Cod Almighty | Diary

Wave your sausage in the air like you don't care

1 May 2026

The desire for revenge is a story as old as time. It's had bums on seats for oral tales, Greek and Roman amphitheatres, Shakespeare's Globe, cinemas and games consoles. From the Furies of myth to the impossible peace of Hamlet to the hollowed-out Punisher, its appeal ranges across the emotions, from a grim satisfaction at an idea of poetic justice to frothing vendettas of a sole purpose of existence. It's not healthy, but neither's pizza, and let's face it, all treats are better with salty sausage and melted cheese.

Is 22 years too long to hang onto a grudge? Depends on who's holding it, I suppose. Again, just like pizza. For those strange folk who can eat a slice or two or three and be satisfied, it's not the worst meal in the world. A 15-incher all to yourself means diabetes tests are probably in your future. In sport, at least, when it comes to revenge, a snigger or a snort or even a sneer means very little; not much more than a frisson of excitement on top of an already highly anticipated encounter.

If results go the way of the Furies there will be some, perhaps many, revelling in it a little too much and waving their salty sausages as close as they can to the faces of the Prenton masses. Twenty-two years is too long to hold a grudge. Twenty-two years is a long time to incubate a grudge. Have a laugh. Give them a jaunty cheerio. But let's not let ourselves down, eh? Let's be classy.

Tranmere tomorrow. I remember last season's trip to Merseyside very well. October, so much earlier in the season and still in the early phase of renewal; easily hopeful, optimism cautious, belief easily blown. Fast or feast back then – McEachran wasn't even the first name on the team sheet yet! My two eldest and I trekked over there, ate a curry, had a drink, watched Rose miss a penalty, Obikwu score from the tightest of angles, listened to Scousers' excited chatter over wealthy new owners. Our own excited chatter was all about this new team, this new togetherness, this new start after another typical season of avoiding relegation. We were getting ready for a new typical.

We couldn't help but temper our delight at the win with a grumble at another moneybags, Hollywood-glamour club to contend with – A$AP Rocky and Rhianna, you know. How's that gone for the Rovers? It hasn't. The pop stars' bid fell through and the existing owners increased the playing budget to make the club more attractive and extended timelines on another American bid. Nothing's moving. Except Rovers' plummet down the league. A Boxing Day win put them on 29 points from 22 games. They were a point ahead of us. Eleven points in 23 games leaves them fifth bottom and one of five clubs who could go down tomorrow. Harrogate are the closest thing to a form side and at home to Barnet. Newport have already-relegated (big swing in goal difference and perfect results aside) Barrow. Tranmere just need to not lose. It's Crawley – at home to Salford – for the drop.

We could do with a win to give ourselves a chance of the home leg second in the playoffs. But, honestly, I don't think that matters too much to us. I fancy us against anyone over two legs and as long as it's at least level after the first leg, home or away won't matter. I wonder if the players might feel the same way and save themselves for the extra games they've earned from this special season. That would make it Tranmere's game to lose, something they are well capable of, but I think it's not going to be too hard for us to stay classy tomorrow.

See you next week when, for the first time in 20 years, Town's EFL season will still be on. Till then, enjoy your pizza.