Cod Almighty | Diary

Waiting

21 October 2016

Retro Diary writes: Shrewsbury? What, seriously? It would be like Klopp going to Scunthorpe. I’m a bit offended, to be honest. Anyway, I can’t wait all day for this wretched announcement – I’m going to distract myself by talking about the bag of wind, which let’s face it, is the thing that matters.

Tomorrow it’s a team who have given us an inordinate amount of trouble over the last ten years. Cheltenham, come in. It’s high time this relationship gained a dose of reality.

To the neutral, there seems little to dislike about this club from the lush, green western edge of the Cotswolds. They came rather late to the big time - they’re modest; provincial. They plug along. They don’t play in yellow at home – always a good sign (although the purple away kit isn’t too clever). They renamed their ground the "World of Smile Stadium", which is just another way of saying "don’t hit me, please". This year it’s called the LCI Rail Stadium, which is a little better, but like all commercial sell-outs, indicative of low self-worth. Do we begrudge them their place in the world? Not really, because ultimately we’ve got bigger things to worry about.

But actually we’re not neutral are we. My own abiding memory of Cheltenham is of being stuck on a stationary, gridlocked coach coming away (or trying to) from Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium, while Cheltenham fans took the piss from the pavement outside. That was, of course, until that memory was eclipsed by Danny Wright’s decision to tread on James McKeown in a televised game last season, a match in which Harry Pell’s diving also had game-changing consequences.

This is the same Danny Wright, by the way, who named his son Ronny 9 after his own shirt number, and in so doing burdened the poor little bugger with the numerical instruction, written into his very name, that his non-League footballer dad is more important than he is. Who would do that? That goes for you too, Beckham, although at least, unlike Wright, someone might know who your kids’ dad actually is.

Robins manager Gary Johnson is very wise and superficially affable – looking even more fatherly with his new beard. But the insincerity of his response to Danny Wright’s stamp in live interview spoke volumes, and will be hard to forget. But he knows the game inside out, and his tactical nous is my main worry tomorrow.

Cheltenham have embarked on their fourth division journey with much the same set of players as exited the Conference, while weirdly, Hartlepool have done much the same with ours. Town, meanwhile, have recruited a proper fourth division team from scratch, and now find themselves comfortably above both, and looking better-placed than either to face the future. We knew this day would come, but boy did we make hard work of it.

I’m not saying Town will just turn up and win tomorrow – that would be very foolish. Indeed, we may not. But it doesn’t matter so much now - the long years when Cheltenham could toss mouldy peanuts into our cage have gone. Nothing quite epitomises the misery of our last decade like our inability to forge ahead of bloody Cheltenham, and it’s high time for a bit of karmic realignment.

Last week’s win at Cambridge was very jolly indeed, although for me, the victory was in no small part down to the poorness on the day of the opposition, so I’m not getting carried away. One thing a trip to Cambridge always makes me wonder is why all football stands don’t have a first row which is elevated six feet off the ground. It makes for a better view from every seat in the stand, with no poor soul stuck watching ankles and divots fly past for ninety minutes, except, that is, when obstructed by folks leaving early or coming in late, balancing three coffees and a hot dog. I suppose the prohibitive leap makes dashes up to the pitchside after a goal rather difficult, and it looks a bit crap on telly – but are those the only reasons?

Until two years ago, Cambridge’s Abbey Stadium and Grimsby’s Freshney Place had the same owner – the Duke of Westminster’s Grosvenor property group. While our ailing shopping centre was shed unceremoniously from the gazillionaire Duke’s portfolio in 2014, the Abbey, on the other hand, is his new pet project. All three sides apart from the away end are to be rebuilt, with various add-ons, to create a sustainable business with the football team at its heart. The new, rather modest, capacity of 11,000+ is, according to StadiumDB (get this), "expected to establish Cambridge as a Championship side". Oh really. "Expected"? Eleven thousand seats do that, do they? No mention of winning any actual games then? Okey dokey - see you up there then Cambridge – last one’s a cissy, and best of luck.

Back to tomorrow, would you believe, Danny 9 is suspended, having been booked for the fifth time last week. Such a shame, as the Pontoon were so looking forward to seeing him again. Harry Pell has served his suspension and returns, as may Dan Holman after a troublesome big toe injury, with his manager’s therapeutic words "get on wiv it yer tart" ringing in his ears. Cheltenham’s in-form Billy Waters, an ex-Blundell Park mascot, has declared that Cheltenham are still a better team than Grimsby, putting the icing on our team talk (thanks, Bill – cakes at your grandma’s later). For us, Ben Davies, Sean McAllister and Ashley Chambers are all out, and a mystery player is "ill" but Hursty won’t tell us who it is.

Before tomorrow’s game I urge you to re-read your original/regular Diary’s magnificent Wednesday offering. It will make you much more sanguine about the result, and you’ll never again want to visit Blundell Park without looking at the sea. Brilliant.

UTM