Not a Plod in sight at Edgar Street

First on the agenda (the Baggies played that evening) for Glynis and Simon Wright last Monday was a Conference affair, an afternoon meeting of Hereford United and Tamworth, second from top versus second from bottom, and an afternoon kick-off.

To keep it brief, then, Tamworth desperately needed the points to keep out of relegation trouble, while The Bulls wanted theirs in order to confirm their play-off place come the end of the season.

Once there, though, another pleasure Bank Holiday football provides - a handy ice-cream van parked in the street opposite the ground. Before you could say 'a cornet and a tub of choc mint chip, please', we were getting well and truly stuck in. Lovely stuff, and not a single plod or unpleasant opposition follower in sight.

So, over to the game, then. The thing you have to remember about Tamworth is that they do enjoy what you might term 'a certain reputation' in the Conference. When it comes to the rough stuff, there's none like them, and given their Conference position was far from safe, today's game promised much - but not in the way of skill, sad to say. We did spot SuperBob, however, one of their subs today, and warming up with the rest of the lads.

Come kick-off, though, the game took a pretty strange turn. For reasons best known to themselves, the Bulls decided today's affair - well, the first half, at least - to be nothing more than a lark in the park. No urgency whatsoever about them; as in their previous home fixture, it appeared that end of season ennui had well and truly set in. So low-key were the proceedings, the lad known as Talking Bill regaled us with a couple of tales where his booming voice had caused him to land in lumber of a totally non-PC nature. The first of these told of the time he and a few of his chums ventured into a pub near an away ground patronised almost exclusively by Asian people - then having a couple of drinks (or more!) and (totally innocently; there isn't a racist bone in his entire body) starting a chant of 'Come On You Whites'. Yes, before you ask, it did go down like a lead balloon.

The second time? This one was at Hartlepool. Bill is not really known for his tolerance of refereeing or line errors even at the best of times, so no surprise to anyone when Bill, angry at a series of (to him) erroneous flaggings, started letting rip at the lino. He had meant to intimate the poor chap was seriously biased towards the home side, who rejoice, of course, in the unofficial soubriquet "The Monkeys", hence his knee-jerk accusatory cry to the effect of calling the bloke a 'monkey'. Not once, but several times. It was only when someone quietly pointed out the error of his ways, he realised how close he'd unintentionally come to possible arrest. Yep - the guy was black, and Bill was very lucky indeed to remain a free man!

As for Tamworth, their supporters had it right. "No-one likes us, we don't care?." Which pretty much summed the situation up, really. Hereford's attack proceeded at half-cock, and the visitors' defence did their utmost to bore everyone to death. And that's just about how it stayed until midway through the second half. Realising a 'Plan B' was sorely needed, The Bulls took a brave decision, making substitutions and effectively leaving no less than three attackers up front. Suddenly, the home side got their act in gear, at long last. Wave after wave of white-shirted attacks hit the visitors' rearguard - it could only be a matter of time before they succumbed, and succumb they did, finally, with about ten minutes of the half gone. Even the name of the perpetrator of the damage will be familiar to Baggies regulars - Danny Carey-Bertram, whose stunning 20-yarder finally broke the deadlock.

They could have increased their tally quite easily afterwards, but didn't. Was that play-off nerves asserting themselves, I wondered. Anyway, Tamworth tried to repair the damage, and in one last desperate act, chucked on Albion's former Number Nine. Not much in the way of an attacking threat, really, Bob's skills were utilised more in the 'laying the ball off for others' area than anything else. Then, one minute into injury time, the lad nearly broke Hereford hearts. Finding himself free from the attentions of his markers for once, and only the keeper in his way, he took the ball to the edge of the box, let fly - only to see the effort whiz right over the bar. Two seasons ago, he would have buried the chance, no messing.

Come the final whistle, and confirmation of Hereford's play-off place, time to shift ourselves down to the car park and the mad scramble to participate in Game Number Two. Not that we were looking forward to the prospect, mind - already, Hereford's electronic scoreboard had shown Pompey to be a goal in front at Charlton, so we assumed it was all over bar the shouting. Imagine our shock when we turned on the radio, tuned in to Five Live for the results - and discovered The Addicks had gone and trounced them with only around ten minutes left to go. Football can't half be a funny game, sometimes, and no funnier-peculiar than today's little turn up for the books.

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