Cod Almighty | Diary
He's Trying to Walker it in!
1 October 2025
Laat time I wrote, the mighty stripey GTFC Super Mariners were all depressed and that because we had lost 3-0 to the Dodgy Barnets and had clearly not run about enough. This time, everybody is smiling and happy and singing, because against the Cheltenhams we almost got as many goals as they had men on the pitch. But you know all this. I'm just using it to remind myself that things change quickly in football land and next time you find yourself in the trough of despair, remember the sun, painted like a football, can emerge from behind the clouds at any time.
The ten minute period before half time was a beautiful illustration of this. A certain miserable bastard in the back of the Pontoon went from dark expectations of a 1-0 defeat to the worst team in the league to admiring two wonder goals from McMessi and the sending off of tall idiot and generally low quality person Harry Pell. I don't think I've ever laughed so much at a football match.
In the second half this was followed by more hilarity as Dairy Lee Tri Angol decided to elbow McDammit Janet for the third challenge in a row, and was sent on his way by a referee I could have easily proposed to at that moment. Now, I don't like Cheltenham, and I don't generally like away fans, not being one of those virtuous family-of-football types, but I was happy to applaud their supporters whose hilarious over the top ironic celebrations for every one of our goals caused much joy. I mean, we've all been there haven't we? You set off to watch your team with high expectations only to see everything go south at the speed of the 14.37 to Kings Cross. I almost want them to win their next game. Almost.
On Saturday we go to non-league perennials and pretend football league team Salford, who, like bad pennies, Sarah Ferguson, Harrogate, Shingles and Jim Davidson just will not fuck off. Luckily we are still far enough away from the Brentford game to prevent distractions and wandering minds. Brentford, eh? Elderly gentlemen like myself can remember playing and beating them on many an occasion in bog standard league games, which rather dilutes the glamour of a premiership tie. I suppose to the younger whippersnapper Brentford seems like a big team. I haven't snapped a whipper in literally years and I still see them as part of GTFC's footballing peer group like Brighton and Bournemouth. If we had a younger reader he'd doubtless be rolling his eyes now and tutting at Grandad BOTB and his Spangle-flavoured reminiscing, but as it is I think I'm on pretty safe ground.
Oner thing is for sure - I will never see Salford as anything other than a rich man's project that overstayed its welcome, and, unlike Forest Green, didn't have the decency to finish bottom after a couple of seasons of going for it, Icarus style. Let's hope we put them to the sword, though it won't be easy, because they'll probably have eleven men and be quite good. Curse them.