Cod Almighty | Diary

The Saturday before Christmas, then and now

17 December 2024

'Twas the Saturday before Christmas and just about every adult human creature was stirring. Frantically in fact, working their way down exhaustive and exhausting shopping lists, heaving city centres testing to destruction the impending season of goodwill. Not me. This was in 1987, and having recently moved to London from South Wales, Newbegin Diary was on a National Express coach, heading to Aldershot to watch Grimsby for the first time that decade.

A lot had changed since the days when visits to our great aunt in Cleethorpes were timed to coincide with at least one home game, so that we could stand on the Imperial Corner. It was the heyday of Margaret Thatcher (perhaps it still is) and her disdain for anyone who watched football had permeated the game. It was an age of perimeter fences, membership schemes, and, on top of the relatively new phenomenon of rigid segegration, talk of away fans being banned altogether.

At Aldershot, not so much. We went in through the same turnstile and although there was a small sign pointing out the away end I misunderstood it and went into the first paddock I found. My mistake became apparent when Town took an early lead, and I was the only one who celebrated. No one minded: they were more annoyed when they asked me to name the goalscorer, and I had to confess that the only player in the Town team who I recognised, from television, was the ex-Sheffield Wednesday star Terry Curran.

Curran had the ponderous skill of a player who has known better things and wants the spectator to know it as well. We did better out of Steve Sherwood, in goal that day, and a couple of seasons later from Garry Birtles and Paul Futcher. The chat with Sherwood on Mariners TV [login required] is a delight, but it is a shame it did not cover the matches when that trio gave our defensive backbone a combined age of well over a 100.

Older players percolating down the leagues, their speed still in their heads even as it is leaving their legs, is less common now. Nor, with pre-purchased tickets and allocated seats in all-seater stadiums, can we mingle happily, edging our way towards like-minded supporters, whatever the colour of their scarf. Aldershot went on to win 3-2 in 1987, but the open and generous enjoyment of the game in the people around me helped hook me back into the Mariners, and here I still am.  

Next Saturday - once more, the last before Christmas - let's hope that Grimsby deliver the result we hope for. Even better if Mariners and Robins were able to swap observations on the man in the Swindon dug-out. For fans of both Towns we have much in common that we could share.