Cod Almighty | Diary
The one when the diarist failed to find a great quote from a Town related book
27 August 2015
Devon Diary writes: Last weekend I took the opportunity to properly introduce my girlfriend Tracey to the Mariners. Up until now she had merely been aware of them; I'd shown her the ground along with other landmarks – such as the Barge and the broken sign over Gullies' door – when we were back in town for a family gathering in June. She had shared my excitement over that remarkable pre-season. But there's nothing quite like being at a game, is there?
I'd intended to take her to Kidderminster but she was away at a hen do for the weekend, leaving me to fend for myself for that one. So I decided to convert her to the cause by means of a pilgrimage to Blundell Park to see the Torquay game.
My thinking behind this was twofold: (1) Torquay are my local team and I like the symmetry of catching both home and away games, and (2) simply that a first game on a sunny summer afternoon would be preferable to braving the freezing winds and sleet of a Tuesday evening in February. While I might get all misty-eyed (and runny-nosed) with the view of the shipping on the Humber from the upper Findus, I'm well aware it's not for everyone. It's still the summer though, and if Tracey wasn't totally sold by the walk from Cleethorpes high street and along Grimsby Road to the ground, then I would know that she's a lost cause and not to try again.
A trip to a home game, for us, involves a round trip of probably 12 hours and some 660 miles. After the M5, the M42 and the grind of the M1 on a Friday evening, the welcome sight of the M18 then M180 and A180 is a wonderful thing, with signs for first Grimsby and then Cleethorpes replacing those announcing "The North", Hull and Doncaster. Then the lights of the refineries and eventually the Dock Tower come into view and I can't help but smile. For Grimsby exiles like me it brings back memories of childhood and former glories, both our own and the Mariners'. Whenever I return home I realise how much I miss the place; this time even more so.
On Saturday morning we left the St James Hotel (it's more a time capsule than a hotel!) and caught the train from Grimsby to Cleethorpes, rather than have to recover the car the next day if we both fancied a drink. As the single carriage trundled through the docks I pointed out the sights: a different view of the Dock Tower; a bottomless Chapman's Pond; the Young's factory where I worked topping pizzas one summer. And I told her about that time back in '91 when lions had rampaged through the town centre after escaping from the circus. Did I mention memories yet?
Cleethorpes station was notable for its lack of Torquay shirts, much as Blundell Park would be in a few hours, and we headed for Steel's for the traditional haddock, chips and mushy peas followed by a beer on the high street before heading to the game. We had tickets for the Main Stand thanks to some absent season-ticket-holding mates so grabbed another swift beer in the players' bar before taking our seats in front of our friends' dad.
It was great to be there, close to the pitch among the crowd and at that point, as we sat down, it made the long journey worthwhile. Thoughts of the previous night's diversion round Doncaster and having been stuck at Gordano services for 75 minutes were replaced by the excitement of the kick-off. At that moment there's a little of that feeling I had at my first game. Memories.
As an exiled Mariner, I really appreciate my home town when I'm lucky enough to return. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, for sure. But as well as sentimentality, that distance allows us to step back and really appreciate something, to really understand it. Do locals take things for granted? I certainly did until I left the town to go to college. The ease of access to the sights and local institutions; family and friends; the things I grew up with and the things I remember from childhood but which have since changed.
Visiting now, I see that for everything that has changed, large or small, there's something that hasn't. The Winter Gardens is no more but Steel's Cornerhouse looks exactly the same (and the haddock is still massive); new houses seem to spring up each time I return; but still the bar of the Notts on Seaview Street looks just the same as when I first had a pint there. I can't quite cope with the Parkway so I navigate my way between the towns by the 'old roads' – and I'm still totally and utterly confused by the lack of an underpass near the Hainton – but the important things are there and the memories they trigger are everything.
I think maybe a lot of Grimbarians and Meggies, perhaps more so than many other indigenous folk of the British Isles, often don't appreciate what they have until they don't have it. Whether it's on social media or TV documentaries, messageboards or Facebook, Grimsby seems to have a vocal majority who just don't seem to like their home town that much or the institutions that make it what it is. "Things should be better and somebody is to blame."
The football club and its servants are often treated with the same disdain as the town when something goes less than perfectly. A wrong team selection, a last-minute goal, a wayward pass, a string of poor results, or maybe one poor result after a successful one? All of these things might see the crowd turning on the guilty party regardless of their performances leading up to that point.
Alan Buckley achieved so much but was sacked twice by the club, who wanted more when he was already overachieving, and so often he was barracked by the crowd for an attractive style of football when too many pretty passes didn't lead to a goal. His self-belief and faith in a system – which, if we were honest, delivered some of the best football we've seen at Blundell Park and some of our greatest moments too – saw him derided and in some corners of the support he's still sneered at. Paul Hurst got a huge amount of stick both at the ground on Saturday and on social media too for days following the game. Accusations of a lack of nouse, of the "same old Town", or that Hurst isn't the man to get us out of the Conference are levelled at the gaffer – despite us having arguably our best squad and style of football for quite some time.
Learn to love your town, Grimsby folk, and accept your club for what it is. Operation Promotion, the wonderful travelling support and the community feel of Blundell Park set us apart from the majority of sides in the Conference and leagues above too. We should make the most of it. The club is part of the town and the history of both are inseparably intertwined. If we can appreciate and enjoy both then surely good things will follow.
Oh, the actual game? Tracey's first game? There's nothing more to say about the match that hasn't been said already of course – but despite the first-half performance Tracey seemed to enjoy it and said the right things about both the referee and Torquay's less than attractive (I'm being generous) football (and again). We'll go together again and we're looking at the fixture list to see what's next for us, geography allowing of course. Dare I say she has the Mariners bug? Too early to say, but watch this space.
Yeah, there's a game at the weekend too, a local derby I gather. Not enough seats, etc, grrrr. I'll leave it to Retro Diary tomorrow to preview it rather than risk any former player jinx. You know who I'm referring to.