soccer | sportslaureate

Mansplainer: this is ABOUT GTFC, mainly. But hoping all fans can identify, yeh?

Yeh this counts as indulgence. And maybe exorcism. The brain is bit dead and the stomach stewed and only some of this is due to a tiring week. Mostly, it’s about football.

I went from Grimsby to Bristol then Newport, to see the Mighty Mariners. It was a fabulous day and I walked the riverside flat, as the saying goes. The mudflats looked gooey and the gulls were at it: the Usk a ver-ry different river to the sparkling cutie-pie inland. I perambulated and ‘checked-out’ the linear mile or two, either side. Waterside apartments and oh – an eisteddfod march featuring a zillion schoolkids – complete with ‘Yma o hyd’. (Go look it up). Three rather splendid and restful hours pre-game; all bridges and coffees and looking.

Town are a strongish side in the division. I know this via mates and coz I have *actually been* to about 8 games in the last X months. They should have won through the League Two play-offs last season… but no. Good vibe around the club, though, with what look like astute buys or loans to compensate for the loss of McEachran and Kabia. Too many draws in the opening phase but deservedly third in the table as I park up (on the kerb, like everyone else) along Caerleon Road, a sensible walk from the ground.

A confession: not been to Rodney Parade before. Like most of us in Wales – yes I live there, out West – it’s always been in the consciousness as a likeably, unpretentiously or homely host for the 42 iterations of Newport RFC, with or without dragons or Gwent. I do a circuit a) to find the away end and b) to ‘see’. It’s smallish and boxy and newish (coz trimmed or changed).

Rodney Parade now sits in amongst exactly the kind of mid-range(? Hopefully no offence?) apartments you might expect to see in any ‘revitalised’ urban riverside. Many of these front the river, with its pleasingly wide walkway, its gulls, its view into the city. I’m guessing that previously the ground nestled in amongst traditional working-class housing… and was therefore a ‘real part of the community’ but these are dangerously lazy assumptions (and it *may still be* a real part, etc etc) so let’s not go there. Except to say that obviously this area has changed – has developed or been developed.

It’s only when you’re in the ground that you see that neither end is covered. Not here to undermine or denigrate Newport but this does suggest ‘smallish club’ – fact. But it is what it is and yesterday it looked and was great, in powerful sunshine. Smart-looking playing surface, ideal playing conditions. We Town fans were split between one open end and an adjacent section between the corner flag and about halfway. (Did strike me that if we’d all crammed into one of those spaces, any impact we might have had would surely have been maximised, but hey-ho; lovely day, two sections available, crack on).

Town are kicking away from us, meaning we’ll see a thrilling hatful of goals later, yes? We start.

The pitch has been watered, to the extent that there is notable spray every time Maldini or McJannet stroke the ball imperiously sideways, to ‘draw County in’. (It’s nearly alarming: surely over-watered? Please god no interceptions!) We look better than them from the off – contentiously, I still think we are – but *real chances* are hard to come by, largely because the killer or potentially threatening passes are hurried, or butchered. This will be the theme for the day.

I went to the last home match at Blundell Park, versus Crawley, and was encouraged by the performances of two young lads in particular – both new to the club. Iwan Morgan is an athletic striker from Wales, with real commitment and movement. Fin Cartwright is a tall, slim, intelligent midfielder, with that proverbial cultured left foot. They both looked to have real potential, that day.

Zoom forward a week and they are both disappointing. Peripheral and in Cartwright’s case, slightly surprisingly wasteful. (He’s good enough to pick a pass and open things up: even when space was available he failed to do it. Uncharacteristically, he looked a bit nervy and early when a half-decent chance came his way). Interestingly – or not – Morgan looked keen to point out to someone in our crowd(?) that he was carrying a knock, when subbed. Think this was much more about his real disappointment than anything performative. Looks a good character, wanted to make something happen; was visibly thrilled to rifle in a pen, his first goal for Town, last week.

The Newport game doesn’t change my view of these lads as good quality players who may well make important contributions for the club. Both will and should be disappointed with their performances in what was ultimately a horrible, horrible defeat. But by no means was the defeat their fault. Morgan will feel he should have scored when he slid in but bundled wide, in the first half. He should have. Town deserved to be ahead at that point; there was that strong feeling that we would then go on to win well. The moment was lost, Newport threatened themselves, via their lad with pace, right-of-centre. Nil-nil at half-time, so some tension, but Town unquestionably the better.

It’s kinda hilarious that we sportspeeps all think we know better than the professionals – particularly the coaches. A gang of us spent much of last night (Saturday, keep up) dismembering Thomas Tuchel. We certainly know better than him!

