Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Marianthi Makra

14 August 2010

Crawley Town 0 Grimsby Town 1

I'm not a glory hunter. For as long as I can remember, I've been listening to bands that don't have more than 10 fans and frequenting venues where an audience of 50 is considered a triumph. But when I started warming up to the idea of following Grimsby Town, back in 2005, the club was doing quite well, with some very impressive away wins giving fans a much-deserved optimism. My first game was away at Notts County in 2008. It was a miserable day in February and Town drew 1-1 (a bad result back then). I admit that, despite always checking scores and reading up match reports, I used going to the occasional match as an excuse to have a drink with my friends at midday.

But there was some element of self-sacrifice there as well, in that I'd have to wake up at 6am to catch a train to the match (and make it to the pub for midday) - and I remember the moment when supporting Town became something of my own rather than something I did for my friends. Going past the abandoned Grimsby docks on the way to Blundell Park on a very cold Saturday morning, I knew that this place was too much like my hometown of Piraeus in Greece, and that I needed something to take my angry nostalgia out on.

And today I'm setting off from my home in south-east London to go to Crawley and watch Grimsby Town's first game in the Conference, and I'm on my own. I wander around Victoria station, deliberately mishearing station names to amuse myself for half an hour. Boring-by-Sea. Oxtail. I've printed out directions and the Cod Almighty pre-match factfile but there is a quiet sadness which comes from not having the benefit of the pre-match chats on the train and in the pub, the tipsy optimism and the brilliant company.

I'm still a reluctant fan and this is quite nerve-wracking. What if no-one shows up? What if I don't know which gate to go in to and end up with home supporters? What if Grimsby score and I get too shy to jump around? But within five minutes of having boarded the train, three people in Town shirts go past my seat and me being here is suddenly making a lot more sense. You are never alone, if you are a Town fan, I think to myself.

Crawley railway station sits at the bottom of a huge office building. As we leave the train, visiting fans try to make friends with fellow Mariners in an attempt to make it to the ground in one piece. We are all lost and although I've got my printouts, I still wish there was someone to say: "I'm a bit lost" to. It's a little metaphor about the way Grimsby found themselves in the Conference and how this is all too new, too unknown. In the queue for the bus, people start talking to one another, clearly surprised that anyone's bothered to show up for the game. "You a Grimsby fan then? Are you from Grimsby? Yeah." I'd better stay quiet.

But as soon as I get onto the bus, a Crawley fan shouts something about "smelly fishy bastards" and, without even thinking, I open my mouth and talk to the man standing next to me, a Grimbarian called John who now lives in Wansted; he made a last-minute decision to come here and is hoping to meet up with a friend. "Don't worry," he says. "You are never alone, if you are a Town fan."

There are three GTFC coaches parked outside Broadfield Stadium and the set-up means away fans have to queue up outside an office to get tickets. This is all very civilised and smooth. There are loads of Town supporters here, everyone is smiling and I find out John knows about Cod Almighty. I work my way up the standing bit, trying to get closer to where the action is without being noticed and I look through the match programme. It's beautifully designed. Nice one, Crawleys. There are still 20 minutes to go until kick-off but the away stand is already on fire. People sing, put their hands in the air, look anxious. John finds me in the crowd, so now we are proper comrades in this.

Surrounded by nearly 800 very vocal away fans (they are so loud that for a while I am mistakenly convinced they outnumber Crawley supporters), you almost forget that this is GTFC's first ever non-League game. Last season's relegation was an awful blow and the silence that followed it seemed ominous for Town. But for everyone here today this feels like a momentous occasion. And if what followed was a game that mostly reminded us of why the team is no longer in the Football League, at the same time this crowd here seems to believe that this is still football worth watching and that Grimsby is still a team worth fighting for. It probably won't last but for now it's elating.

The game starts with a couple of chances from both sides and the Mariners look quite spirited; but Crawley handle the ball better and they reach Kenny Arthur's area twice in the first five minutes. Is Arthur a really lovely man? He seems so keen to get the young ballboy involved in the game by asking him to pick up the ball from the corner and then high-fiving him, that I get all girly and feel like shouting: "Awww!" But I think better of it.

For 20 minutes, Grimsby look like they will never manage to get the ball past the midfield. Then the heavens open and the rain starts falling really hard, which slows the game to a pace that the visitors can finally handle. Coulson misses a good chance and, in defence, Wood and Kempson seem keen. The Red Devils are still the ones in possession of the ball most of the time but they make mistakes and about 10 minutes before the break, Connell leads their keeper to handle the ball outside his area and he is sent off. Er, RESULT! I think. Evans (spit) sacrifices forward McAllister in favour of... wait, they seem to have a 14-year-old coming in as their goalkeeper.

Poor Nick Jordan. Mere seconds after he takes his place in front of the goalpost, Lee Peacock scores with a free kick. Woohooooo! This is amazing. The away stands are delirious and Crawley fans are still silent. You wouldn't know they were there. I wish I could see better because I am dying to stare at Steve Evans' face. What a lovely moment.

The last few minutes before the break are quite scary because the Red Devils (argh!) are trying hard to come back and have a near miss with Quinn attempting a header which ends up over the crossbar. The worst is over for now and joyous Town fans are singing as they queue up for their chips in the pouring rain.

The second half is painful. As soon as the rain stops, the Mariners are once again unable to take possession of the ball and look constantly unsure as to what do with it when they finally get hold of it, so it never lasts long. There is still no action at midfield whatsoever and there is a distinct lack of initiative. The only player who seems to want for something to happen is Connell. There is hardly any action at all in Nick Jordan's area. I almost pray for more rain but the skies are clear now and, although everyone stays positive, I can hear whispers all around me that indicate that most people here would be happy with the draw. It seems inevitable.

We cheer ourselves up by having a go at Steve Evans. My new friend John realises, just by listening to the inventive chants, who Steve Evans is - "Ah, the Boston man!" - while someone behind me is explaining (beautifully) to his friend the story of why the Crawley manager is the target of brown-envelope-inspired songs. Somehow this makes the current score even sweeter. Come on, Town! This is important. Keep the ball, pass it, run for God's sake.

But the home side keep attacking and there are a few near-misses and our hands are on our heads, in that familiar, from the last two seasons, way. Somehow, though, Grimsby manage to keep things together by slowing everything down and there is even a bit of passion shining through in the last ten minutes of the game.

When it's over, it occurs to me to that the Mariners have won their first Conference game against Steve Evans' side (a reminder of the 2006-07 season) and the possession stats won't matter because no-one had stopped singing for 90 minutes. This is incredible - and, as John is off to meet his friend who was in the sitting bit, we are sure we are going to meet again at another away game.

It takes me about 10 minutes to get out of Broadfield and join the queue for the bus. I'm cramped next to a Grimbarian family with very broad accents who are planning the trip to Cleethorpes on Tuesday night for the York game, full of smiles and a throwaway optimism. I get back to the railway station with five minutes to spare until the next train into London, the Town fans are still grinning all around me, the seat is comfortable, the seagulls are making sounds I miss... I can't believe I was ever worried about coming here to watch the game. It's a privilege to support the Mariners. I'm not in it for the easy life but the precious few moments of joy are almost hysterical. See you at Blundell Park.

The photos and video with this report are also Marianthi's (cc by-nc-sa 2.0). Check out her Flickr stream for more awesome visuals of all kinds of stuff.