Cod Almighty | Diary

The road to Donna Nook

7 April 2017

Retro Diary writes: Last week it was odd leaving Blundell Park just before three o'clock, with the rest of the afternoon stretching ahead and the other teams just kicking off. Two hours on a spring day of sunshine and showers (which would normally have been accounted for) had to be filled until teatime and the classified check. Even odder, coming from that particular match, was the feeling that something would be hurting if it wasn't numbed. Like you get when you come out of the dentists after a filling.

As I walked up Grimsby Road, I was oddly sanguine about what had just happened but nevertheless in a slight state of shock and with a strong psychological need for some quiet, open space. Having sat in the Osmond end of the Main Stand, hemmed in by the Donny fans, for the previous two hours, I finished up driving down the coast road for the big skies. I ended up at Donna Nook where the sun came out, the blackthorn was flowering along the seawall and the waterfowl dozed peacefully in the reeds. An enormous, slate-blue stormcloud formed a dramatic backdrop for a time before sailing away over the estuary. It was peaceful but that feeling of scarcely concealed grievance never went away.

When I got back to town I ordered the biggest, most expensive pizza on the take-out menu, even though I couldn't really afford it. I listened to my four-year-old talking about his sunflower seedlings and his Lego plane, although the idea that you could come from Grimsby that day yet carry on happily as though nothing had happened seemed slightly incongruous, even at age four. I began to wonder whether my plan to take him to his first Town match at seven years old would turn out to be bad parenting, and whether I shouldn't just leave him to find his own way there (or not), if, and when, he decided his life was a bit short on suffering.

I pointedly avoided my usual dose of Goal Rush on Channel 5 that night, and later had a most peculiar dream about struggling to swim for my life while fully dressed.

After waking up on Sunday morning, it took about 30 seconds to remember what that really bad feeling from the previous day was, and by 11 o'clock I'd had a massive row with my family. The anaesthetic had plainly worn off.

If football makes you argue with your family, you're taking it way too seriously. It is to let your life be ruled by something that nobody actually needs; an ultimately trivial thing that was put on Earth because people wanted it there. It makes little sense but that raises a difficult problem. If football matters so much when you win promotion at Wembley, how can it suddenly not matter at all when you lose 5-1 at home to a bunch of annoying historical minnows? It either matters or it doesn't.

If football matters so much when you win promotion at Wembley, how can it suddenly not matter at all when you lose 5-1 at home to a bunch of annoying historical minnows? It either matters or it doesn't

The ability to milk victories for all they're worth but put defeats straight to the back of your mind is a handy one. I thought I was quite good at it, but on reflection, maybe not. But it must be the way forward; to accept that in football our turn will come, and when it's not our turn to just forget about it and think about something else.

Much of the annoyance was at the circumstances of the defeat. It was such a weird time to try a team and system that guaranteed confusion. Even before kick-off, the manager's programme notes had a slightly worrying positive overtone which contrasted with the general feeling about recent performances. But weirdly, Town edged the first 20 minutes, forcing Donny into a number of errors. What went wrong after that was kind of hard to put your finger on.

Individual sloppiness, certainly, and an inability to get back into the game because of an incomprehensible system. It was all topped off by that topknotted little tool Alfie May celebrating a goal which was clearly actually an own goal, making a score of 1-5 which will sit there in the head-to-head record as a humiliating anomaly for the rest of time. And was their third goal offside? I was in line and I thought so, just, not that it made any difference.

I mean, 1-5. One. Five. To the traditionally smallest and most unthreatening of our Yorkshire rivals (take that as a scarcely deserved compliment, Halifax). It is an occurrence for which we have no practised response. It's something we can't really deal with except by denial, the deployment of a psychological firewall. Never again do I want to go to the football and finish up at Donna Nook.

So what of the remaining six fixtures? The only thing we can achieve now is to slightly lessen the worries about next season that we're going to feel over the summer. There is always that underlying hope that Marcus has got a masterplan; something in his mind that he can't get to work, but when he does, Town will tick and whirr like a well-oiled machine. But the more you watch, the less likely it seems.

We all know what a good team playing well looks like. Neither this manager nor the last seem to have realised that this is what we've been watching for large slabs of our lives, so we're relatively up on the subject. Adequate players in their proper positions, in a shape they understand with width (both sides) and a little pace up front, getting up and down the pitch quickly as a unit while keeping (us) shape. Close down hard (for which no special talent is required) and concentrate for the full 90 minutes.

It really is that simple, and if you could make it work really well, you'd piss this division and probably the next. I know getting it to work well isn't as easy as it sounds, but if I saw anything to indicate that we were working towards it, I'd be very much happier.

Tomorrow, it's Blackpool and again our incredible away support will be out in force, which is more than you can say for the home lot who are in the midst of their 'not a penny more' boycott against the Oystons. Members of the emergency services and armed forces in Lancashire can get in for free, which one could cynically interpret as a way of making the problem less visible. As you can imagine, there is a minor scrummage on for those tickets, so home fans can watch without technically paying. If you don't want to undermine their project, please remember not to spend any money inside the ground.

On the pitch, Blackpool need a win to have a chance of entering the play-off positions. As for Town, there has to be at least a hint of tactical cohesion – 'back to basics', even – or we may see the kind of disquiet so eloquently described by Middle-Aged Diary yesterday.

For us, ex of Blackpool Scott Vernon is still out, and as for Akwasi Asante? Well, no-one's saying.

UTM