Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Friday 6 May 2011

6 May 2011

Let's take a moment together, gentle reader. In this, the deafening quiet at the end of the season. While we wait for the pointless votes to be counted, let's talk a few statistics.

Total players pulling on the Grimsby shirt in the past two seasons? A mere seventy or so. Home win ratio in that period? Once in every 4.1 games. Total number of draws? I can't count that high, even with my excess joskin fingers and toes. Twelvety something.

I could go on but that's enough for a start. But at least we will have oh, at least half a dozen players we recognise in the squad that assembles for pre-season training after the dog days of May and June. Maybe even enough to have a five-a-side knockabout without resort to youth or signings.

No, I can't stop counting - sorry. By a very quick reckon-up, Town have employed almost two hundred and fifty first-team squad players under the ten years or so of Mr Fenty, averaging thirty six squad members per season. And too many managers and caretaker managers to count on the fingers and thumbs of both my hands. An average of more than one manager a season. And despite all those numbers there has never been any real competition for places. Just an endless conveyor belt of haircuts, attitudes and disappointment.

How does Dave Moore, appointed physio in 2001 by a nice coincidence, fucking cope with it? Moore-o is the one rational, sane figure at the club. He comes to work, he listens to an endless succession of young men groaning and moaning and bragging and generally being petulant. He patiently fixes them up. He gets them twisting and turning; he sends them back to train with the first team. He shrugs and he goes home. The man has the patience of a saint. Steve 'The Kitten' Croudson deserved his 'unsung hero' award of course. Although the philosophy of an 'unsung hero' award takes some pretty deep thinking to get your head around. But I say Dave Moore is even more deserving. I really do.

Let's rummage the Diary email inbox: Alan Dickens, a Mariners exile in Essex, has said this:

"Just thought I'd drop you a line from sunny Chelmsford and share a few thoughts on the goings-on in this neck of the GTFC empire. (Woodses gone but still not forgotten - what's he doing now?

"Anyway, you probably have noticed that Braintree Town (12 miles from Chelmsford and about a sixth the size) have made it as of right to the Conference Premier - a remarkable achievement really and I suppose on a par with clubs like Histon, Hayes & Yeading and Forest Green making it - how do they do it? It puts Town's plight in perspective, it really does.

"Chelmsford City lost last night 4-1 at home in the first leg of the south play-offs, so don't suppose Town fans will have to slog down the A1, A14 and M11 twice next season (get Multimap out now and start swatting up for Braintree - see you there!).

"Oh yes, don't write off the Pilgrims not to get back - York Street could again be an away trip next season - don't suppose anybody's going down there on Sunday to support Guiseley? Who, where - is there no end to it? Let's get back in the League - at least we know who everybody is."

To be honest, Alan, I'd contemplated going to York Street myself on Sunday but my loyalties would be with the new, improved Boston who have a nice ground and a nice chairman who seems ethical, sane, rational. Not qualities football fans come across very often these days. If Lincoln came down and Boston came up we'd all have some decent local fixtures next season, which would be good for the clubs and the fans alike I reckon. So come on Boston I say.

And Bob Smith has dropped us a line claiming royalties: "Loving your work and take on things as usual. After a shocking season I would be interested to see a league table for 2010-11 based on playing budgets versus actual final finishing positions on points. May I suggest that we would be the biggest underachievers by a mile. On another note I love the way you pull up that classic SNOS pre-season directions to Southport rather than Gainsborough classic. It was me that spotted that for you: any chance of some sort of royalty payment? I promise to invest it in fine real ales!"

Thanks Bob, but you are going to have to console yourself with self-bought ale, like us. When Cod Almighty started I don't think the intention was to document and comment on the slow pitiful downfall of our club. We never set out to count bad things; we wanted to celebrate all things Grimsby, to meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same. Dreams are not our master but we've been twisted by knaves alright. This Kipling paraphrasing has got to stop. Now. See yer.