Cod Almighty | Diary
The Curse of the Bogle's Beard
16 September 2015
Wicklow Diary writes: Red away shirts? Yes. Yes. Yes. I'll be first in the queue at the club shop for their limited edition release. Just as I was for last year's… err, limited edition red away shirt. However, no team has ever won anything in hooped socks. Ever. Well maybe Old Etonians in about 1600. And even then it was a kit borrowed from the rugger team and there were only three other teams involved. And they all had hooped socks too. And organised sport was actually a thing of the future. Go and check it out. I know you won't. Sort it Errea.
After the universal disgust at last season's Parslow Point, the most upsetting aspect of last night's game at Chester was Town's choice of socks. That and perhaps the naffest named stadium we've visited. The 'Lookers Vauxhall Stadium'. Not even the good manners to be just the 'Vauxhall Stadium' but instead some car dealership. Shocking. I'm tempted to say 'tinpot'. Give the Town board's ineptness some credit – they haven't been able to find someone to commit this atrocity at Blundell Park.
As for the actual football, if you're going to draw a game, that's probably the way to do it. Pádraig Amond's neat header obviously wasn't as dramatic as Wayne Burnett's against Bournemouth in '98 but it arrived almost as late. As well as rescuing a point, it also extended our incredible away scoring record to 27, 28 or 29 games depending on who you speak to and whether play-off games and Wembley count. By crikey they counted to me.
In a sense it's a result that keeps everyone happy. The moaners, who are never happier than when they are moaning, can wallow in the fact that we are still rubbish and need to change the manager. They'll point at Forest Green finally losing and us not taking full advantage. I'd consider the micro-analysis of every result and game to be mostly futile. Last night's XI was maybe a Clay away from the side that everyone would pick. By all accounts we put on an attacking performance against a half decent team. We created some clear chances but our top scorer didn't quite get the job done.
My own reservations haven't gone away (and are primed to be unleashed as a 4,000-word rant in the event of a three-match losing streak), but I still think that we are guaranteed a playoff spot. And we're a 15- to 20-match streak from being top of the table when it really matters. That run may have started already. Anybody expecting fireworks to announce Town's transformation into a relentless winning machine that cruises to the title hasn't been paying attention over the last 40 years. That's not what we do.
Hopefully Omar misfiring will prove to be a one-off. With the weight of a transfer fee and a Makofo-length deal on his broad shoulders, he has made a really good start. However, yesterday my eldest came home from school with a mix of excitement and concern at being given a book called The Curse of the Bogle's Beard for his reading assignment. Listening to each missed chance last night added to his unease. I've left it up to him if he wants to take the morning off school to send some disposable Bic razors to Blundell Park.
Brodie did the decent thing at the weekend and paraded all his bad qualities. Ross Hannah obviously didn't get the memo. I was hoping for him to spend the night offside. Instead he ran around and did what you fear scorned exes will do. Incidentally, did anyone notice the merry cheer that Sam Hatton received on Saturday? As the player who nailed the coffin shut and pushed it into the hole in 2014, the welcome seemed a little too friendly.
My only explanation is that we wanted to show Brodie that we don't dislike all ex-players, just the total and utter wallies. I'd like to use a stronger term here but my Mum has commented on my use of bad language in the diary. I am not worried about her seeing me swear in print - her condoning of it as good for my 'street cred' is the problem. The horror. I haven't needed help from my Mum with 'street cred' since, well this morning when I noticed I had combined a cufflink shirt and Converse runners. Town's hooped socks should be the least of my fashion worries.
Listening to the game on the radio was, as usual, challenging. Every opposition attack sounds like a goal is inevitable and every Town foul has a possibility of a straight red. As for John Tondeur, no man should be exposed to that much GTFC in a professional capacity. In other industries prolonged repeated exposure to hazards like loud noise or asbestos would be countered with appropriate safety equipment. Poor old JT just gets a furry thingy for his mic and the soothing company of assorted ex-Town favourites.
The stress levels were already on the rise when the commentary died briefly and condemned us to coverage of the Hully Gullies top of the table clash with Cardiff. As annoying exes go, Russ Slade isn't quite dating a supermodel now but managing Cardiff at the top end of Division Two is definitely Hollyoaks actress standard. Stress management techniques were fully engaged when Hannah who incredibly didn't get caught offside once, took his tumble for the penalty. Get me out of here, anywhere less stressful will do, like being stuffed into a cosy MRI machine with those deafening banging magnets….or that time when my flight hit bad turbulence and the captain had to yell at everyone to stop blubbing as we still had one good engine.
Anyway, a point gained and no time to dwell on it. We've Tranmere and Wagner to look forward to on Friday night and Wrexham and Forest Green on the horizon after that. I don't think we've any upcoming exes to worry about - just Nathan Blissett bagging a 'perfect' hat-trick in response to my regular derision. He must be a regular reader by now. Regardless, the next few weeks could define the season. Town need to roll up their sleeves and get back to work. Which is just what I am about to do after I remove these ridiculous cufflinks.