Cod Almighty | Diary

And I was having a nice time reminiscing about left-backs until someone said "Big day out"

3 February 2015

He came. He got pulled into a row about Grimsby's 'zero tolerance' policy on racism (racist abuse it was decided was not racist enough to get you excluded from Blundell Park). He occasionally overlapped his way up the pitch like a cut-price Gary Croft. He more often whanged the ball down the line like Paul Agnew on one of his 'put his boots on the wrong way round' days. And he occasionally demonstrated the Tony Gallimore panicky retreat. Now Aswad Thomas has gone. Released from his contract by Grimsby, apparently signed by Woking.

We could spend a lot of time pretending we know what has gone on, but actually Paul Hurst has dealt with this in a very professional way. The only thing we know is that we are better off without Aswad, and he is better off without us.

Middle-Aged Diary is only going to dwell on this because there isn't a lot else to dwell on. If you are on your way to Dover, unless it's en route to France, turn back. The match was called off last night. Lenell John-Lewis has, it is true, brought disgrace on the club by revealing he is a Londoner who supports Manchester United, but 15 goals and the sense of calm when he takes a penalty buys an awful lot of forgiveness. Perhaps his mum is from Stretford.

Is it just me, or do the Mariners treat the left-back role in the same way England used to treat the left-arm spinner role in the days of Phil Edmonds and Phil Tufnell? The only left-back I can think of who is the kind of lower-league steady defender you'd expect us to have was Paul Agnew. In Croft and Kevin Moore, we have had a couple of consummate defenders in the role. Others seem to have been picked in part to add colour.

Bobby Cumming one longs to bring back in these days of 3-D filming. Imagine being able to project onto the large screen the experience of being in the front row of the Main Stand as the Scot closed down on his prey?

Gallimore was a kind of Corporal Jones. During a game, you felt towards him as Captain Mainwaring did, if indeed you were not saying to yourself: "Doomed, we're all doomed." Afterwards, you could come over more Sergeant Wilson. Of course, when Ronnie Bull was playing, we were doomed.

If Gallimore was comedy, then Kevin Jobling was a kind of tragedy, a fine all-round midfielder trapped in a no. 3 shirt. He was at least a more successful conversion than Tom Newey, who could play in any one of three positions, but unfortunately it always seemed to be the wrong one. He attacked like a central defender and defended like a winger.

Right, I'm going to break off there because I've been reminded of a monumentally misguided idea: turning the Conference play-off final into a rent-a-van big day out. The sponsors hope to "make the day more memorable by creating an electric party atmosphere for all footy fans let alone fans of the two finalists".

The play-off finals are perhaps the most partisan occasions in the footballing calendar. It is a time when it really is only the result that counts. If you are old enough, think back to the contrast in atmospheres between the Football League Trophy final and the play-off final in 1998. One was a friendly good-spirited occasion where you could just enjoy the day out – it did help that we won. Had Northampton somehow got past us a few weeks later, I'm pretty certain the last thing any Town fan would have said was "ah well, it was a nice day out".

This smacks of stubbornness. Having fixed the Conference calendar to make sure the final can take place at Wembley, the organisers are now desperate to fill the place. Selling vouchers to the fans of clubs who may not be competing smacks of desperation. It's a promotion that might be appropriate for the FA Trophy final but is entirely wrong for the play-off final. If we can't fill Wembley with supporters of the teams involved, other football grounds are available.

"How good is that?" asks the press release of their initiative. Not even remotely good. On the left-back scale where ten is Gary Croft and one is Ronnie Bull, this counts as Ronnie Bull in a blindfold. Not so much rent-a-van, in fact, as rent-a-fan.