Friday, 28 March 2008
First one in to Blundell Park, turn on the lights
There are things that all of us Grimbarians and Meggies have in common. We all pronounce our vowels with a grinding rasp that could put a mammoth in a coma. None of us knew had heard of a balti until 2003. And we all love to go and watch our local football team once every ten years or so.
It may be, of course, that you're one of that smattering of social deviants who attend the Mariners' matches more often. You might even belong to that handful of dangerous obsessives who hold something called a 'season ticket'. But with Town having sold 25,000 tickets for Sunday's big match at Wembley, against an average attendance at Blundell Park this season of 4,200, it may be useful for us to compare and contrast the two stadiums.
First, both stadiums have a decent public transport infrastructure. Blundell Park is easily accessible by bus and rail (in marked contrast, it seems, to John Fenty's proposed new ground on the outskirts of Grimsby) and Wembley goes so far as to call itself "a public transport stadium". It may be impossible to get there from Grimsby by train in time for the stupid 1:15 kick-off on Sunday, but that's the fault of Sky, not the railways.
The managers of Wembley maintain a long list of items that spectators are not allowed to bring into the ground. This includes anything that features "corporate or inappropriate branding". Presumably no such rule exists at Blundell Park; otherwise there'd be no admittance to the Pontoon for all those scrawny 12-year-olds wearing Liverpool and Manchester United shirts.
Also on the list of prohibited items at the national stadium are cans, bottles and flasks, whether they are glass or plastic. Ostensibly this is for safety reasons. Realistically, it's so the kiosks inside the ground can charge you £5.50 for a cup of warm Evian.
But they need the money more than you do. Wembley's building costs hugely overshot the estimate, creating a debt of Humber Bridge proportions. Mr Fenty admitted recently that his proposed new ground has a £6m shortfall in its funding – but he also says that the cost of staying at Blundell Park would be the club ceasing to exist.
It makes you wonder why Lincoln, Rochdale, Hereford and indeed all 13 fourth division clubs with lower attendances than us this season aren't planning to build new grounds, because they must all be in even greater danger of ceasing to exist, but there you go.
Or, if you're one of the hordes who'll be at Wembley with black and white flags and face paint but won't walk down the road to see the Town at Blundell Park, there you don't go. See you in 2018, folks!
It may be, of course, that you're one of that smattering of social deviants who attend the Mariners' matches more often. You might even belong to that handful of dangerous obsessives who hold something called a 'season ticket'. But with Town having sold 25,000 tickets for Sunday's big match at Wembley, against an average attendance at Blundell Park this season of 4,200, it may be useful for us to compare and contrast the two stadiums.
First, both stadiums have a decent public transport infrastructure. Blundell Park is easily accessible by bus and rail (in marked contrast, it seems, to John Fenty's proposed new ground on the outskirts of Grimsby) and Wembley goes so far as to call itself "a public transport stadium". It may be impossible to get there from Grimsby by train in time for the stupid 1:15 kick-off on Sunday, but that's the fault of Sky, not the railways.
The managers of Wembley maintain a long list of items that spectators are not allowed to bring into the ground. This includes anything that features "corporate or inappropriate branding". Presumably no such rule exists at Blundell Park; otherwise there'd be no admittance to the Pontoon for all those scrawny 12-year-olds wearing Liverpool and Manchester United shirts.
Also on the list of prohibited items at the national stadium are cans, bottles and flasks, whether they are glass or plastic. Ostensibly this is for safety reasons. Realistically, it's so the kiosks inside the ground can charge you £5.50 for a cup of warm Evian.
But they need the money more than you do. Wembley's building costs hugely overshot the estimate, creating a debt of Humber Bridge proportions. Mr Fenty admitted recently that his proposed new ground has a £6m shortfall in its funding – but he also says that the cost of staying at Blundell Park would be the club ceasing to exist.
It makes you wonder why Lincoln, Rochdale, Hereford and indeed all 13 fourth division clubs with lower attendances than us this season aren't planning to build new grounds, because they must all be in even greater danger of ceasing to exist, but there you go.
