Cod Almighty | Diary
Per capita, Milwaukee has the highest concentration of frozen custard shops in the world
26 February 2016
Retro Diary writes: I must start this week with a terrible admission. I went to see Grimsby, the film. Oh come on. Who's not going to see it. Really? I just thought that if every football fan everywhere is going to take the piss for evermore then I ought to know what they're talking about. As your faithful CA weekend newshound, it was all in the name of research, you understand.
I entered the cinema with a mindset of deep foreboding – damage limitation without any power to limit the damage. What the flip, I wondered, are away fans at Blundell Park going to make of this. We're really going to suffer – badly.
By the time I'd re-emerged, my opinions had changed. Far from being a PR disaster, I wasn't entirely sure that something totally brilliant hadn't just happened, and like all miracles, in the most mysterious of ways. In this film, Grimsby – listen to that: Grimsby – does nothing less than save the world. In retrospect, if those two boys sprinting across the pitch into the away fans had been wearing Scunny tops instead of the black and white stripes of Town, I would have been absolutely gutted.
So what's everybody moaning about? The main concern seems to be that the treatment of our town isn't fair. Let's start at the beginning. The film is called Grimsby. It is not called Stratford-on-Avon, or Canterbury, or Ambleside. There's a reason for that, and we need to have enough humility to understand this right from the off.
Although it was almost certainly the 'grim' in the name that got us the gig, our end-of-the-line location and several decades of awful planning decisions must have made the decision a lot easier. That there are other places just as bad is hardly an argument. Actually, in the event it didn't look much like Grimsby at all. Apart from being obviously fictional, what it most looked like was Tilbury. Funny, that.
This film has given us the kind of advertising you just can't buy. From now on, the one thing nobody's going to say when you tell 'em you're from Grimsby is "where?" As Town fans, isn't that all we ever wanted? If we hear the odd chant about elephants or fireworks, we can pass it over as jealousy, but with only ten away fans these days, I don't think we need to worry.
The only thing that really upset me was the fucking Yorkshire accents. We know this by now – southerners listen to us speak and hear something completely different. Don't ask me why – I don't understand it either, and I never will.
Places that really are great don't generally need to tell you. So please, no more special pleading. If you're bothered about it, then work quietly to make it better. New football ground on Freemo, please, would be a start
But there are still local people out there seemingly more bothered by the grotty backdrop than the eighty minutes of unadulterated filth and appalling taste. For me, this is time for us to show a bit of self-confidence. All this indignant “isn't Grimsby actually great” stuff has to be very carefully judged or it could just seem like a whole lot of hole-digging. The best thing anybody seems to have said in our defence this week is that Grimsby is "not as bad as you think".
Places that really are great don't generally need to tell you. So please, no more special pleading. If you're bothered about it, then work quietly to make it better. New football ground on Freemo, please, would be a start. Ta.
Tuesday's win over Woking settled the nerves somewhat, and despite having to survive the customary incomprehensible substitution, a much reduced crowd saw a victory that was comfortable enough in the end. Happily the 'Woking ten' didn't kick off in Harrington Street, and apparently club and fans are back to being one big happy family again. After Halifax the family was looking less like the Waltons and more like the Ewings.
In Tuesday's game, Woking's Guiseppe Sole scored a smart header despite being ill, then later showed one extraordinary piece of skill, before trying to chip McKeown from 40 yards. At that point I was rather wishing he played for us. With a name like Sole, how did Grimsby miss him?
Hursty seems to have decided not to take on the crowd this time round, which I have to say is very wise. If you're in your very first solo job, managing a team that takes 1,765 fans to an ordinary fifth division fixture 90 miles away in the middle of winter, you might question exactly who's spoilt. Anyway, it seems we can all cosy up again, hopefully pick up a few points and try not to think about the big place with the red seats for a couple of months.
Tomorrow it's… er… Woking. Interestingly, the Cards are more bothered about the Trophy than the league, which I find rather sad. I expect us to field a slightly weakened team, and them to chuck the kitchen sink at it, which might even it up and make it quite fun. I can't go, although I would certainly have done so had I been here. Actually I'll be in Lancashire – I wanted Fylde away, but two miracles in a week was too much to ask.
Tuesday's Aldershot away fixture has now been moved to 5 April, as we requested. This is because we play Forest Green next Friday on the telly, and we thought those two matches were too close together. This despite the fact that teams in the big European competitions have played Wednesday night then again on Saturday afternoon – a shorter interval – since the beginning of time. What happens if we draw with Woking tomorrow I've no idea, as this will leave us playing on Tuesday after all, which will rightly piss Aldershot off. It also means that if Torquay reach the Trophy semis, Aldershot will have no fewer than six consecutive away games. What a silly league this is.
Never mind. The nights are getting lighter, and there's still the chance, however small, that 200016, the year of the elephant, could be our year. Actually, in a way, it already is. Fireworks at Wembley will never be quite the same. UTM.