Cod Almighty | Article

by Paul Thundercliffe

26 July 2019

In the first of his weekly columns for Cod Almighty, Paul marvels at the unchanging, glistening simplicity of football

Twenty-two players. Two goals. One ball. It's actually such a simple game. It can be played in massive stadiums and on bobbly pitches around the world because of its simplicity. Symmetrical pitch markings that are almost 120 years old, instantly recognisable.

Nothing's really changed in that time. It's still 22 players trying to kick or head some inflated leather between the posts. A simple game.

Of course, we've had the evolution of substitutions, the amendments to the back-pass rule and offside laws. Even at the start of this season there are tweaks to goal kicks, free kicks and the rules on what goalkeepers can do during penalty kicks.

Despite all of this though, the game ultimately remains untouched, glistening in its own simplicity.

From looking around you today, you would think that football exists in order to make money, sell TV subscriptions and newspapers, fill social media and enable multi-millionaires to have a plaything.

But it's too simple for that. Its heart beats without the need for corporate sponsorship or tours to China. It exists despite Sky TV, rather than because of it.

We know why, of course. Our fathers and mothers know why, as did their fathers and mothers before them. This simple game belongs to the fans. Belongs to us.

The recent Sunderland documentary perfectly illustrated this. It understood what that football club meant to the people of Sunderland. You saw the pain, the anger, the joy and the angst etched on their faces every week. Following certain supporters on their weekly pursuit of happiness was enthralling and affirming.

As Town fans we are not alone: each club has their emotive followers who live and breathe every kick. What the documentary did was dig beneath the surface. You saw the impact that the ultimately poor running of a football club had – not only on these fans, but also, crucially, on the people who worked in the club. The staff who are not paid £80,000 a week. The chefs, the door staff, the media team, who also kicked every ball, but who also had to work throughout the uncertainty of what a successive relegation would bring.

We can trudge out of Blundell Park at 5 o'clock on a Saturday and forget about it for a week. For those who work at the club their pain is only just beginning, through the week and particularly during barren summers.Walking through the turnstile last Saturday on the cusp of my 38th season, the sounds, smells and sights filled up my senses. It felt just right. It was a feeling mirrored in faces around the ground, in handshakes and hugs cementing the start of another nine months together

Managers and players come and go. Although some are inextricably linked with Town, they are not Town fans. They will go and earn their wages somewhere else. Fans can't do that.

Four years ago today this feeling of belonging and community swelled and culminated in Operation Promotion and a handsome cheque for £111,193 handed to the club we love. Total proof of how a simple game affects the heart, rules the head and brings people together.

We may only have 4,000 regular attendees, but what else locally brings that many people together so regularly? Then there are the infirm, the exiled and the casual. Town fans one and all, brought together with a sense of identity forged through a simple game.

Walking through the turnstile last Saturday on the cusp of my 38th season, the sounds, smells and sights filled up my senses. Watching the players – some old, some new, some young – warming up on that symmetrical rectangle of green and white felt just right.

It was a feeling mirrored in faces around the ground, in handshakes and hugs cementing the start of another nine months together. This season may or not be successful. We may have new ownership; there may be some new rules; but the one thing that won't change is that all of our hopes and dreams will be funnelled through the 90 minutes of our very simple game. 22 players. Two goals. One ball.

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