Or, if you're one of the hordes who'll be at Wembley with black and white flags and face paint but won't walk down the road to see the Town at Blundell Park, there you don't go. See you in 2018, folks!
Labels: blundell park, debt, fentydome, new stadiums, parochialism, premiership, support, trains, transport, wembley
Friday, 23 November 2007
How I learned to stop worrying and love the Town
Town haven't always been rubbish, and at Barnet tomorrow they may suddenly be good again. But just now, it has to be said, they are a bit rubbish. So how do we bear this maddening state of affairs without going crazy? A range of strategies is available, each with a distinct set of advantages and disadvantages.
The most straightforward of these is not to support them any more. In its favour, this is an elegantly decisive solution, with no messy loose ends, and could save thousands of pounds over the years. Its one minor drawback is that it clearly marks you out as the sort of childishly petulant, weak-minded, thin-blooded, traitorous coward who is often found sharing the best lifeboat with the rats as the ship plunges fatally beneath the slurping waves.
A second approach is to keep supporting the club, but to call for the manager to be sacked. This is great, because it allows you to blame someone for the team being rubbish, and nowadays we need to blame someone for everything that's wrong, even if it's not really anyone's fault (or our own fault). On the down side, calling for the manager to be sacked can leave you looking silly if, as is very often the case, the manager is sacked but the team is still rubbish afterwards.
And if the manager isn't sacked but the team then does really well and nearly gets promoted, you can end up looking even sillier. Just ask the people who unfurled the 'Slade out' banner at Blundell Park two years ago.
To avoid these risks I have tried out a third kind of coping strategy. This is to keep supporting the club, without calling for the manager to be sacked, but to try and forget that you support the club when you get home from the match, until you have to go to the next one.
This is fine so long as there are loads of things to take your mind off the football, but it's that much harder to block out the rubbish match you just watched when you get home and remember that the new series of Doctor Who doesn't start until the spring.
It's also much easier if you can get home on a Saturday night and then not spend the next five days worrying about what to write in your next column for the Telegraph, or not have to write, edit or upload copy for Cod Almighty five days a week. Although actually that might be just me.
So it'll have to be the same old approach as always. Keep supporting, keep a sense of perspective – and win, lose or draw, there's always a pint at the end of it. Or does that just sound crazy?
The most straightforward of these is not to support them any more. In its favour, this is an elegantly decisive solution, with no messy loose ends, and could save thousands of pounds over the years. Its one minor drawback is that it clearly marks you out as the sort of childishly petulant, weak-minded, thin-blooded, traitorous coward who is often found sharing the best lifeboat with the rats as the ship plunges fatally beneath the slurping waves.
A second approach is to keep supporting the club, but to call for the manager to be sacked. This is great, because it allows you to blame someone for the team being rubbish, and nowadays we need to blame someone for everything that's wrong, even if it's not really anyone's fault (or our own fault). On the down side, calling for the manager to be sacked can leave you looking silly if, as is very often the case, the manager is sacked but the team is still rubbish afterwards.
And if the manager isn't sacked but the team then does really well and nearly gets promoted, you can end up looking even sillier. Just ask the people who unfurled the 'Slade out' banner at Blundell Park two years ago.
To avoid these risks I have tried out a third kind of coping strategy. This is to keep supporting the club, without calling for the manager to be sacked, but to try and forget that you support the club when you get home from the match, until you have to go to the next one.
This is fine so long as there are loads of things to take your mind off the football, but it's that much harder to block out the rubbish match you just watched when you get home and remember that the new series of Doctor Who doesn't start until the spring.
It's also much easier if you can get home on a Saturday night and then not spend the next five days worrying about what to write in your next column for the Telegraph, or not have to write, edit or upload copy for Cod Almighty five days a week. Although actually that might be just me.
So it'll have to be the same old approach as always. Keep supporting, keep a sense of perspective – and win, lose or draw, there's always a pint at the end of it. Or does that just sound crazy?