(I actually work as a coach but this probably makes no odds, I know that. I’m talking relentless cobblers, like the rest of you. It makes the world go round, eh?!?)

Vernam is the Grimsby Town winger. Right-footed, plays on the left, in the Modern Way. Seems like a lovely, bright man; very coachable, I would imagine. If it’s tight, he will generally keep possession and drop it back into the full-back or midfielder. With space, he will run at the defender. Nothing wrong with his awareness or what we might call his playing intelligence. He’s listened: he knows. The trouble is, for a damagingly significant period of time, he’s been unable (mostly) to execute. Cuts in, gets the yard, and the shot is weak and/or wide. Crosses or higher-tariff passes don’t get there. Can actually strike a dead ball well – corners are often goodish – but had a poor penalty easily saved last week.

All things are complex so it’s maybe too dumb to simply call this a confidence issue… but it’s part of the unfortunate package. Execution of Important Moments has been too mediocre for too long. That recent penalty felt emblematic: in there at perfectly saveable height and within comfortable reach of the dive.

So some of us have been shouting. Even those of us who note the lack of alternative *outright wingers* in the squad. For many of us, Vernam is unselectable on this form. We understand that part of management is the support and revitalisation of individuals not at their best. Accepted. But there are brutal truths. And there are also alternative patterns. Play a flying wing-back (we have candidates for that) and no winger? I wonder if the coach is looking at that. He will know we need to hurt the opposition, to make more clear opportunities, more frequently than we are. His eyes as well as his data must surely be telling him that?

David Artell is the Grimsby Town manager. Animated on the touchline – sometimes bullishly and inappropriately so – but sharp, thoughtful and strategic. Often pro-active and generally excellent with tweaks and substitutions. (He was right to remove the two youngsters, early doors, yesterday). He’s known to be a statman – something I have reservations about – but it’s working pretty well for him. The club and the squad are in a good place in most respects, and the playing staff seem to have been gathered with care and intelligence. (Whatever happens, this feels like a strongish squad for this division. I have no doubt that those within the club are powerfully focused on a promotion: they *probably have* both the quality and the necessary depth).

*Probably* because yesterday was an awful defeat. Defensively, Grimsby are generally solid, with the Harvey/McJannet/Acurri/Sweeney combo typically assured and physically durable (if not heroic!) in the way that League Two success demands. But because we didn’t score in a first period that we kinda quietly dominated, and because errors happen, the day went bad on us. One cruel error and then a corner sloppily defended and we’re two-down. Unthinkable but we all know this is football. The locals in dreamland and good luck to them. Our lot completely gutted. A late goal – conceded badly by their former Town keeper – and a hopeful surge before we wander out, a bit dazed, into the Gwent sunshine. In my case, to boot to Pembrokeshire. (So not all bad, then).

Bigger pictures, as I yomp to the car. And now.

About 400 Town fans made the trip. Those on the coach left Grimsby at 7.15am and arrived at 1pm. All ages – same as everywhere. Overwhelmingly fabulous, generous, hearty people looking to support their club – same as everywhere. There was one lad (about 30; glasses) taunting the opposition keeper with endlessly foul ‘banter’ but everybody else would be great company wherever you put them in the stadium. Lots of Proper Humour. Lots of love for the town and the game.

The Mariners staff and players were uniformly brilliant and generous as they walked into the ground – I happened to be there. Selfies galore, selflessly and charmingly given. And notable that Green – the captain and the best player – leads applauds, thanks and apologies to the fans at the excruciatingly bitter end. Does that every week. He gets it – gets the connection and the meaning of all this. When he badly over-hit a late cross, Green’s cruel, crumpled angst registered with all of us; he fell into a gut-wrenched stoop, like the Town Posse in the stands; bawling out our hurt. I am critical of footballer’s dishonesty (and Town are guilty, in my view, of flopping and falling under contact) but Artell and co are palpably conscious of their role in mirroring the love, planting the flag. They are Grimsby too.

Fan-dom. Funny old game, eh? Maybe particularly when you’re a part-timer (like me), living 340 miles from the object of your viceral-tribal lurv-thing, or whatever it is.

Town. Grew up there and went to virtually every home game, aged 10-15. Then plenty more aged 15-22. Then on special occasions; ‘home visits’.

Been in Wales, see, for forty years or more. (And what a glorious privilege it’s been). So family life – my own, kids etc – got in the way of journeys Up North and back in time. But been doing more, largely due to our mum’s illness, and it’s all tugging a bit.

