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Cod Almighty | Diary

In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray finally breaks the cycle when he stops being an arse and supports his team

16 March 2016

Wicklow Diary writes: It was apt that Pádraig Amond used a towering, Tees-tastic head thumper to register his 30th goal during last night's otherwise frustrating game at Guiseley. He is the first Town player since Sir Matt himself in 1965-66 to achieve the milestone. In his sights are Tommy Briggs (40 in 1949-50) and Pat Glover (43 in 1933-34), the only Mariners ever to bag 40 in a season. He's four away from 30 league goals – Ron Rafferty with 34 in 1961-62 was the last to perform that feat.

Yet the Podgemeister remains songless – that modified Vardy party knock-off doesn't count (although I do agree with the x-rated half of the sentiment). Granted, there are some awkward syllabic constructs and a fada to overcome, but if we can't find a song it will be the saddest day for Mariner songwriting since I discovered we'd nicked the greasy chip butty song from Sheffield United. Bertie Mee definitely did have the North Bank/Pontoon conversation with Bill Shank-lee though. We know this because the rarely aired second verse contains the line "they're loud but have no song for Raffer-tee."

So if Podge rounds the keeper for the winner at Wembley to the tune of anything less than a 12-verse ballad for the ages then it's a sad disgrace. We're witnessing something special. Forget that we may not re-sign him and he goes to Scunny as their designated Irishman after Paddy Madden skips off to Leeds or somewhere equally horrible. If Phil Jevons can get one then why not Podge?

Perhaps songwriting is how we can occupy ourselves for the next six weeks while we wait for the play-offs. Last night's result was very very annoying. We had to find a way to win and we didn't. We probably played well enough to win and didn't. Put it down to intangibles or something. Whatever they are, we're missing them. If I knew what the question was, I'd have a go at the answer.

Maybe we'll have a run of five wins and the other two will stutter to encourage us to get the calculators and the spreadsheets out again. However, there always seems to a be a result like last night's waiting to undo us and stem the seemingly effortless momentum of the rivals. We've a good team capable of winning the title and yet we are missing something. It's a given that we'll beat Cheltenham on the telly to rub this fact in.

The play-offs. Like going in for a big operation. The surgeon tells you he knows what he's doing and there's a 80/20 chance of success but you're not looking forward to it. (The title is going for a second opinion and getting the all-clear. I'm struggling here; just go with me on it. Bloody Retro upped the bar for diary writers everywhere again with his snazzy prisoner's dilemma on Friday.)

The prospect is too much for some and the result brought the usual online to-do. Such a toxic, conditional attitude so close to the surface is not good for any relationship, let alone at a club facing the play-offs.

The atmosphere can work both ways – imagine the laugh we'll all have in the scenario where we get promoted and Paul Hurst rolls his rolling contract into a ball and bins it on his way out the door to greener fields. Thus avoiding the inevitable outcry when we have one point after two fourth-flight games. "Hurst needs to go, lucky to get us promoted, out of his depth, found out, blah, blah."

There are probably only about 12 people feeding this frenzy and I don't know where they get the time and energy for such negativity. I'm steering clear. Getting into a debate with any of them is the mental equivalent of voluntarily sawing off your leg to enter a one-legged arse-kicking contest.

If I'm online later today, I'll do something unproductive but positive – probably look at Dave Boylen's tweets.

Or tweet a couple of players and have them ask Dave Moore if he really went to sea on a trawler during an off-season just "to see what it was like".

I'll certainly be making time to buy a lottery ticket. Reading the excellent Mariners Trust newsletter, I learned that one of the well-deserved perks of Dave Robertseses's position on the Town board is laying out the team kit. A perk worth all the boardroom politics, agendas, minutes and any other monkey business. It's reinvigorated my desire to one day own the club and flex my benevolent dictator muscles. Hard work is one way to get there. As an, erm, back-up, there's the lottery. Don't let anyone tell you lotteries are a tax on the stupid. Absolutely not. They're a tax on the eternally-and-unrealistically-in-the-face-of-all-odds optimistic. The perfect trait for a Town fan.