Labels: barnet, blame, cod almighty, coping strategies, denial, doctor who, managers, slade, support
Saturday, 17 November 2007
I don't like to be beside the seaside
The towns of Morecambe and Cleethorpes have more in common than their fourth division football clubs. Both are coastal resorts, currently recovering from decades of decline in English seaside tourism. Both have recently closed down major local landmarks. Cleethorpes' demolition of the Winter Gardens is a literally monumental act of stupidity – as was Morecambe's decision to build the World of Crinkley Bottom theme park in the first place.
Meggies definitely seems on the up, though. All those new cafés are a bit posh. Enormous red men now break bottles over each other's shaved heads around the Riverhead rather than the seafront. Property prices are leaping, and little kids on the beach can paddle and build sandcastles instead of playing the old favourite seaside game of guess-whether-that-sewage-is-human-or-canine.
It's all the sadder, then, that Cleethorpes' revival has coincided with a slump in the fortunes of its football club. Just as the resort has again become a place people want to go to, Blundell Park has become a place people can't get out of quickly enough. Even the most sympathetic observer would admit that one or two of the players who have turned out for the Mariners in this decade seemed less suited to professional football than giving rides to children along Cleethorpes beach.
There are plenty more donkeys in the fourth division, of course, and consumer-minded spectators choose to take their custom elsewhere. The people of North East Lincolnshire notoriously 'support' Liverpool and Manchester United rather than their local club – and while the great Eric Morecambe may have taken his stage name from his beloved home town, when he joined the board of a football club it was Luton. Comedy aficionados recognise this as the greatest gag of his career.
The Mariners' football, furthermore, at times bears a striking resemblance to Eric's technique on the piano. Right now Alan Buckley's players are making all the right passes – just not necessarily in the right order.
And even if Morecambe are enjoying their Football League debut this season, and the resort is recovering strongly from the 'Blobbygate' scandal, Noel Edmonds' theme park lasted only 13 weeks – roughly the same as most of Town's recent managerial appointments.
Like Cleethorpes, Morecambe saw a fine art deco building become one of its most famous monuments. But rather than demolish its glorious Midland Hotel, or let it fall apart, the town has rallied to invest in this asset and restore it to its former splendour.
And the only hope for Town fans is that the population of Grimsby and Cleethorpes can discover the same sense of what's worth preserving. If the Mariners are not to go the same way as the Winter Gardens, local people will need to demonstrate that they can tell their Crinkley Bottom from their elbow.
Meggies definitely seems on the up, though. All those new cafés are a bit posh. Enormous red men now break bottles over each other's shaved heads around the Riverhead rather than the seafront. Property prices are leaping, and little kids on the beach can paddle and build sandcastles instead of playing the old favourite seaside game of guess-whether-that-sewage-is-human-or-canine.
It's all the sadder, then, that Cleethorpes' revival has coincided with a slump in the fortunes of its football club. Just as the resort has again become a place people want to go to, Blundell Park has become a place people can't get out of quickly enough. Even the most sympathetic observer would admit that one or two of the players who have turned out for the Mariners in this decade seemed less suited to professional football than giving rides to children along Cleethorpes beach.
There are plenty more donkeys in the fourth division, of course, and consumer-minded spectators choose to take their custom elsewhere. The people of North East Lincolnshire notoriously 'support' Liverpool and Manchester United rather than their local club – and while the great Eric Morecambe may have taken his stage name from his beloved home town, when he joined the board of a football club it was Luton. Comedy aficionados recognise this as the greatest gag of his career.
The Mariners' football, furthermore, at times bears a striking resemblance to Eric's technique on the piano. Right now Alan Buckley's players are making all the right passes – just not necessarily in the right order.
And even if Morecambe are enjoying their Football League debut this season, and the resort is recovering strongly from the 'Blobbygate' scandal, Noel Edmonds' theme park lasted only 13 weeks – roughly the same as most of Town's recent managerial appointments.
Like Cleethorpes, Morecambe saw a fine art deco building become one of its most famous monuments. But rather than demolish its glorious Midland Hotel, or let it fall apart, the town has rallied to invest in this asset and restore it to its former splendour.
And the only hope for Town fans is that the population of Grimsby and Cleethorpes can discover the same sense of what's worth preserving. If the Mariners are not to go the same way as the Winter Gardens, local people will need to demonstrate that they can tell their Crinkley Bottom from their elbow.
