Cod Almighty | Diary

Diary - Tuesday 2 July 2013

2 July 2013

Hello, and it's your Middle-Aged Diary's once in a blue moon credit where credit is due day. People at this parish have been known to speak slightingly of Grimsby Town's newly superb new official website, yet the person who wrote the sentence "HULL City have agreed to send a development squad to play the Mariners in a pre-season friendly game later this month" is a minimalist poet, perfectly capturing the lordly disdain displayed by King$ton Communications PLC for their neighbours since they stumbled on a pot of gold some years ago. 26 July is the day they are deigning to visit our slum.

You want news? Google Edward Snowden, or follow events in Egypt. For sports news, try the Lions in the build-up to their series decider on Saturday, the preparations for the Ashes or even Wimbledon, offering generous helpings of the unexpected (you can turn down the smug control on your telly when John Inverdale comes on, and play spot the most offensive hooray Henry or Harriet when they do crowd shots). Sure, you are missing football, but trying to fill the void with such snippets as Grimsby can offer is like trying to slake your thirst with sea water. Let Mike Worden's report of a now mercifully forgotten nil-nil draw at the Racecourse remind you that there will be times to come when you will be longing for the season to end.

Oh, all right then. Since Town have now gone two whole months neither conceding nor scoring a goal, representing 992 goalless draws, write in with your suggestions of the most memorable Mariners stalemates, whether for their surprising quality or for their mind-numbing sterility. To get you started, take your mind back to 25 April 1998. Six days before, Town had played the best part of two hours' football at Wembley, before hot-footing it to Cumbria to beat Carlisle 1-0 two days later. Now they had to visit Watford, title contenders and a team who presented a stern physical test. Alan Buckley didn't really do squad rotation: largely the same players were slogging their way through the best part of 70 matches that season. I remember hardly anything of the match, but I do remember that the Mariners stood up to everything Watford could throw at them, and that when they had finally come through, the Town XI sagged to their knees. To be there was to understand the cost to the players, and therefore the value, of that annus mirabilis.