Cod Almighty | Diary

Come back next Friday

17 February 2023

Our first – and hopefully not last – season back in the league is proving to be something of an emotional rollercoaster, is it not? The last few weeks have been a classic example of this. After the 5-0 defeat to Swindon we were the worst team in the world, and the transfer window was going disastrously. Then we beat Crewe and Luton and we were the best team in the world, and the transfer window had been a huge success. Now we have lost the last two and we are the worst team in the world again, and the transfer window had gone disastrously. It's hard to keep up.

If you read the CA Twitter account blurb you will see these words. "We like Alan Buckley, chips, proper floodlights, stripes, dogs on the pitch, outfielders in goal, social inclusiveness and a nice pint." This rather suggests we are a unified bunch, identical in outlook and values, wherein the reality is that I have no interest in a nice pint and if a dog runs on the pitch when we are desperately trying for a 90th-minute equaliser I am going to call it a woofy twat and tell it to fuck off. What is more, some of our contributors are so slim I doubt they've ever been within cycling distance of a chip. We are a bunch of individuals, and some of us fit less tightly into the CA mould than others.

Your BOTB Diary, for example, thinks that if we lose the next two games we are genuinely in the shit, and no amount of positivity can disguise that fact. Positivity is something I would put in the same category as superstition and astrology. It might make you feel better but it has no real life value at all, coming as it does from the same stable as magical thinking. In fact, it can distract you from genuinely useful life tools such as worrying. Positive thinking is the mentality that sends you into the Cairngorms in winter wearing flip flops because you're positive and optimistic and happy everything is going to be okay. Worrying is what makes you carry a flare and wear walking boots and a big coat.

The thing is, at this stage, we are on a bit of a precipice. If we do okay in the next couple of games the gap between ourselves and the hapless Hartlepoolians may start to look more reassuring. By the time I write next Friday's diary I may be lying back, drinking diet Lilt, eating a jam sandwich and looking forward to the Southampton game. Equally I may be wearing a hooded cape, pointing a bony finger at the relentlessly cheerful brigade and saying "I warned you!" in a voice like Barry White trying to get an awkward duvet cover on.

Tomorrow we face Northampton. On Tuesday we face the Harrogates. Come back next Friday. I'll have a more accurate picture to present to you then.

And what exactly are 'proper floodlights' anyway? Eh?