Cod Almighty | Diary

Every bird that sings deserves to fly

25 July 2024

Isn't there a case to be made for playing pre-season games behind closed doors? Glorified training sessions trying out half-formed tactics with tired legs do not make entertaining viewing. They induce panic and rage amongst the keyboard warrior fans and mild peril sensations amongst even the most sanguine. No-one has any idea how the team will line up for the first league game, or indeed who else will join the squad, so deciphering runes for a terrible season with a weaker squad on the back of these runouts is not a good idea. Money talks though - of course it does, so the pantomime season will continue unabated.

Your Guest Diarist is to be found in weeding, watering and harvesting mode. So there is time for contemplation. The new tactic of finding players who can use Town as a stepping stone to bigger things is a good one. A season with a Town side trying to play technical football provides valuable experience. A season putting a young player in the shop window can bring in valuable transfer profits with a lottery ticket sell-on clause. Everybody wins. The only downside is squad churn. It is hard to make someone your hero when they only play for us for a season or less. I mentioned on that Twitter yesterday how Alan Connell turned from a dreamboat to a footnote. He really was a good player.

The Connell thing came up because we've been asked to write about those chosen for the best twenty first century team, and he was a near miss apparently. I find it impossible to choose teams like that because I have trouble between best and favourite. Gary Croft was my best left-back but Tony Gallimore was my favourite. At one time I remember leaving the Rutland early most Saturdays to get in to the ground to see the warm up. Just to watch Gallimore fake it. All muttered asides, wolfish grins and half hearted jogging. And, like me, blessed with a glorious left foot. I was a minor footnote for Caistor Tennyson, he was a dreamboat for the Mariners for many years. But then Gary came back to us, and then settled in the town. He was very nice when he came to value my mother-in-law's house after she died. So, basically I love 'em all* don't you? See yer.

*well, maybe not Barry fucking Conlon or Peter bastard Beagrie.