Cod Almighty | Diary

Good Day Sunshine

5 December 2025

It's been a long time coming. Years of hurt and abuse. Average, they said. Nothing special, they said, in their antipodean, vowel-stretching drawl. He'll never do it, he can't hack it, the pressure's too much, not the best, not even at the top of the rest. Loser. Clown. Well, not anymore. Now the loser's turned and thrilled us all with a dizzying display of strength, skill and patience, topped by a crashing, record-breaking last-wicket stand. Take a bow, Joe Root.

By the time you're reading this, Australia may already have a first-innings lead and your A46 Diary will be crying into his Friday school-dinner chips, but right now, folded happily into a very British early evening winter darkness I'm dreaming of sunshine down under.

Is there anything better than sport to give us sunshine dreams? Everything else in life is so scripted, so expected, so mundane. I love the cinema, the theatre, a good book, a conversation, a cool pint, rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and giving new supernatural series the chance to thrill me (they rarely do), but it's sport that makes me sit up, makes my eyes open, my heart race. Only sport gives us a Joe Root century against Australia and a Vernam goal against Manchester United.

And now, in the dark days of early December, we have sunshine dreams of Wembley weather in May. Wealdstone tomorrow. The Stones. Last year's Blundell terrorists, sneaking their bomb into the last minute, and blowing us all away. A tattered, sparse silence greeted the end of that game. Artell delivered one of his double-edged drolleries when asked about how it felt last season to lose to them: "it was good preparation for this last month," he chuckled. Dryly. Slyly. Knowingly. Because of the recent run, I'm more impatient than charmed by his peculiar brand of witticisms.

He does have a point, I suppose. How we lose is as important as how we win. Just because we've had too much of the former recently doesn't mean we should lose sight or sensation of the tiny sliver of sanity that's holding us together right now. Laughter being the best medicine, is one of those clichés that rings particularly true, so a little gallows humour before what could be a new low in a couple of months of lows is probably the best way forward.

What would help is more options, particularly in defence. Doug Tharme has played a game of football! But probably still won't be back in the first team till after Christmas. Sweeney isn't ready yet. Lavelle isn't ready yet. JSB scored for the reserves! But he's still "finding his feet in men's football." Artell broke out the old guns with his "I've got the potential to be Prime Minister" joke to emphasise that we shouldn't expect too much or put too much pressure on a lad who's proved nothing yet. Svanthorsen's boot was just a precaution! But there is an injury of some kind that we must be careful with, and he's been home for a week, anyway, for "compassionate reasons." Hope is all well, Jase. Greeny could be back! That's it, it's true, he could be back. Yay!

Need to take some of those chances we're creating. Need a win. Could do with a clean sheet. Need to stop talking about nothing but injuries! Need a reason to smile that isn't the boss's gallows dad jokes. Need a Root-like performance from some calm, capable heads. Sounds like we need a cup game. Let's get down to BP tomorrow and find some of those moments that only happen in sport.