Cod Almighty | Diary

Sue Barker, Sue Barker, she's better than a permanent marker

2 December 2022

Has anyone here noticed that Town could really do with a league win? Ooh, that's a bad start. If my reader can recall last Friday's diary, in which I displayed all the positivity of Leonard Cohen burying a much-loved hamster, they will be urging me to not make the same downbeat diary start as I did then. After all, the Mighties subsequently went on to dismantle the Bridge over the River Cam with ease despite their third tier status, with an Oh, 'tis Khan double strike sending us hurtling into the third round and a glamour tie against Burton Albion. But, you know, we could actually do with a league win. I'm a Grimsby fan and being in the lower half of any table brings me out in hives.

Predicting things is tricky this year because our opponents' performances seem to bear little relation to their league positions. Plymouth, top of the third division, were rubbish. Doncaster, also-rans in division four, were great. The only exception to this rule was Hartlepool who were bottom of the league and fittingly atrocious. I'm over the fact that they beat us though. I don't give it a second thought. Indeed I won't think about it until the anniversary of the occasion in 2023 when I will wear black shoes and play Shostakovitch's Twelfth Symphony whilst carrying a banner. It's what my therapist advised.

Tomorrow, of course, we play the Real Wimbledon. Despite once being the home of glorified thugs like Vinnie Jones and John Fashanu, not to mention glorified council rush jobs like Warren Barton's haircut, the Real Wimbledon are now considered good guys by virtue of not being the Fake Wimbledon. Wimbledon is one of those words that seems to get sillier the more you write it. Indeed it starts to sound like the kind of word Tony Butcher would make up for a match report. The ball bobblified across the six-yard box, took a wicked wimbledon off a defender’s knee and somehow ended up in the net.

The Wimbleys, managed of course by Bonkers Mike Batt, currently sit slightly above us in the table but have played a game more than us. Literally anything could happen. I just don't know any more. Good luck of course to our wonderful travelling army on the road to Wimbley, which is, incidentally, where my Uncle Peter lives. That's got nothing to do with anything. Just adding a personal touch.

If you're boycotting the World Cup, you can stop reading now and pretend that's the end.

So, the World Cup. England have so far beaten the mighty Iran and the mighty Wales, and are therefore red hot favourites to lift the trophy. As the tournament wears on and fatigue becomes a factor, Southgate's plan of getting Harry Maguire to put a foot on the ball in his own half until the opponents take a nap is looking more and more viable. Did you see Mexico and Saudi Arabia? It reminded you of how great international football was when teams used to venture into the other team's half from time to time. Memories.

VAR has been much maligned but yesterday they got it right. After painstaking frame by frame analysis of Japan's second goal, they managed to mathematically calculate to the nearest millimetre that it would send Germany out of the World Cup and the goal was therefore legitimate. Bravo. Three world cups and two world VARs. Or something. There's a joke there, somewhere, hiding.  

So, an exciting weekend of sport to come, Brian. We hope. It's a funny thing, sport. It can make you happy or sad. Has anyone else ever noticed this?

UT. And, furthermore, M.