Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Tuesday 8 March 2011

8 March 2011

In lieu of Idle Diary, who has been dragged off on important northern digital community business, mouthing an emailed 'sorry' as he went, here is your Guest Diarist in terse mood. Don't mention the board.

We could have really done with a game tonight. If ever Town are going to go on that 'little run' this season now would be a very good time. But cup replays have got in the way, so we will be reduced to watching the other Conference results between keeping an eye on some Spaniards probably giving the Frenchmen a damn good hiding. It's not as though Ademeno will get any fitter, or Cummins and Hudson will get any less suspended by Saturday, is it?

Mind you, I suppose the always-just-out-of-reach Hughes might settle his sore achilles down enough to figure. An injury like that, of course, makes him more prone to getting other injuries with this stop-start training. If he doesn't start the spotlight will fall on the frankly moody Sinclair, whose last appearance was so uninspiring he was hauled off at half time with the sight of Leary (of all people) some kind of relief. Town's central midfield is a ruddy jumble of the eager, the untalented, the inconsistent, the injured, the suspended and the rash. The latter being Mr Bradley Wood, of course. His enthusiasm and commitment to winning the ball know no bounds; his passing needs a bit of work, shall we say; and his ability to stay on the pitch for an entire match has to be a question to ask. But we all want to see him there secretly - so we can cite Pouton to all and sundry.

But Dave will know what to do. His post-match interview on Saturday was an oasis of unruffled calm. He's a Town fan first and foremost. He comes to work, he does his best and then he goes home. He works no magic, he says. But maybe he cuts some of the bullshit too: the team played for him, the substitutions worked, the first victory was gained. But the real test is on Saturday - away to professional mid-table obscurists with no money but a bit of recently acquired team spirit.

So the physio gets to take the decision about whose legs are right; let's hope he's in a position to work out whose head is right too. See yer.