Cod Almighty | Article

by Richard Dawson

2 February 2026

Garbage in, garbage out.

And you may ask yourself - how did I get here? It's 45 years since that talking head David Byrne asked that question of us. In that time I have been up, down, briefly inside, and outside. The world was complicated then as it is complicated now; but then most folks put the world to rights in ten minutes over a cuppa or a couple of pints. Now the analysis is neverending - rolling 24 hour news, opinion channels, social media, endless podcasts. Political analysis, cultural analysis, handwringing over historical bad behaviour, you name it. And football analysis, wow, that has just mushroomed into being bigger than a big thing. I reckon that politics and football are converging, both blinded by a blizzard of technocratic babble-speak.

In the past, memorable popular politicians were mostly defined by charisma not by whether they espoused the right thing: Churchill, Enoch Powell, Thatcher, Tony Benn, Boris. Now the rise in populism is being accelerated, in my view, by modern government's technocratic, complicated thinking and stolid unmemorable delivery – blathering on about platforms, keystones, pillars and phases. Starmer talks about duty and a government of service. Farage walks with his dogs on the beach and talks about making life better without going into the mechanics of how to do that. But that nostalgic injection makes a lot of people feel good. The public feel weighed down by the former, especially when they experience no quick wins. So the ones recognised as 'real people', the Rayners, the Burnhams, the Polanskis, the Farages spot an opportunity. What happens next will be interesting, but I think the technocrat politicians have had their day and blown it.

What side of the fence am I on? Politics-wise I have always just sat on it. All I want is clear thinking and straight talking and an absence of weasel words. Fat chance of that, but maybe it is not too late to save football from the same fate. Simplify politics, simplify football, I say.

You could say Alf Ramsey bloody started it with his wingless wonders and the dropping of Jimmy Greaves. A bit harsh maybe. Time went by – players were better trained and got fitter, coaching formations evolved, player technical skills improved. But the game remained roughly the same.

Then came the IT explosion. Now it is all development plans, process and game models. You could say that one started for Town when Fenty triumphantly exclaimed "they've got a laptop!" when introducing the Shorty-Shouty duo. Paul Hurst used data but he also used his common sense – an ingredient that the algorithms seem reluctant to embrace, or incapable of embracing.

David Artell, for me, is an exceptional manager, but sometimes he gets swayed by the data analysis that gets endlessly pumped at him. In his first season the data convinced him that the defensive throw-in 'down the line' was a waste of possession and that the full-back should not do it. Last week he said that because statistically a goalkeeping sub was only required once every 254 games it was a waste to have one on the bench. Both of those introduce a state of mild panic in both players and fans. Common sense says that having a keeper on the bench (I mean you still have six other subs to choose from) and relieving defensive pressure by moving the ball forward 20 yards on the edge of the pitch is the right thing to do. I guess I am preaching common sense but you might term it pragmatism.

Don't get me wrong – using data to shortlist transfer prospects is an absolute game-changer. Stockwood and Pettit, as early adopters, have galvanised the club. But using data to create patterns of play which are drilled into players endlessly can sometimes make the game less entertaining to watch for the fans. And, as we have discovered here and there through the season, make it possible for opposing coaches to 'work us out' and use that to turn our positives into negatives.

Pundits (and an increasing number of fans) find it impossible to talk about the modern game without resorting to statistics, of which there are a plethora available. Do they really teach us much though? The example I always give is the 25-yard swerving, dipping shot which crashes against the inside of the post and does not go in being recorded for posterity simply as an off-target attempt. If you watch the game you can assess whether your centre-halves are getting beaten in the air without the comfort blanket the stats claim to provide.

Last Sunday I watched a football writer claim on TV that Man City should never have bought Guehi because the stats say he loses too many aerial duels. The other two journalists in the debate were open-mouthed (if that conversation had been in the pub and not on Sky TV they would have told him to fuck off and not be so daft). Impenetrable tech-speak started with Villas-Boas but has evolved into a routine arcane language that, when translated, either means little or results in a statement of the bleeding obvious. Fifteen years ago I used to quite enjoy tactical punditry on TV, nowadays the blizzard of stats to back any arguments just gets heavier and heavier. I say again, how much of it passes the common sense sanity test and is actually useful in better understanding the beautiful game?

Using data as the primary decision maker in assessing a player's fitness to play is an intriguing one. Playing through a knock has gone. Paul Groves would never be allowed to play 68 times in a season today. Artell seems to me overly cautious in bringing players back. There are very few one-week injuries any more. Players disappear for weeks, months sometimes. Mr Artell actually admitted earlier this season that he had kept a returning player on for six minutes longer than planned as he had not completed the expected running distance.

The sports science introduced has to be a good thing, of course it does. But it would be interesting to see, over time, whether the total amount of playing days from the squad in a season is higher or lower. My gut feels says we have less availability, not more – especially if you factor in routine precautionary team rotation. All the great seasons Town have had in the past relied on about 15 players. They played all the time together, constructed their own playing patterns, built their own team spirit and gritted their teeth through the knocks (didn't wanna let the lads down). I know, I know those days are gone. But abandoning that ethos entirely, well to quote Artell, the baby might go with the bathwater.

So, with the internet, politics and football, the genie is out of the bottle. The simplest of themes, the most beautiful dreams are now complicated into convoluted schemes. Every generation harks back to simpler times - Shakespeare commented on that. So did David Byrne: same as it ever was, same as it ever was.