Cod Almighty | Diary

I'd Rather Drown Than Fleetwood Town

18 March 2026

Yabadabadoo!

There's nothing better in the football world than a 96th minute winner, although by the time news had reached the Pontoon that we had scored we were deep into the first half of extra time. Honestly, we couldn't see a thing. A corner came over, then there was some sort of rugby ruck and then players were running about in random directions looking pleased with themselves. Even when I watched the highlights it wasn't entirely clear what had happened, although the ball did certainly look as if it had crossed the line. Put it this way, if the linesman hadn't given it the close ups that emerged later would have had us all feeling pretty aggrieved. But what the heck. He did give it, three points on the board and back in the play-off spots. 

It was nice of Fleetwood to line up to abuse the officials afterwards for the heinous crime of getting it right. Since they were lucky not to have conceded five in the game it all seemed a bit audacious to me. It might be nice if they got some sort of points deduction for their poor behaviour, which would speed up their inevitable descent back into the depths of non-league tinpottery from which they emerged.

It was interesting to see that most Town players didn't know what had happened either. The actual goalscorer, Kasabian, ran off to the Main Stand whereas the bulk of the playing staff followed Mr. Rodgers to the Lower Smiths, as it might not be called any longer, basically knowing something good had happened but unsure of the details. 

Talking of celebrations, the highlight of last night's football away from the Blundells was the Harrogate players celebrating goals in front of the Tranmere mascot. Since the aforementioned mascot is a big silly furry dog with what could be described as a 'hangdog' expression, and since the Tranmere fans are about to riot due to how bloody awful they are currently, it's a moment of high bathos, especially when the dog rather crossly gestures at the Harrogate players to stop celebrating and get back to their own half. It's a few seconds of TV that encapsulates the intense sadness and silliness that football can bring along with the more obvious, and less frequent, jubilation.

If I can leave football for a moment, does anyone remember the Reynolds Girls? They had a hit with I'd rather Jack than Fleetwood Mac in the late eighties. This song is notable for two reasons. Firstly, it is the only pop song ever to have the word 'demographic' in the lyrics, and secondly, it was (and still is) the only time in recorded history anyone has used 'Fleetwood Mac' as a verb. There are other bands with verb names they could have used. 'I'd Rather Jack than Kiss' sounds a bit dubious, but 'I'd Rather Jack than Rush' is better. If either of the Reynolds Girls is still listening, its not too late to change it. 

So, Barrow on Saturday. Andy Cook's old club and Danny Rose's current club are currently in the deep shit, being bottom of the league and having changed managers more often than I change my pants, i.e. three times this season. This looks like a great opportunity to hold onto a play-off spot but we will have to be a bit more ruthless than we have been so far. Has anyone noticed that? You know, the failure to turn possesion into goals? Oh, you have. Hokay.

Do you remember when wingers used to beat people? In those days you had one man on the wing and four people in the box. The modern way, as exhibited by our beloved stripeys, is to have four men on the wing spending five minutes creating a crossing opportunity, with one confused 35-year-old in the box wondering what he is supposed to do with the five men marking him and the ball flying over his head towards the Humber. That's football progress!. 

But less of this cynicism. The daffs are out, the sun is out and we are in the play-off positions. UTFM !