Cod Almighty | Diary

All darts no heart

19 December 2024

Beware the robins. They may look cute, but they’re aggressive. They can even turn on their own species!

Sometimes, it feels like the script is already written. Town, unbeaten in seven on the road, travel to struggling Swindon on Saturday. Swindon, of course, are managed by the deeply unpopular former Grimsby boss Ian Holloway, for whom the game is his 1,000th in Football League management, so the media darling will have all his friends watching on for this one.

Naturally, the one story his mates at Sky won’t dwell on is his time at Town. They’ll gloss over that bit because it doesn’t fit the narrative. Who wants to know about his 2020 vision, anyway? You know, the one that led him to such glorious footballing hotbeds like Folkstone, Halesowen, Taunton and Aberystwyth. It’s a million miles away (well, 172, actually) from his zenith at Blackpool.

No. For the armchair fan whose club he hasn’t touched, Holloway represents a bit of harmless fun. He’s a cheeky chappy; a quirky sort who speaks his mind and who will inevitably claim, at some point in the future, that he is being cancelled. I mean, just look at him. Listen to him. You know he’s the type.

But for Millwall, Plymouth and Grimsby fans, he’s the shifty, shafty, duplicitous sort, a kind of half-man half-soundbite. Façades are hard to maintain; they need to last a lifetime, so they require effort. He hasn’t got the energy, and the mask slips. It’s much easier to live your life as yourself, and not pretend you’re mates with the fans while also being in cahoots with a morally bereft local councillor who courted a convicted fraudster to invest. What was his cutesy pet-name for him? Oh yeah – ‘Squeaky’. Are your toes curling?

"I've always had one at a training ground, or brought one in. Most footballers can get better at it." Wondering what Mr Holloway is talking about here, just four months ago? Bullseye! You got it in one.

It would be sweet justice to see Holloway’s team get trashed by the Mighty Mariners on Saturday with the whole world watching. We’re certainly bang in form on the road, and those Robins are all over the place. Trouble is, we want it too much. Don’t ask me why, but people like Holloway come out of these scenarios smelling of roses — which are typically grown in horse shit, remember.

There’s a win in Swindon, if you think about it. Ah, but for whom? That’s the burning question. There’s also a magic roundabout, too, which is a lovely description of the man in charge at the County Ground. You just know Ian’s got a spiral staircase at home. Have they exorcised the training ground, though? Will Holloway bear gifts this Christmastime? I guess we’ll find out come five o’ clock on Saturday.

UTM!