Cod Almighty | Diary
Shalder, not shoulder
27 April 2018
Wicklow Diary writes: Now then buggerlugs, grab your lucky scarf and rattle for the last home game of the season at fortress BP. A fortress for the away team. We go into tomorrow with the worst home record in the division with a measly five wins. Do bad seasons pass as quickly as good ones? It seems like only yesterday that eager outlets were publishing league tables after one game and we at CA were eagerly grousing about it. Forty-three mostly awful outings later, here we are with one foot out of Guest Diary's swamp.
Are we allowed on the pitch afterwards, Mr Dale? Only if it's to carry our glorious leader off à la Bournemouth on Kirk Hudson Day 2009. You sitting comfortably up there, John? The directors' box? Nah mate, next stop Chapman's Pond for you and your voodoo economics. He saved us from the taxman when we owed £700k. Yet now we owe £2million. To him. That's some rescue. Like saving a drowning man by lassoing him round the neck and giving the rope a good yank.
Back to Kirk Hudson Day 2018. Original/regular Diary had the lowdown in 2009:
He is five foot eight tall and weighs 10 stone. He describes himself as funny and outgoing, and he loves his mum and dad, Ian Wright, Thierry Henry and someone called Biggie. He had scored only twice in his last 20 appearances before Saturday. But on Saturday he scored two more. Two goals which will mark the end of the lowest and most wretched spell in the long and occasionally distinguished history of a sometimes proud football club from northern Lincolnshire. Because the Town are staying up – and this is where the fightback begins. Because of Kirk Hudson. And you can keep last week's St George's Day and stick it up your arse for all I care – because from now, chez Diary, every year 27 April is Kirk Hudson Day. God bless you, Kirk. May your very being brim with victory and delight from now until your dying day.
Because the Town are staying up – and this is where the fightback begins. Except it didn't? You could argue that the fightback still hasn't started. According to my in-depth knowledge of lower-league players and an ability to type their names into Google, I can tell you Kirk ended up at Shoebury Town in the Essex Olympian League. Frankly, the non-League we were destined for in 2010 would have been much more appealing with a name like instead of the Skrillerama Blue Sherpa Van Premier.
There's been more than a whiff of 2008-09 about the current season. A similar closing scenario presents itself tomorrow. Outcomes aside, we have to hope that's where the similarity ends, on and off the pitch. Having approached games with steadily increasing dread for six months, a corner has been turned or a bottom bottomed out. How's that for tempting fate and jinxing our Jolley. Maybe tomorrow we can take care of our own business and not rely on the inadvertent kindness of strangers. If we can win at Swindon, anything is possible.
We brought some cracking teams to Swindon in the 1980s and 90s, but memories of my trips there merge into one long, 3-2 defeat. Yet last week we ground out the must-est of must-wins. Town looked like a team, not just a bunch of blokes plucked from the services on the drive down. Blokes, many of whom had long been written off by many of us. Credit to Michael Jolley, but also credit to the players for responding.
Have some redeemed themselves to warrant a player of the year vote? Steady on, mate. Anyway, boo, hiss. There should be no awards night, don't you listen to Mr Angry in the Main Stand? They're bloody rubbish.
I placed my vote all the same. Not a tactical one either, with the knowledge that for the past few seasons the Player of the Year trophy has come not with a free joint from Gary's Meat down Freemo ("There's meat, then there's Gary's meat") but with a one-way ticket out of Town. The award is obviously a nice accolade for the player, but looking back it also gives depth to the story of the season itself, be it a great campaign (1991; Dave Gilbert) or a poor one (1988; Don O'Riordan). You could argue that POTY means more in an off-year, celebrating an individual who tries to fight the tide all by himself. O'Riordan was that man in '87-88, his performances even recognised nationally with a place in the PFA team of the season.
Nobody has reached those heights in 2018 but Danny Collins and Luke Summerfield have been solid all season. Mitch Rose (pen), come on. The last three games have been insane, comic book stuff, especially considering the stick he received after missing chances in the previous two games. In the angry fug of a disappointing season, it's sometimes easy to forget that players like Rose, Hooper and Cardwell are still young, without many appearances under their belt. I know I'm guilty of it. Darren Mansaram was mentioned on Wednesday and I still cringe at the treatment he got in a similar situation.
I voted for James McKeown for the main award and Harry Clifton for the young player. I don't think it's a coincidence that they are all that remains of the promotion squad. A reminder of what we threw away, and a guide for how we have to build carefully in the future. McKeown has never given up on this season, even though at times during his career some fans have appeared strangely over- eager to give up on him. His performance against Port Vale alone was up with the best I've seen at BP. His saves last week were just as vital.
Michael Jolley spoke yesterday to commend Harry Clifton. He's not wrong. I think I'd have lost the plot in his position. At the club as a junior and then almost three years as a professional without a game for Town. When that game came, it was the final insult from Slade. Chucking him on when down to nine men in the new definition of a lost cause. Jolley has righted that wrong and Harry has earned his position in the side. I wasn't surprised to hear I wasn't the only one to get a tad emotional at Harry's sprint to the fans at the end of last week's win. See that, Hurst, Bignot and Slade? That's what it means to him and us. In a season when we've been crying out for spirit and a connection, these two have shown what it means to be a Mariner.
In other news, Ahkeem Rose finally has a work permit. It turns out however, that the ticket tout from Operation Promotion or 11-year-old Will McIlveen in 2004 had more chance of playing for Town than Ahkeem. He's not registered with the league and thus will complete his two years with Town without kicking a competitive ball. What a frustrating time for the lad; hopefully he'll have done enough to earn a contract for next season and we'll finally get to see him play.
On to tomorrow. County need to win. We've remembered how to win. Put all the other concerns to one side for 90 minutes. Blundell Park is going to crackle come 3pm. I can't wait.