Tales From Darlington Part 2

By: Andrew Doherty
Date: 20/03/2005

WE caught our train to Grimsby. The train was populated with Darlington’s Finest. The educational theme continued as Revis informed me that the speeded up techno/hardcore come Donald Duck I was overhearing constantly on one of the Darlo supporter’s phones was in fact a ‘crazy frog’ ringtone.

There are two others, I was informed. Apparently her 2 year old cousin loves them. So do Darlington supporters. I must have missed out on a stage of development here. Ringtones are cool, I’m told. I’m getting old.

Smoke belched forth from the Humber bank factories as we approached Grimsby. This made me think of the sign on the M180 around West Marsh, pointing to the factories with ‘Tourist Trail’. Has anyone else noticed this? Someone’s having a laugh. Perhaps it’s industrial tourism.

We were glad to get off at Grimsby Town and leave our behaviourally-challenged comrades from Darlington behind. ‘BUS PRANKS. DEATH WARNING’ proclaimed the Grimsby Telegraph poster outside the station. Welcome to Grimsby!

After walking through Freshney Place, we caught a bus to Cleethorpes via Blundell Palace to pick up the tickets, and also because we like going on the bus and seeing Grimbarian life from the top deck. We immediately felt in a happier environment than on the train. Parents and grandparents were talking to their children, people were courteous, friendly and even smiling. Well, perhaps it wasn’t quite so idyllic as this. It is Grimsby, after all, not Never Never Land. At least we can boast the Dock Tower, an uplifting sight if ever there was one.

We passed the Angel pub on Freeman Street. ‘A Warm, Friendly Welcome’, stated the flaking sign, threateningly. Further down opposite the market was Skeltons bakery, inviting the people of Grimsby to use their unbridled initiative: ‘Create your own bun’ (NB to non-Grimbarians/Meggies. A bun is probably not what you think). I can just imagine the reaction if you went in and asked to ‘create’ a bun containing foie gras with pesto, mustard mayonnaise and rocket. ‘You what, love’. Southerners might though. Grimbarians want sustenance with their creativity. And food they can eat.

We arrived at Cleethorpes front, where people were sitting in Pier Gardens enjoying their fish and chips. It wasn’t raining, so nothing could be better. A depressing feature was that Cleethorpes seems to have been taken over by swanky night (sorry, nite) clubs. The Dolphin Hotel is sadly shut, and has been replaced by a place called ‘Reflex’. Next door to it is a place with a psychedelic neon sign called ‘Funkies. Groovies. Flares. A Big Night Out’. Is this really keeping up with the times? I’ll stick to grey days sitting on chairs, eating fish and chips, if you don’t mind.

Still, the slot machines are the same. ‘They’re really old games’ said Revis. They’re all really old machines too, half of them are broken and probably the same ones that I put money in 30 years ago. Cleethorpes is still magical for me but it has become a sad, grey place. Still where else can you get entertainment for 18 pence, which is what Revis and I invested in Fantasy World.

Suitably amused, we carried on towards BP to fulfil the purpose of the day. The Police were out in force. They’d obviously heard of the Darlington Charm Factor. We walked past a large gent on the Grimsby Road sitting on a wall, fast asleep. Clearly he wasn’t overwhelmed by the occasion. Either that or he’d died. Death in Cleethorpes. Makes you think.

I observed that the toy and model shop, Loftis, was no longer there as we walked further down the Grimsby Road. On the opposite side, there is now a tanning studio. What on earth does anyone want that for in Cleethorpes? If the sun doesn’t get you, the wind will. And it costs nothing. Worrying times.

We met Andy Humbo outside the John Smiths stand, and went in. The pitch was eerily enveloped in fog. You couldn’t see the river today, nor the Cold Storage building which looks like a barcode. Andy recalled the game against Exeter in 1971/2 which was abandoned after 17 minutes. Ironically, I arrived at the game 5 minutes late, for 12 minutes of invisible action.

Conditions today were playable, although whether anyone was going to decide to play was another matter. In fact Town started brightly with some good, passing play, a good run by Reddy, and honest endeavour from our loanee Prince Harry. On 10 minutes, Darlington floated the ball into Town’s box, the headed clearance was weak and Darlo’s no 29 Jason St’Juste - ‘I thought St.Just was in Cornwall’, observed Andy with geographical precision - fired in a cleanly hit low shot into the right hand corner, giving Williams no real chance. Town 0, Darlington 1.

Town were not discouraged though, and battled on. Reddy went on some direct and dangerous runs, a refreshing change from his past tendency to head systematically towards the corner flag. Gritton’s lay-offs were incisive and Prince Harry showed good control, coming close a couple of times. Parky went off after 29 minutes, presumably injured, to be replaced by Hockless who looked impressive. Some good interplay between Pinault and Hockless on 33 minutes down the left almost led to a breakaway. Macca fired in a cross on 37 minutes for Fleming who attempted a back header, and a minute or so later there was a scramble after the Darlo goalkeeper dropped a cross. Town were playing with determination, confidence. Their movement and passing were excellent. Darlo weren’t bad but Town were taking the game to them, and appeared to have a number of attacking options. The half ended with a Darlo corner after Town went flat for the last couple of minutes, but on the whole the performance so far had been lively and encouraging.

Half time was a bit subdued, as the Mariner-supporting fraternity realised that we really shouldn’t have been 0-1 down. The fog was coming down again, and it was getting cold. The river was still mysterious and invisible. It wasn’t time for the world to end just yet, as there was a second half to look forward to.

The article continues in Part Three.

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