Cod Almighty | Diary

Bugger the stables, John - get building that ark

12 February 2014

Yesterday was a rubbish day for your London Diary. Usually on a Tuesday I play football with a load of colleagues for two hours during the day (we all work nights before you start accusing me of being a bum). That was cancelled because Crystal Palace, the football team, had to use our pitch as theirs was wet or something. Then an hour later I received news that Town's game at Dartford was called off due to a waterlogged pitch.

So my fun-fuelled day of testosterone, burgers and more testosterone turned into a boring day of admin and shopping. Why all this rain? I bet there's a mentalist UKIP member linking all this to the support for Sochi athletes. Get a job mate.

So, we didn't play last night but some other teams did. Some results went in our favour and some didn't. I won't bore you with the facts: you were checking the results as much as I was last night. An ex-player also scored an important goal for his new team last night too. Pah, loyalty, hey? What's this world coming to? We even named a park after him.

Last night's postponement now means that in one week before the end of the season, we might have to play three games in seven days. Again, we can't grumble: we're in this league for a reason. I don't want to be all grumpypumps, especially when the weather is so dismal. But I remember last season at Ebbsfleet, where me and a few of 'the boys' were having a few beers with some of the local fans in one of their sheds-cum-pubs in the ground. It was nice chatting to them talking about football and pies when one of them politely added: "You really shouldn't be in this league, you know – you deserve to be higher."

All four of us sniggered and were quick to point out that, while we didn't particularly enjoy being in this league, we are no better than any other team in the fifth tier of English football and that there's a reason why we're here. This isn't Funhouse with Pat Sharp where we fall down a trapdoor onto on our arses, have a laugh and climb back up again. We're on our arses for a number of reasons and with no sexy twins in sight.

Now, you can point the finger at a number of arguments as to why we're down here at the lower realms of English football. Obviously I have my list of reasons why we're here, as we all do. If you want to hear mine then come down to that there London and knock on my door. They're in an envelope under my bed.

What we all have to do, though, is pull up our red socks and get behind the boys. The players would love to be playing teams in a higher league in nicer grounds. The boss would love to have a slightly bigger budget than he does now. Dave Moore would even get a new tracksuit. Crikey, it'd be amazing playing games in a season that started and finished in a timely fashion. But what we can't do is moan about the present. Let's look to the future, blow up that haddock and sing our bloody hearts out. We're 19 games away from the happiest days of our lives. UPTHEBLOODYMARINERS.