Cod Almighty | Diary

Ambition bites the nails of success

7 October 2015

2-1 GET INNNNNNNN! What a moment. The kids were running down the stairs last night to see why Dad was whooping around the kitchen, swinging his shirt. Nice one Radio Humberside – I'd never heard the commentary of the Jevons winner in the Liverpool game before. Now if I can just get it as my ringtone. Or do people still bother with ringtones nowadays?

That was Anfield 2001. This is Grimsby 2015. Draws against the league leaders are #notgoodenough. Town must win every game or the internet is swamped in a tide of rabid froth. Plan A of 'scutter along, win our games in hand and then beat Forest Green home and away' went out the window on Saturday. What's plan B?
The relief at Arnold on last night's team sheet was offset at seeing Amond and Bogle on the bench again. Worryingly, Podge is now officially fully fit and recovered from his roly ankle. Not that this should have kept him out of the team.

A Liverpool joke a few years back was that injured defenders with broken legs and crutches were still a better option than putting Nicky Tanner in the team. Indeed, his final game only came about when Mark Wright was due to play in a wheelchair until a wheel fell off. Now I'm not saying Tomlinson is that bad but what in the name of football is he doing on the pitch for 70 goalless minutes when a cranky Bogle and even a semi-fit Amond are on the bench?

Last night we got our answer and a glimpse of the genius that original/regular Diary so subtly alluded to in Monday's diary (perhaps too subtly judging by some of the reaction to it). It seems plan B is going to be to win without strikers who strike. The adage of 'goals win games' is bunkum. Paul Hurst gave it to us straight last night: "Us front two had scored 13 goals and we were lower down the league."

Hang on – if strikers who didn't score were all we needed, we'd have won the League, the European Cup and even the World Cup yonks ago. But let Hursty finish: "It's about the team. It's always about the team." So huff, puff and harassle are more important than goals right now and we'll just have to grin and bear the grinding victories (hopefully) rather than enjoy the tonkings that we've had tantalising glimpses of. Be thankful that we had two superb Nathan Arnold goals to enjoy last night. Welcome back Nath.

Strikers who don't score preferred to those who can – before your brain starts to hurt on this one, consider this article on Frank Wormuth. He's the Germany under-20 coach and is interesting for his coaching of the intentional stray pass (again I can't believe we haven't packed the trophy cabinet with some of the naturals we've had). What makes sense to us punters doesn't always apply on the pitch.

So it doesn't matter that I think this set of players could take the league by the scruff and romp home with the title. At times the only thing keeping me from shouting HurstsOut is the belief that we will have another two years of rubbish under a new guy. A new guy whose opening line will of course be "once I've written off the contracts of X, Y and Z, I can get on with rebuilding – this is a big task".

Hurst will ultimately be judged by his results. Until that judgement day, it's up to us to get behind the eleven on the pitch in whatever formation he chooses. And occasionally grin and bear it. If it helps, this article from When Saturday Comes highlights how high-flying Walsall are being rewarded for persevering with manager Dean Smith:

Yet criticism of Smith has focused on a number of consistent weaknesses that have characterised his time in charge – poor home form and a tendency to draw too many games, as well as accusations of tactical inflexibility and an over-reliance on possession football that lacked a cutting edge.

Now who else could that have been written for?

Hurst had other targets last night: the longest-running residency on the Grimsby entertainment scene, The Boo Boys of Blundell Park. Sarcastic cheers for James McKeown and Ben Tomlinson and jeers for misplaced passes were the trigger for the manager to pine for Rob Scott to deliver a salvo. Instead he gave his own forceful and considered views on the small sections of the crowd that tried to undermine their own team last night. Hurst didn't use it (unfortunately) but thanks to social media, we now have the perfect word to describe these people: shitlarks. It's my new favourite word and you can expect to be seeing lots of it – in fact probably before the end of this diary.

So last night, after a flurry of late goals in the other games, we are just four points off the top. For all the disappointing results and all the fans' flapping, we won and we are still in touch – and we've ended up talking about the negatives.

But has it ever been anything else in Grimsby? Even the commentary box falls into the trap from time to time. Nath's equaliser took his cue from Alan Buckley telling John Tondeur off for going on about the Big Fat Goalie's howler for Gateshead's goal. It is one of my favourite commentary moments this season, along with JT explaining how to pronounce Amond on his home debut. ("It's Hammond without the aitch, Alan." "Oh, 'ammond without the aitch, I get it.")

Obviously everyone is pretty miserable when we are in a funk. When things are going poorly, everyone carries a cloud around with them and the masters of the negative craft can go unnoticed. When things are going well, the true shitlarks really find their voice and get noticed.

I don't even have to think hard about some perfect examples of this. In 1984, when we were challenging for promotion to Division One, Kevin Drinkell was booed by some Main Standers as he received the player of the month award before a game against Swansea. His crime? Drinkell (aged 23) was "blocking the youth" and keeping Wilkinson or Lund out of the side. The old codger would have been entitled to chuck the bottle of Martell at the idiots and storm off home. Instead he kept the youth out of the team for another week by scoring all three in a 3-0 victory.

Wembley always brings out the shitlarks. We were ten foot tall as we marched victorious from the Wembley play-off win in 1998 – until we were knocked down to eight foot by the plum in the car park claiming that "Buckley will need to get the cheque book out next season or we'll be straight back down".

They were there at Wembley 2013 too. Two minutes into the game the clown behind us was yelling: "Get Woods on, that Hatton's bloody rubbish." Now let's get examine the chronology, psychology and the, err, geography-ology of this. It's two minutes into the game. You're 130 yards from the Town bench. Why is the first thing out of your gob in a family section on a fantastic day out for the Town a big fat stupid moan? Despite objections he continued his drivel (a classic "don't do that, get it down an' play it" as Hatton headed clear a corner). I can't be sure but I think his head exploded when Hatton missed his penalty.

Other members of the club are people who complain about Operation Promotion: "Oh, I put half a week's wages into Operation Promotion, why aren't we top" or "it took three weeks to get my fish badge, what's going on?"

Operation Promotion wasn't about giving money to the club it was about us as fans. It was about putting our belief and love into our club. Hugs and kisses and verse aren't going to go very far in today's transfer market, so money was the means by which the Mariners Trust requested we show our support. I'm only one member of the trust but that won't stop me coming up with crazy ideas and getting escorted out of the AGM as I try to propose them as motions. Any cribbing about Operation Promotion and you can have your precious hard-earned cash back. We'll send you another fish badge with your refund – you can pin them both to your arse.

As always, I'll try to leave on a positive note. An Irishman who we never had to worry about being on the team sheet is in Town on 27 November. A Joe Waters evening is one of several great upcoming events that the trust has organised. My only problem is that Joe's night clashes with that of another diminutive Irishman and his band in Dublin the same night. U2 mirrored Joe's rise to godlike status in the late 70s and early 80s. Joe, of course, quit while he was wayyyyyyy ahead and didn't go on too long. Not like Bono and the boys, who have gone on about 20 years too long. Never mind – they still rip it up live on home turf and they've left me with a selection crisis of my own. Better look up Hursty's number, he's the man for these tough choices...