Cod Almighty | Diary

It's not their game, it's ours

11 May 2017

Quite a lot has been said about Craig Disley already. Let Middle-Aged Diary just add this, then we'll move on.

There is, in my mind, a broken chain of midfield-captain-leaders. It began for me with Joe Waters. I was young, of an age where the roles of strikers, goalkeepers, defenders and wingers were well understood. Midfielders you paid lip service to, until Joe Waters came along.

Donal O'Riordan might have been another link in the chain, but Bobby Roberts needed him in defence. Instead, we had Shaun Cunnington passing on seamlessly to Paul Groves then the bad, sad years – could Paul Bolland have filled the hole? – until Craig Disley arrived.

As players, all those are far from identical. But what they had in common was the organic quality of unself-conscious leadership – no ostentatious pumping of fists, no badge-kissing, no mindless mouthing of "strong and stable". They led because that was who they were. As Ron Counte once wrote of Waters, you could put one of them in a team with ten marching Mariners and you'd still have a chance of a result.

And if it helps, there is this. Each one of them left, leaving us thinking we might never see their like again, but someone as good in a different way eventually stepped forward. And when they did leave, what memories they left us with – pause in your reading, shut your eyes, and countless moments of quiet Craig class play themselves out in your head. 

The rambunctious Alan Pouton might have been another link in that chain. He was a cult hero during his time at Blundell Park. There was perhaps something a little too self-consciously crowd-pleasing about his style for him to stand in quite the same esteem, and he is little spoken of today. He comes to mind only because, just after we had transferred him to Gillingham, he took his seat among the Town support in a game at Oldham one afternoon. It was an awful day – Groves's last with the club. We were even deprived of the right to chant for our money back by the fact that the tickets were free. Pouton sitting among us was the only cause the match gave us for applause.

In a farewell message that you are best advised to watch when you have a quiet moment to yourself, Disley tells us – no posturing, just a statement of truth – that he is looking forward to watching Town as a fan. He might try and slip in unnoticed, or we might raise the roof of the Pontoon when we see him, doubling the stand's capacity at a stroke.

We might raise the roof of the Pontoon when we see Disley slipping in, doubling the stand's capacity at a stroke

Amid this, we must say a word for Ashley Chambers, who in his two spells here must have come to hate the place, and the differently unlucky Dan Jones. Events conspired against them both. Josh Gowling, I fancy, will grow in stature, gaining an inch in body and two inches in hairstyle with every passing year until, as we tell it, he had to stoop on his way through the players' tunnel. He played his part – a significant one – in saving our club.

Jase Ives has emailed to lead us on to a different topic: the exchange of tweets between Accrington chairman Andy Holt and the Premier League. After some perfectly sensible comments about the impact of the top flight's conspicuous consumption on the rest of football, the Premier League chose to respond like this:

The Premier League supports all clubs in the EFL with Solidarity Payments and provides significant funding for their community projects and youth development schemes – all things that Accrington Stanley benefit from. It is only because of the interest in our competition and in Premier League clubs that we can support Accrington, the wider football pyramid and communities and schools across the country. We will be writing to Mr Holt to ask him if he wishes for the Premier League to continue the support we currently provide for his and other clubs in the EFL.

That, remember, is a response the Premier League, with all that money it spends on marketing and communications, has chosen to put in the public domain. They could have shortened it. "Fuck you, football" is what they were trying to say.

Jase joins the dots:

I can't say anything more on Dizza's release than what has already been said, but it got me thinking on a different angle.

At the time of writing, there is a twitter exchange between Andy Holt – the Accrington chairman – and the Premier League re money to agents, threats to withdraw monies etc. You won't doubt whose side of the argument I favour [see last Postbag – first letter].

But does this not highlight the opposite end of the footballing spectrum? You've an organisation that brand themselves the "best league in the world" yet treat others with disdain; money has the same value as Monopoly money. Then you've Diz: a career at four clubs, training diligently every day and displaying a fantastic attitude, a role model and leader, encouraging others, linking the club and its support, and playing the game for the right reasons for as long as he can. And as far as I can see, he never moved clubs for a fee.

Which leads to my question: what price do you put on a guy like that? Quite simply you can keep the Monopoly money. I'm far happier having had the privilege of watching Diz play for my club.