Cod Almighty | Diary

Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs

16 May 2025

Your A46 Diary is thumb-twiddling in the springtime of our mild content, ready, poised even, for a summer of less mild excitement. Conjecture, rumour, outright guessing, blind optimism, wiser pessimism, angry indignation and monochrome zealotry wait in the traps, greyhounds with their hearts ready to pump, breath ready to be ragged, teeth ready to be flashed or gnashed, keyboard fingers ready to blur, hopes ready to be raised and ready to be dashed.

I feel like I need to add a little (naive) optimism to yesterday's diary's somewhat bleak assessment of where we stand with littler, weaker, predictabler, elvener fellas and throw my lot in with the butcher chairman's unbutchered belief that the top sausages are sizzling nicely on the barbeque of our summer satisfaction. The guys are great guys and the greatest collection of contracted great guys for many a year, maybe ever. The barbecue's ready to go, time for some brown-saucy signings on the 1st of June.

I liked the way Pettit, in his recent interview, kept repeating that date. Makes me feel like he's got something up his sleeve, a rabbit to pull out, or a hare to release for the greyhounds to chase. Yes, there'll be betting-slip tears, dogs put down, losers, suckers and luckier punters who win that big guy up front and that big guy up front and that big guy up front, but there'll be excitement too: who's he? Who's he? Check his FIFA25 and Football Manager stats. Hit the hashtags and hunt down the YouTube reels; that guy's coming and he's that guy, you know, that guy? Not really, but he's our guy now and we'll love him till we won't.

The summer is so much fun and this year will be no different except that it won't be desperate. The close season makes every chairman a summer Santa with a sack of delights. And every summer festive season in as long as we can remember it's been a Christmas of practical, affordable gifts: microwave dishes and cheap candles, Boots' three-for-two smellies and ill-fitting Temu tat. But not this year, this year we've got the basics, the kitchen's full, the candles are lit, the clothes even fit. This year, we're getting Scalextric and Hex Bugs, single malt whiskey and Japanese gin.

Will Pettit's sack bulge? Well, he only comes once a year, with a ho-ho-ho and, thanks to the elven Viking's mega minutes, an extra slot on the sleigh for another overseas player – and Santa's flying this weekend to somewhere new, somewhere exotic, looking at new guys to fit in with the great guys, then flying back to DN35 to stuff presents down the Blundell chimneys. And his list is long, he's checking it twice, if Hume doesn't re-sign, there are more items on the list, more wishes that can be granted.

Can he get the big guy up front and the big guy in goal over the line? They're the ones we'll be watching for, tracking that sleigh on NORAD, crossing our fingers and promising we'll believe.