Cod Almighty | Diary

As players they are frozen in time, but their lives go on

23 January 2020

To start, two developments, one entirely welcome, the other very much not.

It is splendid news that the Lincolnshire Cup semi-final between Grimsby Town Women and Cleethorpes Town on 16 February will be played at Blundell Park. Middle-Aged Diary's congratulations to everyone who has helped make that happen. As ever, women's coach Dale Houlston provides a thoughtful summary of the nuances and the implications of the game, and as he knows what he is talking about and I don't, take a bit of time to read him on the official site.

Then spare a thought for Harry Cardwell. The forward has been waiting all season, and longer, to show what he is capable of. On Saturday, briefly, after scoring on his debut for Chorley at Aldershot, he must have thought his moment had come. He was taken off soon after and it has now been confirmed he has a torn hamstring, likely to keep him out for the rest of the season. His contract is up in May. He must be a young man very worried about what the future may bring for him. We can only hope he is getting the support he needs.

Now and again it is worth stating the obvious and reminding ourselves that the footballers we praise and blame are also people. I tried to keep that in mind just now as, aided by Wikipedia, I checked out the post-playing careers of some of the team of 1997-98.

Many are still familiar figures in Lincolnshire football. We know that Paul Groves is also still in the sport. To him I can add Aidan Davison, a goalkeeping coach in India, and Lee Nogan who until this time last year was assistant to Neil Aspin at Port Vale. He has a side-line teaching PE, which he may have fallen back on now.

Kingsley Black I had down as a player who would also stay in football, but it seems not. Beyond a charcuterie business in Majorca, it is not clear how he is making a living. Others, you suspect, were never going to turn coach. Peter Handyside is now a delivery driver. Then there is Tony Gallimore. Last week, the Telegraph reported he lost part of his thumb in an industrial accident at Seachill.

Gallimore you could never forget was human. I confess I had to check the impulse to scream at him now and again as he was retreating in the face of an on-rushing winger. Against that, there was always the shy smile when he had done something well, the team the scored and he was taking his share of the credit, along with some affectionate ribbing.

Maybe it is not what he wanted, but in a sensible world Gallimore would be earning his living somewhere comfortable and safe, with time to share a joke and a story or two.

Up the Mariners. And those who served us well.