Cod Almighty | Diary

No turn unstoned

14 April 2026

One last observation from Saturday. At half-time, as Garry Birtles left the pitch following his presentation and started to walk towards the Pontoon, he was hailed by Neil Woods and turned towards him. Both smiling, they embraced and remained in warm conversation for several minutes. It was an exchange of equals. Initiated by our youth team coach, nevertheless when he started to move away the European Cup winner asked another question and they talked on for another while.

No doubt they were catching up on people they both knew when they played together at Blundell Park some 35 years ago. As fans, we forget the strong webs of affection which must form between people who train and play together in a profession which mixes spells of intensity and close scrutiny with long periods of leisure.

I couldn't hear a word Birtles and Woods were saying, and even if I could it would have felt like eavesdropping on a conversation curiously intimate under 6,000 pairs of eyes. It was however wonderful to see.

Right, Chesterfield tonight. Let's not call it must-win, because it isn't, but our path to promotion is more straightforward if we do. A big game, and that can only mean one thing. Newbegin Diary is going to rake up some century-old stories.

In the 1920s, Town v Chesterfield was a bit of a grudge match. When they met in 1932, after a gap of six years, a Chesterfield band greeted the Grimsby team with Auld Lang Syne: the phrase "should old acquaintance be forgot" is always hospitable to a sarcastic interpretation.

Eleven years earlier, when Chesterfield came to Blundell Park in 1921 they had a man sent off, a much rarer occurrence in those days. The ref cautioned the Pontoon and the Town chair went out onto the terraces to try to calm tempers after a particularly violent foul by the visitors' right back. One Grimsby player, Billy Felton, was knocked out cold.

In those days, teams usually met home and away on consecutive Saturdays, so there was no time for the ill-feeling to abate. The Chesterfield crowd were riled by a particularly one-sided account in the local press of the previous game and there were extra police present. Strangely, when Felton showed the ref a stone and complained that it was thrown at him, neither the police nor the Chesterfield chair found a spectator willing to corroborate his claim.

So let's leave no stone unturned in our pursuit of victory tonight. The ghost of Billy Felton will be looking on.