Walsall blog: A Christmas Carol

It was a bleak midwinter, times were hard and Ebeneezer (or Jeffrey to his friends) was hard at work in the boardroom.

Strange things had been happening to him recently, which started when he thought he'd heard Bob Marley's ghost over the tannoy.

He put it down to tiredness. Jeffrey must have dropped off to sleep when he was woken by what he thought was the roar of a crowd. He looked up and saw a scary sight.

'I am the Ghost of Walsall F.C. Past' said the spooky figure, who looked uncannily like that old cigarette card picture of Gilbert Alsop, 'and I have come to take you on a journey.'

Seconds later Jeffrey was being whisked away, high up in the sky, soaring over the old Fellows Park.

Images flashed in front of him. The 1933 win over Arsenal, Bill Moore's back to back promotions in the early 1960s, cup victories over Manchester United and Newcastle of the seventies.

Goals galore from Alan Buckley, the Milk Cup run, David Preece and David Kelly and many more.

The Ghost howled: "We never had any money but we couldn't half put together some great football teams."

Then they were over Bescot, winning promotion under Chris Nicholl, Ray Graydon (twice) and Richard Money, scoring seemingly endless local derby wins.

The Ghost added: "Walsall sides can't always compete on level terms but they can have a right good go with the right people on board, can't they?"

Before Jeffrey could answer, the Ghost of Walsall past was gone.

Jeffrey thought to himself: "What a strange dream. I wonder if I could sell it as a DVD?"

The following night, Jeffrey was all tucked up in bed when he heard yet another strange rattling noise.

It bellowed: "I am the Ghost of Walsall F.C. Present (until the transfer window opens). I have come to take you on journey."

Before he knew it, Jeffrey was in his seat in the main stand at the Banks's Stadium. What he couldn't understand though was the way in which every time he looked, there seemed to be fewer and fewer people in the ground.

The players out on the pitch did remain exactly the same though, even if they were often in different places. The grey–haired old man and his mate in front of the dugout kept on shouting confusing instructions at them.

The strange thing was that every time Jeffrey thought he was just about to wake up, the opposition would score. It seemed to just go on and on and on.

"Why can't somebody do something about this?" screamed Jeffrey, but the Ghost of Walsall present (until the transfer window opens) pretended not to hear.

Just when Jeffrey thought it couldn't get any worse, it got worse. The most deafening sound of all heralded the third spirit, dressed in a black hooded top carrying a scythe.

Our Jeffrey pondered: "Don't think much of that away kit, where's the badly drawn sponsor's logo?"

The third ghost whispered menacingly: "I am the Ghost of Walsall F.C. Future and I have come to take you on a journey."

Jeffrey was whisked back to the Banks's but there seemed to be no-one there at all.

He asked the ghost: "Why have you brought me to a youth team game?"

The ghost replied scarily: 'What do you mean? This is your first team! This is a League game!"

Jeffrey nervously answered: "Err… yes I knew all those promising youngsters would come good."

The even greyer-haired old man interrupted: "No Mr. Chairman. Even they've all been sold, these are the Under 14's."

Then Jeffrey saw a sight that chilled him to the bone, next to the dugout was a lone pair of crutches.

"Oh God no, not Tiny Tim" cried Jeffrey, choking back the tears.

The ghost of Walsall future answered: "Don't be stupid, Tiny Tim's a fictional Victorian character. They belong to that Albanian trialist your Football Consultant's just brought in."

In a flash Jeffrey was back in the boardroom clearly shaken by his experiences.

He told himself: "'I can't ignore that last vision, things must change forever. I wonder how much we could retail Grim Reaper outfits for?"

Immediately Jeffrey rushed down to the club shop, stopping only to spend an hour on the phone to his lawyers and accountants, to check the rent was still being paid.

Upon seeing a street urchin, Jeffrey shouted out 'What day is it today?'

The youngster replied: "Why its Christmas Eve of course."

Jeffrey curiously said: "Don't you mean Christmas Day?"

The youngster replied: "No Christmas Eve, I'm buying last minute presents, if it was Christmas Day I'd be at home playing on the Xbox. This isn't a Dickens novel you old fool."

Jeffrey added: "Haha young scamp, here's a farthing, you can put it towards a half-season ticket."

From that day on, Jeffrey vowed to always adhere to the spirit of Christmas.

This is all of course a work of fiction and any resemblance between these characters and anyone living or dead (except possibly Gilbert Alsop), however comical, is purely co-incidental.

Merry Christmas everybody.