Cod Almighty | Diary
Two miles from Old Trafford and all is well
7 August 2017
In a change to the advertised programme, today's diary is brought to you by Middle-Aged Diary. Irregular Diary is still handling matters arising from the weekend at Chesterfield, and hopes to be able to share some of the details on Thursday.
Matters arising for Russell Slade from the win at Chesterfield are the likely unavailability of Siriki Dembele and Zak Mills for tomorrow night's League Cup tie against Derby. No word as yet on the nature of the injury that led to Dembele being taken off. From the highlights, Mills appears to have been booked first for having the ball thrown to him by Mitch Rose, and then looking a bit cross when one Chesterfield player fouled him and a couple of others barged into him. Let's note Tony's judgement that Mr Ilderton had been more than perfectly good up to that point, and let him off with a quiet word. May that be an example to him.
"Highlights" I say as I was not at Chesterfield. Instead I was watching Trafford in their last pre-season friendly, against neighbours Altrincham, a team who have slipped somewhat since they were persistent prickers of our pretensions in our Conference years.
Perhaps because it is still early August so the whole if only we can just... cycle of obsessive speculation on Town's next match has not yet kicked in, but I was able to keep my phone in my pocket throughout the first half and much of the second. I was thus pleasantly stunned to find we were two goals to the good at half time. I even forgot that 2-0 is a dangerous lead, a mantra ever in reach when it's Town who have the lead, never considered if we let in our second. By the time I knew Chesterfield had pulled one back, I also knew we had scored again.
On Saturday, I picked up my fourth Town/Trafford association in less than 12 months. The first three all occured when an ex-Town player appeared for the opposition. "Appeared" is stretching it for the teenager I spotted with a Grimsby badge who I learnt was out on work experience. Not in the match squad, he chatted to me politely while his body language betrayed a certain anxiety to be elsewhere. That was, thankfully, a closer encounter than my reunion with Clayton McDonald. By the time I'd clocked who the colossal lump of a centre-half playing for the opposition was, he'd got himself crocked. Tom Corner I did take in, playing for Tadcaster, and a tidy game he had too, with a decent touch and awareness.
Saturday, though, gave me my first sight of a Town legend (in modern currency you become a legend when you have played 25 games for a club, yes?) as a Trafford player. Paul Linwood, you may recall, was the centre-half signed by Mike Newell and eventually released by Neil Woods after our relegation out of the Football League.
In the white of Trafford, Linwood did OK. Altrincham's right winger was roasting the Trafford full-back but no serious chances arose. That may have been because of wayward crossing but it also suggested he was standing in the right places. There were a few neat passes when the opportunity arose as well. Nothing stunning – just the kind of thing you notice when you have your eye on a particular player.
Today is apparently the 25th anniversary of the start of the Premier League. So for almost half my life, the typical fan experience has been promoted as driving to some glass and concrete bowl surrounded only by car parks and outlets, eating and drinking from franchise stalls and wedging yourself into a plastic seat to watch players with whom you have nothing in common. At Trafford I watched, beer glass in hand on a grass bank, players, players' relatives, club officials and fans mingling happily. In every day, in every way, I thank the lord I am not a Premiership fan.