Labels: buildings, cleethorpes, morecambe, seaside, support
Friday, 9 November 2007
Having a 'mare
I had a dream the other night that Town were in the Conference. The Osmond stand was falling down, and the fans were making up new songs about all the turmoil. Everyone was having a laugh.
Tomorrow the FA Cup takes Town to Carlisle, who were bottom of the entire league for about eight years before they finally dropped into the Conference, with a chairman who said he'd been abducted by aliens. In case everyone wasn't already thinking he was bonkers, he went and appointed himself manager for a year, just to make sure.
I think Brunton Park is a fine ground. Maybe this is because I can't stand big, ostentatious stadiums that say "this club is going places". They're rubbish. Give me a ground that says "we don't know where this club is going, really – it's probably just staying here for the time being because we haven't got any money".
And there's nothing very wrong about staying in one place for a while – as I like to tell myself when it's almost noon and I haven't got out of bed yet.
Dozens of clubs have been brought to the brink of ruin by 'visionary' businessmen who have seen 'potential' and massively over-invested. Eventually they always discover that the reason nobody had tried it beforehand was not that they alone among all humanity had the true vision and the sheer guts to take their club to the top. It was actually because they were completely, spectacularly wrong.
And maybe Town's problem right now concerns our own expectations. Whatever might be wrong off the pitch, we're all still mightily irked that we're in the fourth division – despite having a fourth division stadium, a fourth division catchment area and fourth division support – and much of that disgruntlement is feeding back onto the pitch. We expect the players to give their all for 90 minutes – but what sort of signal does it send to them when Blundell Park has almost emptied after only 80 have been played?
Maybe we could learn from Carlisle, whose fans realised that the right thing to do to pick up their club from the very bottom was to pack into Brunton Park week after week and sing their bloody heads off.
And maybe, just maybe, we can learn to just support our club from one week to the next, without wishing we were somewhere else and beating ourselves up about where we are in the league, and where we think we ought to be.
After all, if we don't relocate to the Fentydome, the chairman may leave. We could end up in the Conference with a ground that's falling down. And the only way we'd get through that is just by making up new songs and having a laugh.
Tomorrow the FA Cup takes Town to Carlisle, who were bottom of the entire league for about eight years before they finally dropped into the Conference, with a chairman who said he'd been abducted by aliens. In case everyone wasn't already thinking he was bonkers, he went and appointed himself manager for a year, just to make sure.
I think Brunton Park is a fine ground. Maybe this is because I can't stand big, ostentatious stadiums that say "this club is going places". They're rubbish. Give me a ground that says "we don't know where this club is going, really – it's probably just staying here for the time being because we haven't got any money".
And there's nothing very wrong about staying in one place for a while – as I like to tell myself when it's almost noon and I haven't got out of bed yet.
Dozens of clubs have been brought to the brink of ruin by 'visionary' businessmen who have seen 'potential' and massively over-invested. Eventually they always discover that the reason nobody had tried it beforehand was not that they alone among all humanity had the true vision and the sheer guts to take their club to the top. It was actually because they were completely, spectacularly wrong.
And maybe Town's problem right now concerns our own expectations. Whatever might be wrong off the pitch, we're all still mightily irked that we're in the fourth division – despite having a fourth division stadium, a fourth division catchment area and fourth division support – and much of that disgruntlement is feeding back onto the pitch. We expect the players to give their all for 90 minutes – but what sort of signal does it send to them when Blundell Park has almost emptied after only 80 have been played?
Maybe we could learn from Carlisle, whose fans realised that the right thing to do to pick up their club from the very bottom was to pack into Brunton Park week after week and sing their bloody heads off.
And maybe, just maybe, we can learn to just support our club from one week to the next, without wishing we were somewhere else and beating ourselves up about where we are in the league, and where we think we ought to be.
After all, if we don't relocate to the Fentydome, the chairman may leave. We could end up in the Conference with a ground that's falling down. And the only way we'd get through that is just by making up new songs and having a laugh.
Labels: carlisle, chairmen, conference, expectations, fa cup, fentydome, new stadiums, support
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