Cod Almighty | Diary

Flap off you beak!

11 November 2020

BOTB Diary writes: Isn't it nice to know that even in these gloomy times, with darkness prevalent and the misty veil of autumn masking fallen summer's glow, and the government's response to Covid bankrupting, depressing and terrifying an already browbeaten populace into further submission, that football still has the power to royally piss you off? For God's sake McKeown! They're knackered, and all we have to do is not concede in the last minute, and the ball is safely in your hands. Don't pass it to a man facing you on the edge of your own area with two forwards ready to ambush him!

There has of course been another game since then. We lost 3-1 to Leicester schoolboys in the whatever-its-called-now-cup. The Town scorer was I-don't-care and the Leicester scorers were I-care-even-less. The only thing I chose to glean from the various reports was that we looked good in the first half and poor in the second.

The most remarkable thing about last night's fixture is how seriously a lot of Town fans on social media forums treated this non-game, despite never having taken a blind bit of notice of the competition before. I suspect it was remnant anger from Saturday that needed somewhere to go. After all, watching two players somehow throw away an unloseable game in the closing seconds when the ball was in our keeper's hands for chrissake is the kind of thing that traumatises sensitive football fans. And no, that isn't an oxymoron.

Do you remember, before teams were allowed 150 substitutes, the joy when a goalkeeper got injured or sent off and an outfield player had to go in goal? Managers would often select the shortest player on the pitch, just for a laugh, and every time he managed to catch a ball there would be a huge round of applause, inspired partly by relief. If he actually saved a shot the ground would erupt in a kind of grateful laughter and when the inevitable piece of fumbling incompetence occurred people would just shake their heads sadly, having known it would come to that sooner or later. What's that got to do with the present-day situation? Why, nothing at all. I just thought I'd mention it. You know, in passing.

Tony Butcher's Barrow match report contained references to Harrison Birtwhistle. Is this the ne plus ultra of the gentrification of football? Short of Alan Bennett doing the commentary on Bolton versus Southend, it's hard to know how it could be beaten. I've just had a mental image of Nigel Pearson in a tutu. Nothing to do with the above paragraph, it's just a problem I've had for a while.

There have been calls for the manager to take a bus out of town recently, answered by an avalanche of calls asking him to stay exactly where he is. I don't think you can judge anyone on this season. This season is dead. It is a dead season. Football without fans isn't football, it's county cricket. I can't take the league table seriously. Who is at the top? Newport? Come on! This is a circus. Who is second? Cambridge? You've got to be kidding me!

Both of these teams have an advantage in that they are used to playing in front of empty stands anyway. We are a proper fan club. Town fans can be capricious but they have contributed to victory more times than I can remember. I mean, I love you guys. You're my homies. GTFC is its fans. Without the Gladys Knight of its fanbase, a football club like ours is just a bunch of Pips. Would you be interested in the Pips reunion tour? I bet you wouldn't. I bet you couldn't even name a single Pip. If a Pip walked past you in Mad Harry's you wouldn't recognise him.

Anyway, time to take the midnight train to Georgia. Enjoy your incarceration.

Toodle pip (that's not one of them by the way)