West Bromwich, 15 November, 2008


Off, then, to West Bromwich to see their inevitable defeat to Chelsea.
It's the evening kick off on the coldest day of the season and to celebrate, my woolly hat lays upon my desk at home rather than on my head. They once had titled desks in their press box, but I like going to West Brom these days. They do press parking without you having to grovel and like, say, Aston Villa, they've altered the location of the press box this season. Unlike, say, Aston Villa, they've positioned it to give hacks a better view. They do cans of Tango and a lemon infused coconut slice alongside the inevitable pies (not literally alongside, but we're all adults here). Tragically, those pies have got worse. There's a lot of air in there. The filling lays apologetically on the bottom of the pastry, just as their hapless team will in May.
I'm sat next to the delightful Richard Jolly, who isn't especially jolly but he makes me smile. There's blood on a lot of carpets right now. This isn't good for anybody. Still, all you can do is glide through it. Afterwards, Albion's Tony Mowbray is quite realistic for someone so innately unrealistic. He uses the phrase "finger in the dyke" three times. Some hacks giggle in schoolboy fashion but I wonder ho he motivates a Robert Koren or Ishmael Miller.
I know I've been here before, but I just can't understand Felipe Scolari. I know he's got more to do than learn a language most of his team don't speak (insert your own hilarious John Terry joke here), but how does he pay for his Starbucks of a morning?
I ask him if he'd ever felt threatened his afternoon. Admittedly I was a bit sloppy on the syntax front, but he misunderstood me and though I meant the Albion fans were threatening him. I probably blushed and I'd forgotten his answer before I'd written it down. Hardly Woodward and Bernstein I know, but Deep Throat wasn't a Brazilian of few words...