Cod Almighty | Diary

Something about scissors

29 May 2015

Retro Diary writes: Here's a great pub quiz question for you: in 2015, what did the winners of the Championship, League 1, League 2, Conference Premier, Conference North and Conference South all have in common? This amazing connection tells you straight away why we could never have won at Wembley. Do take a look – if you're of a mystic persuasion it might even make you feel slightly better.

That's not to mention the strong aversion therapy effect this week, firstly of seeing Bristol Rovers celebrating in their open-top bus victory parade, and then not one but two photographs of naked footballers with their man bits inserted into silverware. If you don't know what I'm talking about, think yourself lucky and for sanity's sake don't ask. Of all the methods I've been using to try to put football out of my mind over the last two weeks, this was the one that truly worked.

Talking of Wembley (yes, we were), we know that ticket sales from the Town allocation were very slack running up to the play-off final – probably only half of Mr Fenty's predicted turn-out, and similarly far short of the number I thought we would take. But did we ever find out exactly how many (or how few) Town fans actually made the fateful journey? I've heard 13,000, but is that a guess? This sign of the times, this bellwether, is not a trivial statistic. Not that those present didn't do us proud – they certainly did. But so many didn't bother – do we know why?

Town's three consecutive defeats previously at the national stadium may have instilled a sense of gloomy paralysis into many a more sensitive supporter. But arguably Sunday's final had the highest stakes of any match for many years, and 'feelgood' was high. Intuitively this doesn't seem to be the answer. The internet-only ticket purchasing system might have riled a few luddites and contrarians, but this was put right with plenty of time to spare.

Have five years in the wilderness led to a haemorrhaging of Mariners diehards to the ranks of glory-seeking TV Premiership-watchers? Such a misunderstanding of what football is all about is an utter mystery to me – and I'm sure to you too. But we all know someone who's sold out to the sofa, even though taking the easy route is rarely, in any walk of life, the surest way to fulfilment.

The very obvious and simplest answer is that they didn't go because it was on the telly. For the inflated cost of a Wembley ticket and travel to London you could eat and drink like a king while watching it on the box in a North East Lincolnshire boozer. What's more, when the final penalty kick floated guttingly over the line you could turn straight over to Man Utd vs Arsenal to forget about it, and not have the trouble of finding your coach in the coach park before wedging yourself in it and trundling back up the motorway for the next four hours with your headphones on, trying to avoid Radio 5.

Assuming that Town had more than 10,000 extra fans available to them, but who didn't travel, it is quite possible that BT Sport, by televising the game, cost someone the thick end of half a million quid in gate receipts. So what did BT pay the two clubs to televise the final? Unless it was in six figures, it might be time to renegotiate the deal. I still think it's a shame that the biggest crowd ever to watch a non-League match – something to be mightily proud of – could have been so much bigger still.

Focus has now turned to the tiresome cat-and-mouse of contracts for next year. To North-West Diary's summary yesterday, I can add that Gowling (two years), Mackreth and Arnold (one year) have now signed. Reports that Lenell responded to being offered a new deal with the words "what, really?" are unsubstantiated, and we take the fact that he hasn't signed yet as evidence of ten broken fingers. But you still have to love the Shop, and under the circumstances what greater compliment could you pay a bloke than that.

Don't worry too much about next season's team. Eleven players will start the first game, and they will be better than average for the division – the budget will see to that. Only when we start talking goalscorers and managers will I really sit up – because that, if it is to do so, is where it will all fall down.

After two weeks of Wembley comedown, I'm just beginning to look forward again, although I'm expecting a minor relapse when the fixtures come out – especially, for reasons too complex to explain, when I see the word 'Southport'.

For me, the most effective relief from post-play-off depression comes in the realisation that supporting a football team must be, and should be, so much more than its results – otherwise we would all be on the next train to Manchester with our 'Grimsby Reds' flag. There will never, at any time in the future, be an end to football-related disappointment – the game is set up to create it, after all. It will always be necessary to suck it up from time to time, and take the longer view.

The answer, I'm convinced, is to create in our football club an identity, ethic, aesthetic and community spirit as unique and vibrant as humanly possible, so it becomes a family whose ties are more important than its silver. Happily, since Forest Green away on 7 February, we seem to have taken a massive step in the right direction. That the spirit around the place can change so quickly should be a considerable source of encouragement, and we must ensure it doesn't change back just as rapidly, whatever the team looks like in August.