Cod Almighty | Diary

99% of Gargoyles Look Like Bob Todd

9 December 2022

'Tis Friday, knee deep in the World Cup, and waist deep in the fourth division season. How are you feeling? Yes, you, CA reader? Weighed down by post-Covid and Brexit weirdness, or thriving like a gang of pink hyacinths in a wicker basket? Personally, I'm not a big fan of this time of year, and I rely rather too heavily on the ability of 11 strangers in stripy shirts to kick a ball into a net to lift the gloom. This ability has not been much in evidence of late.

Tomorrow, Tranmere. The Trannies, as they are known...what? Oh. Sorry. The Meerkats, as they are known, are slightly above us in the table but are suffering from a similar problem to ourselves, i.e. they are currently a bit shit. Both teams are sliding town the table towards the dreaded depths of Hades but have enough money in the bank to ensure a relaxing Christmas time beckons if a few points can be picked up between now and Santa's grotto closing.

Tranmere have the advantage of being supported by indie stalwarts Half Man Half Biscuit, whose songs include Stuck Up A Hornbeam, All I Want for Christmas is a Dukla Prague Away Kit and Dead Men Don’t Need Season Tickets. We have the advantage of being at home and being supported by lots of people who aren't indie stalwarts but are loud, proud, and unbowed. And who aren't cowed. Or Chris O’Dowd. Does anyone know what I'm talking about? I'm afraid I rather lost my thread, there. Given the inconsistency of our league form I'm not making any predictions. Let's just hope the game is on. It’s a tad cold out there. Put your big coat on.

Incidentally, on Twitter this week, someone wrote "a cold spell, eh? That'll be global warming!" As though global warming means there isn't going to be such a thing as winter anymore. Fucking idiot.

I've spoken before about people inventing new phrases for everyday activity like 'taking on water' (drinking) and 'staying hydrated' (drinking). Here's a new one – 'game management' (cowardice). Even at my very, very low level of playing the once-beautiful game, this concept has taken root. We go one up in a five-a-side game now and someone screams at us to "keep the ball" as though a satisfactory way of playing is scoring one and then doing the football equivalent of sticking the ball up your jumper so no-one can touch it.

England seem to be great exponents of 'game management', which basically seems to mean taking an exciting crop of highly talented young players and telling them to watch Harry Maguire and John Stones passing it back and forth between each other for 20 minutes at a time. Luckily, so far we have had enough talent to overcome this anti-football snoozemongering and progress in the Cup of Worlds, but tomorrow night I'd actually like to see us play a football match.

Japan needed to beat Croatia earlier in the tournament. At 1-1, with a couple of minutes to go, they had two great positions, but rather than try and win the game they passed the ball all the way back into their own half. I suppose they can now claim that they lost in the lottery of penalties and keep their pride. But, ultimately, it's a form of cowardice. If you think you can beat the opposition, try and beat them. Don't just hide in a corner until the referee blows for time and hope for the best. Someone has to win. Someone has to lose. Play the game. There are people watching.

After my retelling of my favourite Talksport moment last week my mate Deano, known locally as Ronaldeano, reminded me of this classic encounter between a listener and Talksport presenter Arthur Albiston.

Incidentally, if you ever meet Deano he might try and tell you that yesterday I executed the worst volley in the history of football. Don't believe him. He had a restricted view.

Hey ho. It would be nice to get a bit of fun back into football. After we've beaten Tranmere, of course, and England have beaten Mbappé and his mates. Hopefully, that is, beaten them at football and not that 'game management' bollocks.

UTM!