Cod Almighty | Diary

Its never too late

29 April 2016

Retro Diary writes: The new kit is unveiled in today’s Telegraph. This year’s new feature – you know, the one that means you have to spend another 40 quid – is that the black shorts fade gradually into the white stripes above. I think I like it, although I’m sure my grandma would have described it as 'fussy'. “You don’t need ‘go faster’ stripes on a Rolls Royce”, I can hear her say. The red on the sleeves and shorts are too much, and the gradation from black to white on the front gives the optical illusion of a pot-belly, but hey, they’ll need something to improve on next year. Let’s give it a chance.

Tomorrow’s game away at Tranmere was the one we dreaded when the fixtures came out. In the event, we needn’t have worried - it isn’t quite a dead rubber, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. Tranmere still have something to play for - they must win and Braintree lose to sneak into the final play off place, that is unless Eastleigh (who also need Braintree to lose) can overhaul both by winning and turning round a four goal deficit.

Hursty isn’t worried – Town are safely in. Hey, we could even wave Tranmere back into oblivion in a delicious piece of mini-revenge, although if we have to play them again in August we could look quite silly. Whether we would rather play Dover or Forest Green in the play offs is open to debate - the effect on the latter of a managerial sacking whose timing can only be described as 'ballsy', remains to be seen.

It was an absolute joy to meet up in Cleethorpes with the assembled diarists last Saturday night after the Chester game. Town’s result gave us little to cheer, so we celebrated MK Dons’ relegation instead. The richness of the conversation highlighted what a profoundly fascinating time this is to be a Town fan – right now I mean, not just this season, but this minute, and for the next week or two. As we speak, so many things stand at tipping points. Tiny things could have profound effects - Toto trying to dribble his way out of defence, or Hursty dropping his top scorer to make it look like genius when he brings him back. The effects of Ross Joyce appearing over the horizon, right now, could be felt for decades to come.

A month from now, we could be safely promoted, never to return. If that proves to be the case, the last six years will seem charmed – a true golden age. We will be a privileged generation – the generation that watched non-league – and our cool credentials will be forever assured. We were there, outnumbered our hosts, used the portaloos with the views of the downs, and got the t-shirt. It was (mostly) fun.

But if we’re not promoted - well to be honest I’m trying not to think about that right now.

Despite promotion hopes still being alive and well, the occasional hostility of the home crowd when things aren’t going to plan has set club against fans once or twice recently, and creates another major talking point. I tend to think the players aren’t the target, but that’s just my impression. It must affect them though, because how can it not.

On Wednesday, the ever-wise Wicklow Diary looked back to the start of the season for the cause. I would go much further. The reasons are so deep-seated and complex that no current member of the club’s staff should be expected to really understand them, and in no way should any of them take it personally. The sources stem from cumulative frustrations going back to before the manager was even born – beyond football to trawling, unemployment, meaninglessness and mortality. The seemingly endless downward trajectory of our chosen Saturday release, in which we have for so long invested so much emotion, is for many, just too much to take. I would urge everybody on the pitch, sidelines and in the backroom, to see that the reasons are bigger than football and let it ride.

Having said that, it is simple good manners to try to gain some comprehension of what a moaner is actually moaning about; after all, it may be justified. How many people have to tell you the same thing before it’s just pig-headed not to listen? Yes, our support is unconditional, although there’s a thin line between it being unconditional and us being 'stuck with it'. But we’re not really going to treat triumph and disaster just the same are we, or what’s the point of any of it? The bottom line is we want Town to win.

So which of these things explains the hostility? It’s very complicated, but you’d be gobsmacked if the answer wasn’t “all of the above”.

The most profound and sad realisation of the night was that although we’re making moving home look like extremely hard work, the long goodbye to Blundell Park has already started. We have begun to see it, and talk about it differently - its little cameos and idiosyncrasies, like you might a dying relative.

But in order to relocate successfully, we have to understand some important things, like what a football ground is for. A stadium is to a town what a church is to a village. It is the highest point, metaphorically if not physically - somewhere where you are aware of life’s constancies; a place to sit and ponder who you are and where you come from. The questions we need to ask when deciding what we should do next are nothing to do with shit like access, or enablement, whatever that means. A football ground is a venue where the quality of the entertainment isn’t guaranteed, so the place has to be a destination in itself. We have long known that there is more to watching our team than mere results.

The questions to ask, then, before we can move, are: where in our town do we get the most powerful sense of loyalty? Of nostalgic resonance? And what would a building that we would visit for pleasure look like?

My guess is that it such a building would be either old and beautiful (and possibly eccentric), or new and of unique, stunning design. Anything in between is just a warehouse, and nobody wants that. For us specifically, I would say it has to be near the sea. Of course, design has to be linked with functionality, but the raw material is just a rectangle of grass, so imagination should be on a loose rein, space permitting.

Whoever is tasked with this decision should understand that the view from the top of the Findus is where we think most clearly about our lives, and can see who we are, stretched out before us. The wood-panelled bowels of the Main Stand are our haunted, ancestral corridors. The little spit-and-sawdust ‘lounge’, also under the Main Stand, is our shelter from the cold while we serve our calling, like the cabin of a trawler. And the non-view from the stand’s back row, and the mens’ toilet with the one-way system and the hand basin on the way in, our loveable flaws. The bitter, ozone-laden eddies which curl around the sides of the Pontoon are to us as sweet as a baby’s breath. Unless someone understands all this, and that this, and no less, is what we need to emulate, we are destined to make a mistake now so common that there’s really no excuse for anyone to make it it again.

Wicklow is spot on. Basically we need to stop making excuses and find a way to put the ground on Freemo or the docks. We need a far-sighted, belligerent genius with a will. And if it can’t be done, well we’re happy where we are.

Tomorrow’s team news? I think the window cleaner could get a game. Hey Tranmere, don’t say we didn’t give you a chance.

UTM