Cod Almighty | Diary

What's luck got to do with it

25 November 2013

Miss Guest Diary writes: You might think that Town’s victory against Barnet on Saturday was due to excellent defending from Thomas and MacDonald, or cool finishing by Hannah and Hearn; or the ability of Barnet to pass the ball prettily all over the pitch without producing much in front of goal. But you'd be wrong: Town won because my partner was wearing his lucky shirt.

I've probably mentioned before my inability to comprehend how a sane, and supposedly rational, adult can believe that an item of clothing will somehow affect the outcome of a football match. We were several years into our relationship before I realised that there could be such a thing as a 'lucky' pair of underpants – the superstition seemed confined to pants in the early years – by which time it was too late to bail out.

It sometimes has its amusing side. Once, when a game had been abandoned due to a frozen pitch, it was essential for my partner to wear the same combination of clothing to the rescheduled match. As this took place on a much warmer day, it was fun to watch him steaming away in a thick jumper and overcoat combination. One season he challenged my organisational skills in the laundry department by insisting on wearing the same shirt/jacket/trouser combination to every game. That was the season Town were relegated from the Football League, so you can see how well it worked.

Given the obvious futility of the superstition, I thought he'd given up on the whole thing – but it had simply gone underground. My suspicions were roused earlier this month when the same shirt turned up in the laundry basket three times in 10 days. They were confirmed on Saturday when he appeared downstairs bare-chested in search of that particular shirt. And, of course, it's already in the wash to be ready to work its magic on next Saturday's trip to Coalville.

Returning to the Barnet game, I was looking forward to seeing some skilful play from ex-Juventus, ex-Barcelona Dutch international Edgar Davids. Expressing disappointment at how ordinary he seemed, I learned that fancy footwork was not his speciality and that he was renowned for his defensive play: less of a Wayne Burnett and more of a world-class Stacy Caldicott, but with a lot more hair. Sadly even Davids' defensive prowess seems diminished as Alex Rodman had no trouble in getting the ball off him on several occasions.

But in the character department Davids remains a top man. I have been an admirer since I read about him sending the team coach to rescue some Barnet fans stranded on the M6. Then I read this weekend that he doesn't even get paid for his work at Barnet. True class.

And then there is the idiot who smashed the Barnet coach window with a brick after the game on Saturday. Sometimes I'm really pleased to be able to say I'm not from round here.