The Real Big Fish
Last night isn’t about Manchester United’s declension. It's about Grimsby Town’s ascension.
Last night in the driving Cleethorpes rain, little old Grimsby Town caught themselves a big one. They beat Manchester United in the League Cup.
Naturally, much of the fallout is going to focus on yet another humiliating low point for Manchester United. And having grown up surrounded by glory hunting United fans, it would be wrong not to revel in their misfortune for just a moment.
After all, there are so many questions to answer. What is the limit of the cowardice of this group of players? How far will Ruben Amorim’s tactical dogmatism go? Why is their new £74million striker taking the 10th (tenth!) penalty in the shootout? Truly, United seem to be a club in a race with itself to see just how far one of the mightiest institutions in world football can fall.
But amidst all the talk of United’s slow death I wanted to flip the lens and write 800 words about the other side of this story, a historic community-facing institution who have just deservedly enjoyed one of their mightiest nights.
A little context. Despite being a lifelong West Bromwich Albion supporter, Grimsby Town have come to occupy a special place in my heart over the last 3 years.
That’s because they are one of the clubs at the centre of my PhD research. As I have set about researching football fandom cultures as cultural heritage, I have spent several months living in Grimsby and Cleethorpes. I have perused the fish bars of Cleethorpes beach, wandered the town’s ruinous docks and drank alongside supporters in McMenemey’s. I have come to know the club, its staff, the local community and – most importantly – its supporters.
The result? I have fallen head over heels in love with the Mariners.
First there’s the footballing side. At the moment, Grimsby Town are everything that Manchester United are not.
They have a pair of progressive owners – Jason Stockwood and Andrew Petitt - who have not only overseen significant on-field success but have forged a genuine connection with the fanbase by placing an emphasis on the club’s community impact, priced at £4million per annum at last count.1 This pair of boyhood supporters truly put the cynical, miserly, penny-pinching reign of Sir Jim Ratcliffe into sharp relief.
In the dugout Town have the energetic David Artell, who has totally re-energised the team in his 18 months in charge. His ability to improve individual players whilst maintaining a progressive (albeit pragmatic) brand of football has been particularly impressive. Compare Artell’s touchline presence to the image of a hapless, rain-soaked Ruben Amorim feebly moving pieces around his tactics board on the bench last night.
Then there is the playing squad themselves, a group who have been playing out of their skin for much of the last couple of years.
Perhaps no one epitomises this more than Kieran Green. A cheap pick-up from non-league, Green looked like a relatively limited midfield bruiser for much of his first year at the club. However, under the tutelage of Artell, Green has been transformed. He is now a true box-to-box midfield general, beloved by the Grimbarians on the terraces. What United would give for some players with even a modicum of Greeny’s character.
But the true beauty of Grimsby Town – and the reason why I have been particularly savouring their triumph over United – is that they are so much more than their on-field operation.
From top to bottom, they are one of the most wonderful, colourful and authentic footballing institutions in the country.
There is their wonderful old ground – Blundell Park – recently voted as the best in the UK by The Independent’s chief football writer Daniel Storey.2 Squeezed between rows of terrace housing metres from the banks of the Humber estuary, it is everything you want a lower league ground to be. It’s a patchwork temple of timber and corrugated metal in which generation upon generation of Grimbarian have taken their weekly worship.
There is the wonderful community of supporters, some of the loudest, most welcoming and passionate in the country. As I have followed Grimsby Town around the country for the past three years, the Mariners’ faithful have delighted me with their wry humour, committed hardiness and ear-splitting repertoire of songs – mostly referring to the town’s famous fishing heritage. Despite my status as an outsider – and despite the fact that Albion essentially stole half of Grimsby’s team in the mid-90s – I have only ever been treated with kindness and communitas by the Grimbarian faithful.
It has been a privilege to share the terraces with them - as proven by this video I took at Walsall just a week ago.
But there’s something else that I think makes Grimsby one of the most special football clubs in the country: its story.
Grimsby is a town on its last legs, decimated by the collapse of the fishing industry which once employed over 80% of the workforce in the town.3 But whilst Grimsby has been afflicted by deindustrialisation and generations of under-investment, what it does have is a deeply authentic, deeply loved, deeply historical football club which has sat at the beating heart of the town since 1878 – a broad cultural continuity against a context of rupture and change.
It’s that stark contrast and tension that led me to study Grimsby in the first place.
The over-riding goal of my PhD project is to examine how the interaction between football clubs and communities of football supporters may help fans establish a sense of resilience against the traumatic change(s) wrought by deindustrialisation. In plain English, I argue that football fandom needs to be protected as cultural heritage, because it is a crucial anchor to us supporters in chaotic times of change.
Having examined and researched Grimsby Town on these terms for over three years, in my eyes, the club represents a totally unique story of how a community can unite and fight back against devastating loss. And what encapsulates that narrative more than last night?
As I watched the celebrations unfold last night, I saw groups of young men embracing their brothers in black and white. As Mbeumo’s penalty clipped the bar, I saw four generations of families leaping for joy – bound together by their mutual love for their beloved GTFC. Amidst the carnivalesque post-match celebrations, I saw over 6,000 residents of a struggling seaside town come together and use one voice to proclaim an undying sense of civic pride in their home.
The story of Grimsby Town Football Club is therefore one of an institution providing a sense of identity, togetherness and communion in a locality which has had all three undermined by the loss of its central employer.
And it’s that sense of narrative that can make a man fall in love with a football club.
With that in mind, perhaps we should flip the script entirely and start focussing more on the so-called “little fish”. Oh what Manchester United could learn from a club like Grimsby.
Grimsby Town Foundation (2025) Grimsby Town Foundation generate over £4m of social value. Available at: https://gtfc.co.uk/grimsby-town-foundation-generate-over-4m-of-social-value/.
Storey, D. (2025) ‘My pilgrimage to Grimsby and the best football ground in England’ The Independent. Available at: https://inews.co.uk/sport/football/grimsby-town-best-football-ground-england-3456166?srsltid=AfmBOoqWFUhhSVMWwCwMl0hab5cuh-WiVtinIM4KqPrRb6wfUddbosl1.
Grimsby Public Library (1922) Grimsby Official Guide: 1922. Accessed at Grimsby Public Library, July 25th, 2023.
Thanks for this, Josh. You deserve some recognised honorary status here; not before the publication of that much anticipated thesis. My offer to proof read still stands. Hope you are well.🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠
There's a similar resurrection going on 32 miles to the West in similarly troubled Scunthorpe, albeit from a lower base. Both teams fans want to play each other again at an appropriate level.