In search of the Aldershot

Sir Alex Ferguson’s view of the refereeing decisions that no doubt helped Fulham overcome Manchester United at the weekend was typically caustic – ‘It’s Phil Dowd so what do you expect?’

Well Sir Alex, probably no more than the collision of the posturing arrogance of Dowd with the pathetic insolence of Ronaldo, resulting in the inevitable dismissal of Rooney- simply a hapless victim.

Opinion will always be divided on every ‘big’ decision. And of course incidents inevitably occur at the other end of the field; the distance from the action limiting objectivity, with prejudice compounded by an in-built myopic view.

Without doubt Philip Dowd does get some decisions right…perhaps even some of the important ones. But on Saturday he was gifted a stage and supporting cast that became an irresistible force. His hubris a delightful counterpoint to the effrontery of Ronaldo.

For every decision his chest was pumped up, his arm extended in a manner demanding respect. His eyes searching for anyone to fix onto….. players, spectators, Sir Alex…no one was safe.

’Yes, I’m right. I’m Philip Dowd. And if you stand still I will engulf you with the power of my wisdom’.

The instant judgement, and emotional outpourings from Sir Alex, was never going to deliver a satisfactory assessment of Philip Dowd’s performance.

No, on reflection Dowd is simply a victim of the avarice that pervades the Premier League.

Of course the love of status is easy to see in the flashing eyes of Ronaldo and Mourinho’s ‘playful teasing’ of opposition managers. But the pernicious contamination has spread unchecked, like the Black Death, from boardroom to stand….Toon Army to the Stretford Enders…..and with the art of Well Dressing confined to just a few areas of England, it was simply a matter of time before ‘the men in black’ joined the club.

Yes Sir Alex, as the suffocating blanket of irrational thought lifts I’m sure you will see clearly again……although for me it took fully six days, after Philip Dowd ‘took control’ of Luton Town and Aldershot Town back in September of last year……………

Aldershot Town’s post Christmas form has been dire. Bournemouth on Tuesday 3rd March was cold, wet and thoroughly miserable. We lost.

And then at Bradford City we were ‘stuffed’.

After the optimism that pervaded the Club around Christmas it was unsettling to experience a form inversion and a feeling that the season was starting to slip disastrously away. Gary Waddock certainly needed a rapid change in fortune if he was to survive.

The Shots managed to secure a pretty dismal home draw with Shrewsbury Town on March 10th….

It’s funny how a bit of sunshine convinces us that the battle with frost is over for another year. A few warm days and thoughts turn to evening skies that are blue and clear……trees shimmering with gossamer……and birds busy the woodland through…..

The sun was out when Luton Town came down to the Recreation Ground on March 14th ……and without Philip Dowd in control, at last we had a game to savour. Energy and passion replaced timidity and tiredness. And from memory came pace and confidence.

Luton were sent home pointless, and for them the trap door to the Blue Square Premier looks to be almost fully open, perhaps leaving them to spend their summer holidays checking out the delights of Eastbourne and Wrexham.

And then another win…….this time at Rotherham, set the heart racing towards the play offs. Only for the head to take control after the long trip north to Darlington, and yet another away defeat…

I was only five when the first Cod War started on 1st September 1958, after the First Conference of the Law of the Sea in Geneva failed to muster the two-thirds majority to adopt a 12-mile limit on territorial seas.

Even before the first Cod War the Royal Navy maintained a patrol in Icelandic waters for about 15 weeks a year. The mission of the Navy was to prevent any interference with British fishing vessels.

The Icelandic Coastguard started with seven ships and two aircraft, the largest ship was the Thor of only 920 tons. The first encounter involved the trawler Northern Foam when boarded by an unarmed detachment from the Icelandic gunboat Thor. The frigate HMS Eastbourne interceded and eventually obtained the release of the fishermen.

Then in 1971 the limit was extended to 50 miles, this would have a dramatic effect on British deep-sea fishing business so another Cod War was inevitable.

During 1972 eight British boats had their trawls cut by Icelandic gunboats. Despite political negotiations about limits and cod quotas the war escalated…….

And then it happened.

The British trawler Aldershot, out of Grimsby, was rammed by the Icelandic gunboat Aegir. The Aegir seriously damaged the Aldershot in the stern….she ‘limped’ off to the Faeroe Islands and the hole was patched up with cement…..now that sounds so very Aldershot!

The aggression levels increased and in July 1975 Iceland declared a 200 mile fishing limit. Serious contingency planning for a third Cod War started immediately as there was little chance of a negotiated settlement.

This Cod War lasted until 28th May 1976 when an agreement was reached after a Foreign Ministers meeting in Oslo limited the number of trawlers fishing in Icelandic waters and implemented conservation areas, including extra prohibited zones.

Iceland grew in economic strength outside of the European Union….…Grimsby died and the trawler Aldershot vanished.

But today as the economy melts faster than the polar ice cap under the radiator of global warming, Iceland is sending fresh fish to market in Grimsby for the first time in more than a decade.

And if I get to Grimsby in good time on Saturday, for the game that the Mariners really must win if they are to have any chance of avoiding the drop, then to the rear of the fish docks, the National Fishing Heritage Centre may just reveal the secret of the Aldershot.

Oh yes, and a win would be good Gary…….