That?s right, Mr. Bobby Gould, late of our favourite football club, now gaffer of the Gloucestershire outfit, who are currently deep in the doo-doo, thanks to the managerial ineptitude of the former. According to their thoroughly-brassed-off faithful, they?ve now conceded 29 goals in 13 league games, and that pans out to a rate of 2.23 goals per game against, the worst in the entire Football League, as I understand it. As they so forcefully said on their website, Conference football looms unless someone acts now. Last weekend?s 3-1 defeat at Boston was the cotton-pickin? limit, apparently, and the cry of ?GOULD OUT!? is now ringing out loud and long around Whaddon Road. We know a song about that, don?t we, children? The thought occurs to me that should they require some extra lung-power in their quest to reunite Mr. Gould with his P45, they could do worse than contact our fanzine with the intention of touting for Hawthorns custom. Pitch demonstrations a speciality, of course. Now where did our lot put that bloody coffin after Shrewsbury?

 - Glynis Wright

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