Cod Almighty | Diary
Game's gone!
2 July 2026
I’ve come to realise that I have a love/hate relationship with the World Cup. Grimsby Town will always be my first love, but as someone who was born and brought up in England I’ll always back the national team and hope they do well whenever they play in major tournaments.
The one taking place across the pond right now is giving your West Yorkshire Diary lots to enjoy, like the fact there’s always a match or two to watch on an evening. As someone who has never willingly gone to bed at a sensible time in his adult life, it’s given me the perfect excuse to stay up late and watch the kind of fixture you’d otherwise never dream of watching, like DR Congo versus Uzbekistan in the early hours of Sunday morning.
There have been upsets, controversies, late goals and flashes of individualistic flair. As a spectacle, it’s hard to argue against it delivering big stories and dramatic moments (take yesterday’s wins for England and Belgium, for example).
But the actual football? Gah.
Every time I tune into a match I see the same formations, the same tactics, and the same pattern of play. Someone carries the ball over the halfway line, gets 40 yards out, stops, puts their foot on the ball, passes sideways. Occasionally a pass might make it down the side of the penalty area! The recipient thinks about taking on their opponent, stops, puts their foot on the ball, passes backwards.
And then the team shifts the ball to the opposite side where the same thing occurs. A left-footer playing on the right; a right-footer playing on the left. Both forever checking back, cutting inside, offloading, never crossing, never swapping wings. I haven’t seen any heat maps, but I imagine they show fiery rainbows that arc perfectly around the penalty area.
It's low risk football. Nations scared of breaking a mould that seems to have been universally agreed. You play in a low block, we'll try and break you down, like it's some kind of glorified training session.
The big game players have turned up and scored goals, but so many teams have set up so defensively that only big game players know how to break their resistance. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong (if you’re a small nation going toe-to-toe with global superstars, you do what you can to win) but I became so tired of this repetitive nonsense that I cracked on the GTFC highlights video from season 1994-95, which the club made available on Mariners Player recently, to remind myself what quick, slick and incisive football looks like.
Gilbert down the left, Childs down the right, both taking players on, showing no fear and no hesitancy. Woods running the channels, twisting, turning, dancing past flailing full-backs, Mendonca shooting on sight, Livingstone flicking, holding, bringing marauding midfielders like Groves, Shakespeare and Dobbin into play. Macca, Croft and Jobling on the overlap. Pace, zest and gusto, wherever you looked.
And shocking attendances! With audible groans from the stands as the Mariners misplace a pass. "Get it in the box, Town!" they shout, as the Mariners allowed their swift passing to slip down from 100 mph to 90 mph.
Honestly, try it. Watch highlights from the late Buckley mark I era, now that your head has been filled with international football from 30 years in the future. The stuff we played far surpasses anything I’ve seen in this World Cup in terms of movement and intensity. Town played with a style and pace that wasn’t designed to be flawless, but fearless. International football itself is full of fear, and it’s become formulaic and metronomic as a result.
It’s so far removed from the blood and thunder of the domestic game it’s made me realise I’m watching it not for the actual football but for the sake of it.
If you’re looking for GTFC news then there is none. New home kit looks nice. Heritage and nostalgia has clearly driven this effort, so if the same care and attention can be applied to the socks I’ll be one happy camper. Because everyone knows a black and white kit with red socks is what sets Grimsby's black and white stripes apart.
