Every club has them — players who arrive with a hint of mystery, a sprinkle of promise, and an expectation that they might just surprise us.
For Lincoln City, Gomez Dali was one of those. He arrived as a product of the prestigious Nantes academy in France, a former trialist at Tranmere Rovers and Macclesfield Town, and a player once described as “quick, two-footed and strong.” We signed him in March 2013, desperate for a spark in our relegation battle. What we got instead was a brief, bizarre, and utterly forgettable cameo that still lingers for all the wrong reasons.
Let’s start with the cold, hard facts. Dali made four appearances for us. Just over 90 minutes in total. He didn’t score a goal, create a chance, or really do anything of note except pick up a red card that has gone down in Imps folklore — and not in a good way.
His first start came away at Braintree Town on a chilly April evening. For Dali, it was a chance to prove he could lead the line and help us fight for survival in the Blue Square Bet Premier. What happened instead was astonishing: after just four minutes, he was sent off for an off-the-ball incident. The referee, Lee Swabey, deemed Dali guilty of a stamp on Matt Paine. The red card was immediate and unquestioned.
One start. Four minutes. Gone.
Gary Simpson, then trying to steady the ship in his first spell in charge, was furious. “It was unbelievable to have a lad sent off in the first few minutes and stupidly, which I’m not happy about,” he said post-match. And yet, that was about the sum total of Dali’s contribution to our season. A single, idiotic act that earned him a three-match ban and effectively ended any hope he had of earning a contract beyond his non-contract pay-as-you-play deal.
What makes it all the more bizarre is the CV he came with. He was supposedly one of the best players on the pitch when Droylsden got hammered 5-0 by Altrincham — yes, really — and was described as the only half-decent player on show that day. He’d scored a hat-trick on debut for Stockport Sports. He’d played in the French fourth tier and trained in the same system Arsène Wenger once praised. But at Lincoln, we saw none of that.
I suppose that’s levels for you.
Instead, we saw a man who looked like he had won a competition to play for us, only to be disqualified for foul play before he even broke a sweat. He was gone as quickly as he arrived. A blur of red and a shrug of the shoulders. Curiously, even after the red card, he got a chance, albeit briefly, against Luton Town. It seems incredulous now.
In truth, Dali’s story isn’t just about him. It reflects the chaos and desperation that surrounded the club at the time. A revolving door of players, many signed on short-term deals or without much due diligence, meant that gambles like Dali were inevitable. For every Tom Miller or Alan Power, there was a Gomez Dali — and sometimes worse.
Dali was a gamble. A free hit. But instead of rolling the dice and getting lucky, we fumbled the throw and it bounced off the table. He didn’t drag us down, but he certainly didn’t lift us up. When we needed character, composure, and quality, we got a red card and a headache.
We’ve had bad signings before and we’ll have them again. But few have ever left such a minimal mark on the pitch while still being remembered years later. For that alone, Monsieur Dali earns his spot in the pantheon of Lincoln City’s worst ever signings.
And to think — he played fewer minutes for us than I’ve spent moaning about him since.
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