The Diary

Cod Almighty | Diary

It's time for some common sense

28 November 2024

Here we are with mid-morning matters on Radio Blunderside, a pirate station hosted by your very own Guest Diarist. And I'm seething, John.

I'm back from two hours hectic sawing after deciding I could not face writing an angry diary in a room temperature of 8 degrees. So I went to get the blood pumping first. That Medlar tree has had a drastic haircut. Because I am not feeling charitable even to my beloved nature. Why? Well, many reasons, all to do with my beloved Grimsby Town. Let me briefly explain - and no happy clapping please, the time for that is past. And I am getting disenchanted with the 'trust the process' mantra. Surely even the most trusting fans can see we have some big problems? It is time they're brought in to the open.

I have watched every league game, and some of them twice. I have made allowances for an unlucky run of injuries, I have tried to think they were not actually so crucial because the young deputies might be up to the job. I have been taken in by a series of narrow away victories like I was when we fluked a home win and went top of the Championship for a few hours back in the day. I have told myself it will all come together soon and we will be comfortable in the mid-to-upper table region.

I have also watched every pre- and post-match interview with the manager. I thought it was me who was living in a depressing parallel universe at first and that maybe black WAS white and I am too old to see it anymore. This manager can see things I can't see, etc. But the only conclusion to draw is that the emperor IS actually naked. And he needs to be told to put some proper clothes on. And fast.

The tipping point for me came in the last home game where we did our usual flatter-to-deceive job, failed to score, then went behind at home with about 15 minutes to go. Instead of throwing on more attackers, adjusting to a more direct playing model and going after the equaliser, the manager, in his infinite wisdom, felt obliged to trust the process and carried on carrying on. The result was lots of possession, mostly around the halfway line with zero urgency to create chances. And the game fizzled out to another home defeat. Unless you derive great joy from watching sterile purposeless possession football the entertainment value was nil.

Afterwards Mr Artell told us the performance was better than in recent games, that the better side lost (again) and piled hokum on to blather. I actually could not believe my ears.

My simmering resentment had dropped below the boil by yesterday. Then I saw this advert exhorting fans to buy a half season ticket. Now I don't blame the club for trying. But what really pissed me off was the video, that made it look so exciting to follow the Mariners, was actually mostly footage from away games. I watch matches on the telly, and the home games show a mostly bored, sullen dispirited crowd with very little vocal support. It is just too depressing to sing when every game peters out so predictably. Can you offer a first-half only half-season ticket?

Back in the 70s, when Town went through a similar season of indifferent home form, me and my mate used to leave at half time and go to the picture house at the end of the street to get warm and to get away from the football. There is no escape these days.

Last season, after a frankly disastrous mini-run, the men in grey suits had to take the manager aside and give his head a wobble. He listened then. But are these new owners too invested in their data-driven game-model approach to admit that the current league position is more a fluke than a success? And that the trend from here is going to be sharply downwards unless something changes in the approach to winning games. The fans, including us overseas watchers, have paid a lot of money. We deserve to be better entertained. I don't care if we lose, but come up with a more attacking and pleasurable model than this one for god's sake. Stop endlessly tweaking the algorithms and apply a big dose of common sense. See yer.