R.I.P. Mark Simons

Quoted from FishOutOfWater

I didn't understand everything in that article but with my basic German it was a pretty good testament to Town's support when we played Donny.... probably one of those away games which Mark will have made.

A fitting tribute to the passion Mariner's fans have...  GTID

Translated to English it was very disparaging to Grimsby which is pretty much par for the course with lazy media soundbites.

It said Grimsby was ugly and the worst place to live in the UK amongst other insults.

It makes my blood boil.

We only sing when we fish"
The list of Grimsby's location disadvantages is long: ugly town, colorless club, latent fish smell. But the city also has a big advantage: completely crazy fans.

Diane looks worried. " Take care of yourself when you go into these streets," she says, a warm middle-aged lady, and points diagonally to the left, a small hill up. Diane knows every corner here. Here in Grimsby, the city whose name alone causes chills. Their two syllables sound like sadness cast in sound. Grimsby is the city that was voted on by various online media last year" Worst place to live in the UK" is selected. So the worst place to live in the UK. And anyone who has ever visited an industrial city in the north of England knows that the competition in this competition is high.

Grimsby was once the pride of British fishing, now there are so many buildings empty at the harbor that you can hear their doors creaking when there are gusts of wind. In the dark, the Tesco neon sign serves as a lantern replacement, red brick houses with small canopies are lined up, here a pawnshop, there is a studio for lasering away tattoos, in front of which someone has parked a battered army truck. There may not even be great football here, but it is said to be the best away fans in England. Even Diane's jacket tells of it, she wears a button on the collar with the inscription" Clap, clap, fish". A saying that can only be understood later on the trip with Grimsby Town FC.

Let's go flipping mentally

It is still quiet on Grimsby Road in the early evening, but the noise of the branching roads roars across the houses. Why should you be careful in these streets, Diane? Are the tough guys out there, the Grimsby mobsters?" No, no, worse," she said." Today, Mad Friday. All the office workers and teachers make a mess of it. It doesn't end well. ”Diane weighs the keychain lightly in her hand, turns and says goodbye to her house with this dry punch line. Mad Friday - this is the last Friday before the Christmas holidays. The day on which quite a few English people, regardless of whether they are office workers or teachers, drink senselessly between all the contemplation. Pictures of the excesses in Leeds, Manchester, and Birmingham fill whole newspaper pages the next day. And Grimsby cannot be asked twice for this tradition.

In the side streets, boys with glassy eyes drip from the pubs. Some men take off their pants in front of the entrances, women take off their high-heeled shoes, and the front windows of the cars are lathered with fish and chips. Inside, even elderly ladies dance in the style of Beyoncé and pass on pound notes with their mouths. Against the wavering, joyful crowd in Grimsby, even the Cologne Carnival looks like a game of rummy in the canon. But if you find out what a wild party this is for residents, they only answer with a shake of the head. This one? No no. Tomorrow, my friend, there we go. Tomorrow Grimsby Town FC will play. Away. Fourth English league. If the club starts anywhere in England, they go crazy. Or as it says here: Let's go flipping mentally!

On the road in the name of Grimsby

7.30 a.m. on Saturday morning, Matchday. At half past two Grimsby starts in Doncaster, fourth division, no TV broadcast, no game for breaking news. Iain and Josh chug along the M180 in their small car. The two are on the road in the name of Grimsby, after all they are the central defense of the fan team. Whether in Cardiff or Barnet - before going into the away block to cheer on their team, they are playing a game against the home team's fans.

The balls and black and white jerseys are shaking in the trunk, and the half-empty McDonald's coffee mug is jerking in the holder at the front. Iain, 30 years old, hangs in the passenger seat of a chatting math teacher who apologizes for every clearing of his throat. His parents moved to Grimsby from Ireland when he was two years old. Josh, the driver, is 21 and a car mechanic, a long guy, he doesn't speak more than he asked." I do not live directly in Grimsby, but just outside, in Boston," he says. His buddy Iain looks out the window and mumbles between two bites in his fast food breakfast:" Somehow funny, Josh." Pause." What?" Asks Josh. Ian now looks at his friend." I mean, you're from Boston and did not even have a twelfth finger or a third nostril or so. You must be a pretty unusual guy there. ”Josh turns on the turn signal.

Quoted from KingstonMariner

Was it this one from Barnet?

https://11freunde.de/2017-03-28/wir-singen-nur-wenn-wir-fischen

That's the one. Thank you for posting.

Always sad to hear one of our own passing away, R.I.P. mark and condolences to his family and friends.

RIP Mark