Cod Almighty | Article
by Alistair Wilkinson
23 May 2003
"Did you go on Saturday?" asks the man next to me in the tea bar. It's five or ten minutes 'til the start of another shift of wonderful frozen veg. And it's Monday, so the room is alive with the talk of the weekend's action on the green fields up and down the country.
"Yes," I answer, as non-committal as possible.
I know where the room's conversation is going – it's the same every week – and, apart from the question from the man at my shoulder, it has nothing to do with me. You see, I was at Blundell Park, while everyone else was transported to Old Trafford, Anfield, Stamford Bridge or even Goodison Park by the miracle of modern media that is Sky Sports. Better to be in front of the telly than at that ramshackle hut behind McDonald's, is the attitude of the majority.
"Lost again, didn't they?" remarks the man, barely glancing up from the red-top that tells him all he needs to know about the weekend's action.
"Yes, we did," reply I.
Come on then, get it over with. You know what you're going to say, I know what you're going to say, so just say it.
"Yeah, thought they did." Here it comes: don't mess about, I've got things to do, just say it and I can go on with my life. "Told you they were shit".
Ah, there we go – the first of many similar statements today. The man returns to his paper, wheezing in as much nicotine as possible while reading about Beckham & co before the start of the day's work. I let the room's elitist football conversation wash over me, while in my mind I'm still at Blundell Park reliving and rueing the missed chances.
The natural thing
Is it a disease peculiar to our town? I know the sales of Man U tops are probably just as brisk elsewhere, but do the people of other towns give their home team such a slating? Here in Grimsby it almost seems the natural thing to pick a team to support from somewhere else in the country, rather than plump for the team that picks itself. They choose a team, not to accompany Town in their affections as a 'second club', but to be the only one. Not so they can taste a little rare glory, but so they don't have to support Town.
The Mariners are almost seen as an embarrassment to some people. In this age of choice and the free-for-all that is the consumer market, Town are not a cool accessory to have or to be associated with. For many people even the idea of choice has been removed, constantly bombarded as they are with images of what they should have, what they should do, even how to support their team. All this is now taken care of for you. If you're told often enough what to wear, what to drink, and all the rest, then it's only natural that football will follow the trend.
For many the question is "why would I support Town?" Or to put it another way: why would you have Dunlop when you could have Nike?
For many the question is "why would I support Town?" Or to put it another way: why would you have Dunlop when you could have Nike?
I have chosen Dunlop, or I should say Dunlop has chosen me. The allure of football was lost on me till the age of 14 or 15. Now this is an impressionable age, when acceptance by your peers is more paramount than at any other time in your life. And all around me, seductively successful groups of young men and their allegiances to superior teams: Man U, Liverpool, Arsenal. Decisions, decisions.
Then on one fateful Tuesday night the temporary agony of choice would be replaced by the permanent agony of supporting Town. The 'old man' took me along to Blundell Park to see Town v Scunthorpe in the old fourth division.
This wasn't my first match there by any means, but it was the first time I paid attention. We won 2-1 after being 1-0 down: what drama, what atmosphere. I was hooked, the choice made for me, and no longer would I gaze at the greener grass of the top flight.
Until the arrival of fantasy football, that is. Which brings us back to Grimsby's negative attitude towards its club. Now, I must admit I do play FF; in fact I even run a league with my brother, which started out with a few friends wanting to "make Match of the Day more interesting". This has now exploded into a competition of 50+ teams with hundreds of pounds in prize money. And it is because of this situation that Town's army of knockers has had its ranks swelled considerably.
People to whom the back pages of a newspaper were just things to hold the rest of it together are suddenly experts. Give them a list of names and a pin and they think they're Alan Hansen. They throw in a fiver and this apparently makes them football fans. They will now scour the paper to see if Thierry Henry got them 'Star Man' and whether or not Sami Hyppia was booked. But Town are a mystery to them and anyone who supports them or, God forbid, spends money on seeing them must be insane.
"Why do you bother with them? They're rubbish, a waste of money." Or: "You wanna watch some decent football." Oh yes – decent football. Of course, these people wouldn't know decent football if it got up, did a few magic tricks and finished on a song, but then who am I to judge?
Who am I to judge? I'm no footballing expert. I don't read the game particularly well; I'm as annoying as the rest when it comes to 'talking a good game'; I don't even pay attention for the full 90 minutes (but at least I know it is 90 minutes). There are many reasons why I am not qualified to deliver a verdict, but one overriding reason why I am. I go – every week, rain or shine, whether I want to or not; and there have been many times when I really haven't wanted to. I'm always there. I have no choice.
Superior
Does this make me in any way superior? Well, without wishing to sound arrogant, yes – compared to some, it does.
Take the gentleman we heard from at the beginning of this piece and his absolute belief Town that are "shit". He's probably got a subscription to Sky Sports and watches a lot more football than me; he's comfortable in his knowledge that I'm a mug for paying £247 for 23 games of 'inferior' football, while his £30 a month (or however much it is, I don't really know) gets him 3 million games or whatever. His ability to judge a game is vastly superior to mine, with slow-motion replays, wonderfully tacky graphics, an infinite number of camera angles and of course Andy Gray and his untouchable opinions.
What have I got? I've got the experience of the game; I can relive the moment over and over again without the need for slow motion – because I know what it felt like. That's what's missing for so many people nowadays; they would rather be told how they should feel about a game, instead of going along and experiencing it for themselves.
OK, it's their choice, and I certainly wouldn't force my opinions on them – they're free to 'support' anyone they like – but why vilify Town in the course of that decision? The most common answer seems to be that apart from being "shit", Town will "never do anything". With some that statement is even made with pity: "I feel sorry for them really", or of course the classic: "It's not their fault – not enough people go."
Town have achieved a great deal. To have spent only one season from the last dozen outside the top flight of the Football League is a bloody miracle
Marvel at the irony of this pronouncement. For many the trip to Blundell Park is just too much effort. But for an alarmingly large proportion of those stay-aways, it is because they genuinely don't see that Town are anything to do with them and, as we touched upon earlier, are if anything just an embarrassment. Therefore they must be denied or even mocked just for being what they are and what they never will be.
I used to argue that Town are something and that they have achieved a great deal. To have spent only one season from the last dozen outside the top flight of the Football League is more than just an achievement – it is a bloody miracle.
That one season was of course our most successful to date. And all those knockers made the trip to Wembley or filled the pubs to see Town "achieve something", which they did – they achieved second-flight status. So where did they all go when the following season kicked off? Is achievement a temporary phenomenon? This argument fell on deaf ears. Without championship races and European football it seems there can be no 'achievement'.
So I leave them to follow whoever they like. I rarely argue any more, just nodding and smiling when my team are dragged through the mud every Monday. It's not worth my breath. I've given up. Let them stay away from the Park, continue with their Big Mac football and rejoice when they get "large fries with that". Let their hearts stay in Old Trafford or Anfield if that's where they belong. But please don't belittle what Town have achieved. For everyone here on the way there, if you need me I'll be in the Pontoon wasting my money on "shit" Town.
Do you recognise the Grimsby that Al describes, or is there cause for hope? Use the feedback page to share your thoughts.