Smoked Fish Fingers and a Shot of Pyms
- Barra Punx
- 1 hour ago
- 4 min read
Grimsby (H) - EFL League 2 - 8th November 2025
After last game's debacle with the shorts, I've sought Mrs P's advice early. 'Big jacket' is the guidance. Sage advice, although it is an unusually warm November afternoon at Holker Street. The twin forces of the low sun and the scoreboard aurora are providing enough lux to knock the SAD clean out of Morrissey, so sunnies are donned in an attempt to get some focus on the action. Although Harvey Rodgers' head does its best to offer some relief, casting a shadow across the popular side and resembling the shore of Easter Island. He'll go on to have a decent game, despite carrying a full tonne's encumbrance on his shoulders. I'm not sure what they're putting in the fish fingers up Grimsby way, but they're a lofty, thickset bunch across the board. And big ugly buggers are the order of the day it seems, as the referee lumbers onto the field looking like an extra from the Hammer House of Horror. Halloween was last week, fella.
As the game gets underway, the horror theme continues, but this time it's our defending bearing the brunt. Only seven minutes in and we develop an acute aversion to clearing the ball. Barrow Grimsby has a very League Two ring to it, and we duly proceed to concede a very League Two goal. Three separate goalmouth scrambles culminate in Danny Rose heading the ball across the line from one yard out, one yard off the ground. Even at such an early stage it was coming, with Grimsby dominating possession and already having carved out chances to notch. Any hope that going behind might wake us up a bit is quickly extinguished on 13 minutes when Grimsby employ the tried and tested method of unlocking our defence. A long punt over the top from Easter Island sees Green outstrip Raglan for pace and neatly chip the ball over the advancing Stanway. Two-nil down and barely into the match.
It's testament to our recent resilience that I haven't already started wondering what's for tea. I think the crowd share my cautious optimism as there are no shouts of 'Fucking Shite Barra', but equally Holker Street is providing all the atmosphere of a darkened room at a particularly sombre wake.
Like using Smart Price big roll, we tentatively start to feel our way in. A good shout for a penalty is waved away by Herman Munster when a Shipley shot strikes the hand of McJannet. The referee displays a pathological unwillingness to award us anything all game whilst simultaneously falling for all of Grimsby's theatrics with the enthusiasm of a provincial theatre critic.
With half-time approaching, we get a big fat slice of luck. The ball falls to Rakeem Harper 25 yards from goal, he shifts it and takes a punt, more in hope than expectation. The ball takes a deflection, giving the hapless Pym no time to adjust* and it finds the back of the net! *On second viewing, Pym reacts like rusting iron and the ball goes through him like a finger through a wet Handy Andy. Probably contributing to his sub-Siberian post match player rating.
Half-time sees us bring on a pair of our own big lads: big Niall Canavan getting 45 minutes replacing Jackson, and big Kane Hemmings replacing the big Isaac Fletcher. Canavan won't miss a header all half and adds a welcome bit of stability to our defensive line. Grimsby's slick passing of the first half has started to recede like Kieran Green's hairline, and it's Barrow now looking the most likely. Harper has a close-range header saved by Pym, who briefly remembers it's his job to keep the ball out of the net. Grimsby continue to frustrate, dropping to the ground like a Sunday morning beer shit at every opportunity. Former Barrow man Eccleston joins the fray and seemingly wants to continue the private competition he's having with himself to kick the ball as high as possible into touch at any given opportunity. Neo Eccleston, just like the old Eccleston.
Barrow are now well on top, but we're getting into underpant-clenching territory on the clock. Step forward man of the match Charlie McCann and mug of the match Christy Pym. McCann lets fly from long range with some venom, and human Polo mint Pym fluffs his lines once more, with the ball passing through him like smoke through a colander. Get in, Barra!!!
The Holker Street End are now in great voice as Barrow push for a winner, Grimsby withering away like smoked haddock on a Ryvita.
We have one more chance to snatch an unlikely victory as a pivoting Gordon fires an effort wide of the post late on. It's almost disappointing that we don't steal the win, but from 2-0 down and with our unbeaten run continuing to seven games, it's a happy Holker Street as the referee blows for full-time. Are we becoming draw specialists? Are we looking up or looking down? All still to be confirmed.
Onwards to Bromley.
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