Cod Almighty | Diary

Tinsel round the telly

21 December 2015

I don't know if it's just the run-up to Christmas that's making everyone a little giddy, but people seem to be saying some pretty odd things about the football at the moment. Let's be forgiving, though. 'Tis the season, and all that.

Take Paul Hurst's remark that Saturday's ground-out result against Dover represented "our best three points of the season". Festivities or no, the manager's detractors would likely seize on this as evidence of his defensive proclivities. Oooh, he's so dour, isn't he, he loves a 1-0 better than a 7-1. Clearly, though, Paul didn't mean it like that. He wasn't talking about entertainment value. He was referring to the satisfaction of not just riding it out against an ugly bunch of neo-Beckian hoofmongers, but claiming maximum points at the end. That's what he meant.

In the wake of Saturday's game your original/regular Diary has also heard people talking about that old maxim that playing badly and winning is the mark of champions. It would be very easy to retort that, no, actually, playing well and winning is the mark of champions. But people don't mean it like that. They don't mean every week. They mean when you have an off day but still win. Cut a little slack, can't you? It's Christmas.

Then there's the Lincoln fan quoted by BBC News in the context of Town's neighbouring fans becoming the most arrested in the whole of the English Conference. "In the past Lincoln have had a poor reputation but it's not as bad as it once was," he says. And you're thinking, have they? Lincoln? A reputation for football-related disorder? Really? Again, clearly he doesn't mean it like that. He must mean a reputation for football-related disorder locally – in Skellingthorpe, perhaps. Or Bracebridge Heath. Or perhaps he just meant Lincoln have had a poor reputation, and it's nothing to do with football-related disorder. Anyone who's had to watch them in the past 30 years would understand that.

And last of all today, let's take care not to misinterpret this touching seasonal statement from the outgoing Father Christmas of football, jolly Sepp Blatter:

"I am really sorry. I am sorry that I am still somewhere a punching ball. I am sorry that as president of FIFA I am this punching ball. I am sorry for football. I am sorry for the 400 plus FIFA team members. I'm sorry about that. I am also sorry about me and about how I am treated in this world of humanitarian qualities."

True, on the face of it, this might look like a stunningly arrogant response to an unprecedented punishment for a long period of very serious wrongdoing, with an almost Fentyesque absence of self-awareness, repentance, grace or style; a huge sorry-not-sorry-actually-fuck-you to the entire global football community Blatter has been shamelessly screwing, to the tune of many millions of dollars, for many many years. But what he really means is… er… um. Ah. Yes, sorry. Carry on as you were.