Cod Almighty | Diary

I Caught the Ball and I Liked It

4 March 2026

Hurrah! 

In last week's diary I was more or less telling everyone to forget their crazy play off dreams, get the deckchairs out and tie the knotted hankies onto the head (strangely unfashionable now) for a quiet sumer is icumen in. But then the stripeys only go and pilfer six points from two tough games and, hey ho rumbelow, it's on. Incidentally, if you're planning to revive the hanky-on-head fashion, please make sure it's an unused one. Top fashion tip there.

I was lucky enough to be able to get back to Blundell Park last night to witness what can only be described as a first half goal blitz. From my unusual position on the front row behind the goal I could almost smell their goalkeeper's sweaty armpits. Ewww. I've sickened myself there. Because of foreshortening, when you watch a game from just behind the goal it looks as if everything is happening a yard in front of you. Watching the highlights back it came as a surprise to me that all four goals weren't in fact scored from the goal line. You also discover the curse of the people walking back and forth on their way to the food kiosk, the toilets and so forth, who of course stop right in front of you if any on-pitch action distracts them from their quest.

People's inability to sit still for 45 minutes has always surprised me – when I sat in the Main Stand at the Ponny end kick-off seemed to be the cue for everyone sitting there to decide that where they really wanted to be was somewhere else. Then they would change their mind and come back. And then realise that was a mistake. And everybody else was up and down like a bride's nightie facilitating their wanderlust. 

Where was I? Oh yes. I also managed to catch the ball after Greeny shanked one into the crowd. The only time previously I went to catch the ball at a match the person in front of me managed to get a fingertip to it, diverting it straight into my face and breaking my glasses. I'm aware this makes me sound like a nerd in a crappy 1980's American teen movie, but I promise you that isn't the case even though the chronology checks out. And if you think catching a cross isn't a big deal remember that's more than Tommy Forecast managed in his time here. 

I urge you, if you can find it, to check out Salford manager Karl Robinson's post-match interview. It's one of the finest examples of Authentic Football Manager Gibberish I've ever heard. It starts off reasonably enough, with him telling the interviewer they were the best side for the first half an hour, which was true, but then disintegrates into complete nonsensical drivel about zones and emotions. Men who aren't clever trying to be clever will never not be great comedy, John, and football manager interviews are often a prime example of the genre. Our David's interviews may sound like a pissed plumber grumbling in his sleep after a works do but, once sped up to 45rpm, mainly make sense. Mainly.

I quite liked Salford, even though they are a joke vanity project. I though they were decent and mainly played the game in the right spirit. See, Colchester? It can be done. What a shame to see a Cowley team's play-off hopes fade. Oh dear.

When we replaced Christy Pym with Jackson Smith I was not certain it was going to be a good move. After all, having experimented with one goalkeeper with two surnames and no first names, it seemed rash to bring in another. But you can't deny the difference he has made to Town's defence. Next time someone tells you that a goalkeeper needs a first name, you send him my way. I have lived and I have learned. 

Bloody Bromley on Saturday. Looking at the highlights they were lucky to get a point against Oldham last night, so we mustn't be intimidated by the fact that they are all at least seven foot tall and remember we can beat them, because we can. For we are the Mighty Mariners, and our season is still very much alive. Amen.