Cod Almighty | Article

by Tony Barker

12 January 2017

It was the greatest moment. But it had a chilling aftermath.

With or without hindsight, that was probably definitely not the best song to sing to the Scousers in their heartland. Especially as Mr Paul Wilkinson was about to pop in an astonishing 89th-minute winner at Goodison to send us Mariners into joyous bedlam.

The goal earned me a rising uppercut from my brother Kevin as he burst upward and the roof above us nearly came off with our celebrations. But the punch didn't hurt a jot as the adrenaline coursed through my veins at 1,000mph. I turned to Paddy, our barrow boy on Grimsby docks, and hugged him vigorously, as we were all engulfed in the nuttiest, wildest of moments.

What a moment. To paraphrase Del Boy, we'd only gone and bloody done it.

Then it was over, and we were left with one little problem: how to safely navigate our way back to the car as the scallywag savages would be a-waiting for us outside?

For about half a mile we stayed like sheep in the Town masses, but as they neared the coaches, we had to peel away to get to the car. We suppressed our joyous faces and tried to melt into the rest of the 26,000 gate, hoping we wouldn't have to try out our best scouse tongue.

This was life on the edge, having to circumnavigate various mobs looking for fish to skin. We'd get near to the car, only to have to turn back for our safety; trailing through scouse housing estates and not really knowing what to do for the best to survive this nightmare. At one point we were nearly sussed. I glanced down at my brother's hand to see that he'd made a fist with his keys sticking out, which he intended for our impending attackers.

And then, from out of nowhere, came our knight in shining armour: a black taxi cab, which we hailed by throwing ourselves in front of it, forcing it to stop. Hah! We jumped in for the shortest £5 taxi ride ever, as 40 yards down the road we pulled up alongside our car, got in and sped off into the Mersey night, our skins intact, adrenaline bubbles burst for one of the sweetest football drives home ever.

The song? Ask someone who was there. But get them to whisper it for fear of liability.

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