Cod Almighty | Diary

Say What You See

25 November 2024

Miss Guest Diary writes: I was so looking forward to going to the game on Saturday, having been unable to get to the previous three at Blundell Park – the first games I'd missed there since we returned after Covid. I told myself the performance and the result didn't matter – more on that later – just being back in the seat I've occupied for the last 27 seasons, back among my Saturday-afternoon season ticket friends was the most important thing.

I should have know better. It's been my experience over the years that the anticipation of an event so often proves way more enjoyable than the event itself. Back when I was married to someone who liked to take as many holidays as possible and was very fond of a Greek island, it frequently occurred. As someone with a fair skin and low tolerance for heat, the fortnight before the holiday spent preparing and packing, buying new clothes and travel-sized toiletries, was infinitely more enjoyable than the actual holiday spent coping with heat rash and hiding from the sun. And so it was on Saturday.

Five minutes into the game with a bitter wind blowing into the Pontoon making a nonsense of even the thickest coat, I began to feel I would have been better off at home watching old episodes of Midsomer Murders on catch up. Or, better still, new episodes of Return to Paradise starring Grimsby's very own Lloyd Griffith. If you like a helping of cosy crime with sunshine thrown in, then I recommend it.

Back to the football. When I told myself pre-game that the performance and the result didn't matter that was, of course, nonsense. I wanted Town to play magnificent football and win 3-0, though I would have settled for some decent passing and a 0-0 draw. Of course, I got none of that. I could have better accepted the scrappy play and 1-0 defeat if the players hadn't spent the last 10 minutes of the game passing it sideways or back to the keeper. Instead of pressing forward and "sticking it in the mixer" as every Town fan in Blundell Park was urging, they seemed content to operate this new Artell method of playing slowly out from the back in the hope of…what exactly? I left the ground feeling furious and cheated.

And then, and then, to have Artell tell us that Town created more chances than Colchester, that it was Town's best home performance for three or four games and that it was a step in the right direction in terms of performance. Well, the word that sprang immediately to mind was 'gaslighting'. Or, put in a cruder way in a quote from one of my favourite films: don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining.

I have tried very hard to get on board with the Artell regime, to accept that it's "a journey" and there will be "bumps in the road", but another afternoon like Saturday and I will be in serious danger of falling out of love with this iteration of the mighty Mariners.