Cod Almighty | Diary

Never underestimate the Germans

10 July 2015

Retro Diary writes: Last week I said that when the fixtures came out I didn't care who we played in the last game, because we would be promoted by then. Unless, of course, it was Tranmere away, but that seemed so unlikely that I didn't even say it. Well bugger me, thank you so much fixture computer, I found out that I do care who we play last after all.

At least Tranmere's Prenton Park will have plenty of room for our fans, for what we hope is a final-day celebration. We can cheerily wave them back into oblivion, just as they waved us into the fourth division on that hideous afternoon in 2004. It could be a day of revenge of the finest and funniest sort. But we must, must, be more than three points ahead of Rovers going into that last day. If not, and both teams are at the top, the consequences are too painful to even contemplate. I'm already worried.

Now, not having much money has never bothered me. But I'm gutted at not being able to afford the beautiful Paine Proffitt original, currently on eBay, from which the proceeds are already promised to Operation Promotion. Forget for a moment that Proffitt produces those exquisite artworks for other teams as well. It's beautiful, and it says Grimsby Town on it. What more could anybody desire. I want it, I want it, I want it.

Somehow such artwork serves to remind us that aesthetic excellence is not something strongly associated with northern backwaters like ours, although there have been honourable exceptions. In fact our inverted snobbery partly legislates against it. But I've never understood which law of nature says it has to be like this. Our lack of idealism has always seemed somehow self-fulfilling. Things will inevitably improve; not only because they must, but because they are already improving, slowly. But if things go true to form we will arrive at the new order well after everybody else has moved on again.

In a way which could never have been predicted, our football club, even without a shiny new ground, is actually leading the way out of the wilderness. In our town, only football could engender such an outpouring of municipal pride as we have seen in 2015. So many people travelling so far, and giving so much money. And with the sole aim, extraordinarily, of raising the quality of something that's both superfluous to everyday existence and of purely local interest.

That this is even possible is profoundly encouraging. Really, we should treat every aspect of our local environment with the same enthusiasm – our buildings, our public art, our institutions. But for some reason, only football seems to have that power.

The last time I remember such a modestly placed team raising so much cash was in 2005, when FC United of Manchester were formed. Four thousand people collected £100,000 to get that club going, in response to their dismay at the takeover of the 'big' United by the Glazers. Now they have a nice little ground to call their own in Broadhurst Park, and this year they will challenge Stockport for the highest attendances in the Conference North, just one division below Town. They are very likely to get promoted again this season.

Although there is much to admire in the way FC United conduct their business, by their formation they have created the most diseased relationship in the whole of football, and their very existence creates a welter of family difficulties which even their own fans sometimes struggle to define. Exchanges between fans of 'big' and 'little' United don't always make for an edifying read, and it seems that time will only serve to complicate, and uglify, matters further.

In my view, FC United must either disappear or break away completely from the 'big' United. Otherwise, United have got two teams playing competitive football at the same time, with fans who support two teams equally. This is a football crime of the worst kind. As we stand, if Town were to beat FC United, I think we can count ourselves as having beaten the 'big' team, unless they disown their parent very soon. Basically, they've got themselves into a mess with it. We should think ourselves lucky – when Town raise money we are, at least, united.

In comparison, on Wednesday, the exchange between two of our own town's teams was a veritable love-in. The Bradley Community Stadium started off packed with a crowd more than five times Cleethorpes Town's average, nearly three times Solihull Moors' average, and half as big again as Solihull's highest attendance from last season.

Things about the match that the paper didn't tell you are as follows: at half time Cleethorpes changed kits from Inter Milan lookalikes in the first half, to AC lookalikes in the second. By the time Omar Bogle had scored his goal, Town's fourth, midway through the second half, the falling rain had sent a good proportion of the exposed crowd scurrying back into the warm, leaving behind only those fans forward-thinking enough to dress for winter.

Pittman and Amond were superb together up front in the first half, helped by the calm quality of Disley behind and Gowling at the back. A feisty Scott Brown showed that a friendly isn't a concept he really 'does'. Tait got forward well, his rather foppish quiff flip-flopping in the breeze. Danny East looked worryingly right-footed at left-back.

There was, as you might expect, a gaping void between the quality of Town's first-teamers and their youth, with the honourable exception of young Josh Venney who looked a very, very good footballer in the controlling deep midfield role. One hopes his small physical stature won't hamper his progress, as the quality was there for all to see. Bogle is big and a nuisance, and showed a mixture of mostly good, but a few horrible touches. But that has, as Lenell abundantly showed, never been an obstacle to attaining hero status.

Derby tomorrow. No, the real Derby. I can't go, so I'll be expecting score flashes, thanks! UTM.