Cod Almighty | Diary

Welcome back Paul Crichton

24 June 2014

Paul Crichton, who has rejoined Grimsby as goalkeeping coach, was one of those players who cast no shadow. He was signed in typical Alan Buckley fashion from lower-league Doncaster, arriving with no reputation or expectation. He left three years later, signed in typical Buckley fashion for West Brom, and was relatively soon forgotten. Which is odd, as while he was at Blundell Park he was a notable presence.

His popularity was at first sight surprising as his debut was not a happy one. On the first day of the 1993-94 season, not only did he concede five goals, but one of them was an own goal after Crichton's Paul Robinson-style 'can-can' clearance from a back-pass. People have been sent to Armthorpe Welfare for lesser crimes than having the words "Paul Futcher (og)" appear on a scoresheet.

One memory explains why Crichton was so swiftly forgiven. Watching my first Town match for a while, your Middle-Aged Diary went into the instinctive wince I had developed over the years when a high cross was sent into the Town box. I was standing with Bill Brewster, who noticed my reaction. "Don't worry, he's good at those," he said, as Crichton came off his line calmly and safely caught the ball.

After Steve Sherwood – a wonderful shot-stopper whose prowess was all the more unexpected as he scarcely aspired to command his goal-line, never mind the goal area. After the brave, borderline reckless Paul Reece. After Rhys Wilmot, who made us a martyr to his bad back. Finally, in Crichton we had a keeper who ruled the penalty area with natural ebullience.

Setting his sights higher than his predecessors, it is perhaps inevitable that when his standards fell, they fell further and harder. Looking back 20 years, I can't remember a single save Crichton made, though I know there were several. He was our player of the year in 1993-94. I can remember the odd time he dropped a cross. It stuck in the mind because it was unusual, and for two years at least he did not let it affect his confidence, his defence's or ours.

And then there were his clearances. It was Crichton's misfortune that when he should have been reaching his peak, the rule prohibiting goalkeepers from handling back-passes was introduced. Sure in his handling, his kicks could land anywhere from the third row of the stand 20 yards from goal to the feet of the nearest opponent.

Perhaps in the end that got to him, or else it was the strain of playing behind a disintegrating backline under Brian Laws. My last sight of him was in April 1996 against a Watford team cast adrift at the foot of the second division. We lost 6-3 with Town's central defenders providing all the protection of a chocolate fireguard. A visibly shell-shocked Crichton let one low shot squirm from his grasp and over the line.

Sad to have that as a last memory of him, so it is good he is coming back. All those years ago, a regular warm-up routine among the goalkeepers and subs was to compete to try and kick the ball against the crossbar. Crichton's crowing when he succeeded used to ring around the ground. If James McKeown was hoping for a quiet time, let us hope he gets it in matches, as he certainly won't in training.