Cod Almighty | Diary

Because fact into doubt won't go

6 June 2024

It was much easier to write about the football club when it wasn’t run so prudently. Do you remember the glory years? When the Blundell Park offices literally hummed with inadequacy, and a seemingly inexhaustive slew of absurdity seeped out of every rusted pore the place had to offer, on an almost daily basis.

Back then, I used to write weekly diaries, and it felt like I was given more material than I knew what to do with. I found myself stockpiling diaries in case there were any lean times. But, of course, there weren’t. Some of my best material never saw the light of day.

These days, your West Yorkshire Diary only has to write one once a fortnight, and it’s a struggle.

There’s no insanity or poison being filtered down from the top. Everything’s just, well, sensible. That’s not to say everything is tickety-boo, but show me a club where it is and I’ll show you 115 charges of alleged financial mismanagement, or millions of pounds worth of debt, to prove otherwise.

Let’s face it: football has lost its shit. It’s gone totally stark-raving bonkers. Unscrupulous backers, donors, state owners, lords, frauds, and Americans. It’s not beautiful; it’s a mess. We live in a world where Rio Ferdinand repeatedly screaming ‘Ballon D’or!’ (as Vinícius Júnior scores a goal in the Champions League final) passes as acceptable commentary.

Ah the pundits, don’t get me started! Pure puerility. They make it up as they go along. They hold the referees to account, but who holds our pundits to account? Shearer says he’s entitled to go down one week, then claims it’s diving the next. Where’s the consistency, Gary? Netflix is already on with making Pundits Punditry (their apostrophe faux pas, not mine) — a show where former pundits analyse the performances of current pundits. It’s football punditry for the Gogglebox generation.

Football stopped thinking about what it needed, and began focusing exclusively on what it wanted, decades ago. This is what we’re left with.

But among all this modern-day chaos, we still have our cherished little club — being run sensibly, astutely, intelligently, in the background, ready to consult the fans on the next big issue, ready to play the next big game. We won’t win them all, but that’s the price of existence. Clubs far bigger than ours will go to the wall while we’ll continue to exist.

Boo! Sort it, West Yorkshires! No ambishun!!!

In a sport that’s drowning in its own pool of sordid wealth, the greatest achievement has become to simply exist. Three points on a Saturday are merely a bonus. Why push it and risk the story that’s continued uninterrupted since 1878? Let’s just enjoy the ride and see what this next chapter holds, under owners that challenge the injustices of what football has become while both securing and strengthening our long-term future.

And when I say ‘our’, I mean the GTFC community, which stretches far beyond Blundell Park, Grimsby, and North East Lincolnshire.

There's been a smattering of small newsy bits worth mentioning since yesterday's diary went live. The Mariners have teed up the localist of local friendles in booking a trip, if you can call it that, to Cleethorpes Town on Saturday 13th July.

And there's a strong rumour floating in the Grimbarian ether that the new kit — designed in collaboroation with Luke Matthews, a Grimsby lad who now heads up a global brand team for a company that sells the sort of apparel that's a little beyond my wallet (yes, I've lived in Yorkshire long enough to embrace the tight git persona) — will be unveiled very soon.

Yes, we've all seen how you've slipped those red pinstripes into your social profile badge, admin. UTM!