Cod Almighty | Diary

We are, in a non-literal sense, the champions

22 April 2026

Yabadabadoo!

Now, wasn't that something? 

Last week, after the Chesterfield Penalty Debacle, I told everyone it was pretty much season over and the playoffs were just some sort of crazy fever dream. The events of the last week confirm what most of you suspected anyway – I'm an idiot who doesn't know what he is talking about. We're right back in the thick of the throng with our hats at a jaunty angle. But...but...imagine the furthest distance you can, and then double it. That's how far we are away from playing Leicester next year. Because, as the wise old proverb tells us, there is many a slip betwixt cup and lip. Or betwixt league and lip. Or playoffs and cup. Or don't count your chickens before they've played Swindon. Or something. 

None of which should distract from a marvellous night in Cambridge in which our ever-magnificent supporters saw a performance packed with passion and endeavour. When Cambridge played us at the Blundells earlier they outfought us, outchallenged us, even bullied us. Since then we have added gentlemen to our squad who look like they could handle themselves in a disturbance outside a nightclub – I'm looking at you, Cooks, Maldinis and Amaluzors – and they found us a different proposition last night. Yes, they took a penalty straight out of the Grimsby Guide to Taking a Rubbish Penalty. Yes, Staunton's defending for their goal was such a classic case of ball watching they should use it in training videos. Yes, they hit the post and had most of the possession and the passes and the shootings and the whatnots, but we had the perseverance and we had the sheer will to win that characterises all succesful sides. Proud to be a Mariner!

Talking of Amaluzor, the Cambridge commentators last night spent the first half hour called him Amazulu, perhaps understandably getting him mixed up with the all-girl pop group who had a top ten hit in 1986 with Too Good to be Forgotten. I bet he gets it all the time!

The ref was good last night. There. I've said it. 

Elsewhere in football, Tranmere's second goal against Cheltenham last night is well worth a look. It was, shall we say, startling. And, Wolves seem set to be the first team in history to be bottom of the table before the season started (alphabetically) and remain in that position until the season was over. And, Leicester fans booed their team ONTO the pitch last night against Hull. It's all fun and games in the kerrazy world of soccer!!!

Saturday is on the way. Staring into my crystal ball, everything looks murky and confused. I see thousands of people. I see a poisonous weasel wearing a hat. I see nets bulging, cheering, disappointment, joy, fat people getting out of their seats every two minutes to have a pint or a piss at the Pontoon end of the Main Stand, and I hear a bloke in the Pontoon shouting out "c'mon Town, these are shit" after 20 minutes of play. The scoreboard, however, remains clouded in mist. Can't smoke in here, mate. That's better. No, still can't see it.  

We will just have to wait and see. Come on, Town. Come on, you Mighties. Glory awaits.