With every visit the realisations multiply, somehow. Unconscious or inexplicable truths around the magnitude of early life, early mates. Might not be the case for everybody but clear to me now that those mates from Primary School were and are about as good and as key as you’re ever gonna get. Torn between eulogising them and moving on: the universe probably needs to hear about the fabulous ordinary guys who have carried me through life, and will probably carry me out of it, unsung. But too intrusive of their quietness to go naming it. Too invasive of their unshowy, implacably honest ground.

All this feeds in to football. Those individuals; our tribe. I walk the genuinely grim or grimy streets around Blundell Park, on *that mission*: to go support the lads. (Yes they do finally have a women’s team but I’m too late and too far away to participate in that welcome ‘innovation’). The lads, who used to be Stuart Brace and Matt Tees before Terry Donovan and Mike Brolly became the boys Vernam, Rose and Warren. Six times I’ve walked in there, in the last year, through but with the other daft buggers in their Town clobber. Dads. Grandads. Mums. Daughters. All kinda sounding the same. All wanting the same and feeling some kind of connection: to this Town; to this place.

Football. I hate loads about it – the cheating, the money, the ‘Authorities’ near and far. The 21st century moral black hole of it. But walking briskly in, as you do, to Grimsby Town FC, at Blundell Park Cleethorpes is a wonderful, grounding pleasure. And it registers win lose or draw.

Last night I couldn’t be there. And/but they were on the tellybox. Tranmere. We’re 9th, they’re 16th in the table, or were. I’m watching from Pembrokeshire.

It looks a decent night – and the commentator says as much – before soon changing his tune. (You’re right up against the Humber/North Sea estuary multiplex, generally haunted by apocalyptic, cod-hurling ‘showers’. We soon got one). Important game for both sides; the brief interviews with the respective managers reinforced that view. Artell for GTFC thoughtful in that articulate, passive-aggressive way that he has.

Town have been dropping-off, results-wise, despite having a good coach and a solid, possibly even exceptional wider culture. Whether it’s a dip in confidence, or the presence of TV cameras, who knows, but Grimsby are poor in the first half. The squad has as many players who look good on the ball as the top handful of sides in the division but they fell into that awful lower-league hoofing-thing. Almost every contact with the ball was a ‘clearance’. It was Sunday League. Tranmere were better *and* they were winning every second ball. (So not only were Town failing to play to their footballing strengths, they were failing to compete). No complaints that Tranmere lead 1-0 at the break.

I’m a coach and slinger of wild opinions so let’s get into this. Warren, Turi, Vernam and Rose are good players at this level. And more broadly Artell has deliberately gathered a squad who can play patient, skilful (dare I say it?) intelligent football. Phases of passing. Good movement. Ball into feet. Rehearsed plays. I’ve watched them do it, often impressively. Last night they were without their best player, McEachran, who sits and passes and turns and makes the thing tick. But Turi – the guy tasked with filling the McEachran-shaped hole – can also play. Last night, for much of the game, Pym, the keeper and the likes of Warren (unusually and disappointingly) were clattering the ball over his head, bypassing the central midfield.

This is ok if it works. Last night, for 45 mins plus, it was bloody awful. Turi failed to show, or impose his will on the frankly amateurish chaos around him. Rose almost literally never got a touch, reinforcing the belief that he simply can’t play unless Town are threading balls in to feet. Vernam had an absolute ‘mare, from start to finish. Walker – who *does do* this – spent about an hour solely intent on drawing fouls. (For me, he was an embarrassment but he’s not alone at the club for ‘falling easily’: and yes I am happy to call out the coaching staff on this. Of course they are seeing #PremierLeagueLegends do this on a daily basis, but for me Artell and co should be discouraging it not using it as a strategic tool).

But on. To a second half where the Mariners found themselves and a good dollop of their game, equalising before probing for the winner that they may have deserved. As he often does, Artell made smart, timely substitutions and had obviously *had words|* about the lack of courage and composure in the first period. Burns, who for the first time in my limited experience looked a threat, scored a fine goal and would have notched a decisive second but for a remarkable save for Tranmere’s superannuated keeper. It was ‘all Town’ until, disastrously, the defence switched-off and allowed the visitors to *absolutely steal it* in the 96th minute. Horror show!

I had a brother and plenty mates there. They will have felt distraught at that cruel denouement but also at the capitulation in the first half. Town stopped doing it the Town Way. Good players stopped being brave enough to show and to pass to feet. It’s happened a zillion times, at a million clubs. But bloody tough to see that at your own.