Cod Almighty | Diary

All the world's a stage

16 August 2021

My, my, my what a wonderful weekend for you and I, your Deviant diarist, with deferred Derbyshire dribblings and, finally Cyril, it was yesterday once more down Blundell Park. Oh how we longed for yesterday, though it wasn't such an easy game to play for those lunchtime legends with longer teeth.

Tinpot alert! Oh how we chortled at the decision to delay the kick-off for Saturday's Spireite kick-a-bout after someone, deep down, deeper and down in Derbyshire realised, sometime on Saturday morning, that the great big dual carriageway running through Chesterfield and past the ground was shut for roadworks. Of course with Derbyshire Police's track record it was 50-50 whether it was actually closed and not just a rogue, unverified Twitter rumour that was spread around town. I'm sure that within weeks they'll be re-opening the A61 and notifying the next of kin once again.

Shall we play call my bluff?

Alas, it was true.

What else is true about our trip to the land of the crooked spire? Woe upon woe. A loss! It must be dross and it sure makes 'em cross at the boss. Sort it Hursts! A McKeown mess up and some feeble full-backing had Town two down, but a tweak here and there neutralised those spirited Spireites who'd been pushing our little lads around. After half an hour there was clarity and almost parity and, well, we'll get to the charity match later.

Let's reduce the fat before the blood of Mr Purple boils: Town were better with three at the back. We still don't have any strikers but those wise Owls were not wrong - Little Alex Hunt is a clockwork orange. Tish and pish BOTB, your anonymous chum's prediction of 11th is far too glum – 9th is challenging but achievable!

But it's phoney war time, who knows anything before the first throw of the season?

And so to yesterday and the Broadley game, with that collection of lean and slippered pantaloons of yesteryear. Half had forgotten to bring their boots and half had forgotten to bring their hair. It's easy to scoff, especially as the matchday catering has improved, but what better thing to do than have a jolly jape or two down memory lane.

What a joy it was to behold as the old and the even older Mariners "shared" 11 goals, though Liam Hearn bagged a hatful, hogged the headlines and was hugged off the pitch by the hero of '98. How wonderful of Wayne. How wonderful to see so many people so happy just to be back home again, having fun with all their friends. They know there's nowhere else to go.

We all have a favourites: Pouton, Dizzer, Magnay, the one and true Macca and many, many more with spectacles on nose, and pouch on side. They all had their exits and entrances but one man in his time played many parts – hey that's Paul Groves for you. Played every minute, just like old times.

For all the backslapping on a sentimental journey, remember it was for charity, so have a little think about it – you can still contribute through this link.

Gosh, one more thing: he's a man with a plan. Josh Gowling is following in the erudite footsteps of Gregor Robertson and is a national grown-up newspaper columnist now. Have a read and wonder what may follow the second coming of the Short One and Deputy Doig. Josh's home is our home, and one day, maybe, he may come home.

Town: it's a family thing; it's why we're different.