16/08 Port Vale 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 17/08/2003

GROVES replaced Ten Heuvel at half time and Town moved to a 4-4-1 formation. Groves and Hamilton anchored the midfield with Crowe and Campbell whizzing up and down the wings in support of Boulding.

Grimsby Town 1 Port Vale 2 16 Aug 2003, Nationwide League Division 2 And jolly good it was for 20 minutes. Town passed their way through a static, confused and outclassed Port Vale. For a few fleeting minutes the Town fans were smugly purring at the gulf in class. We really shouldn’t be smug, should we. Do we never learn? After just a couple of minutes of the second half Town should have been 2-0 up. The ball was dinked over the top from somewhere on the left inside the Town half. Boulding was unmarked and he controlled the ball on his thigh, spinning out to the left and surging into the penalty box. About 10 yards out and 6 yards wide of the goal he let fly and smashed the ball straight onto the goalkeepers knees. The ball flew out of the area, straight to Campbell about 30 yards out, with the goal briefly open and a-gaping. Campbell hit a first time shot which drifted several yards wide. Well, nice. And nicer, as Town probed away, exposing every weakness, however carefully hidden by the Port Vale kids. Crowe and Campbell were causing minor moments of panic in the Port Vale defence as they drifted behind the full backs and centre backs. Boulding harried and chased everything and, essentially, in a very small nutshell, Town kept the ball. Groves was having a stormer, starting us and stopping them, a cameo of calm and class. After 52 minute another Town surge down the left, free roaming and free running Barnard, Campbell and Boulding all linked up and supported each other. Campbell received the ball near the corner flag, ran around in a few circles, made his way back towards Town’s goal and suddenly cut back inside. From about 25 yards out, on the centre left, Campbell hit a blistering drive which scraped several millimetres of paint off the top right hand crossbar. The ball thudded down into the middle of the goal and was bundled away. Bloomin’ marvellous. Town were in the ascendancy and deserved to be further ahead. But they weren’t, all this pressure produced a smile on the face of many a Mariner, but that was all. Nothing that you’d see in pretty colours on CEEFAX. Twenty minutes of whirling dervish football and still only 1-0. A Port Vale defender hoofed a clearance, or it may have been a pass, who can tell? The ball sailed aimlessly, harmlessly towards Barnard, about 10 yards outside the Town area. A Port Vale striker was sort of near, out towards the touchline. No danger, relax, another attack beckons. Oh dear, the spirit of number threes past struck, as Barnard headed back far too softly. The ball rolled slowly towards Davison, who came out, then stopped. Then came again. Just enough hesitation for McPHEE to nick the ball away, drift wide of the flailing Davison and clip the ball into the empty net from a narrow angle. A couple of Town players sank to the ground. Most of the ground sank with them. A (by then) undeserved goal for the valiant visitors. Port Vale were encouraged by this. Who wouldn’t be, they too could see the Town players’ fragility. Two or three minutes later their bruiser of a number 9, Brooker, won a free kick by suckering Crane into a needless collision way out on the Town left, about 30 yards from goal. It was so way out left, it was almost out of play. The free kick was pumped deep into the heart of the Town penalty area and PAYNTER stooped and headed the ball down into the ground with it bouncing up into the top left hand corner of the goal. The Port Vale players and fans went wild, presumably they couldn’t believe their luck. We could. Two daft goals, clickety-click.

Grimsby Davison Cas Ford Crane Barnard Crowe Hamilton Campbell Anderson Boulding Ten Heuvel   Subs Rowan 80 mins Mansaram 72 mins Groves 45 mins Edwards Petinger   Attendance 4,816   Referee Phil Prosser (Gloucestershire)   Division Two League Table Reports/Fixtures Previews Predict-o-Meter   Man of the Match Vote for your Man of the Match Your Name (optional) Your Email Address (optional) Your Man of the Match Pick a player Davison Cas Ford Crane Barnard Crowe Rowan Campbell Hamilton Anderson Boulding Mansaram Heuvel Groves Nominations count towards the Player Of The Month shortlist.

Yeah, you know, I know, thrown away, no way back. That was it. Town did press, they did try, they did occasionally pass. But there was never, ever the feeling that Town would score again. Boulding was replaced by Mansaram just after their second goal. This was greeted without joy. How Hamilton remained on is a mystery that only Arthur C Clarke could answer. Mansaram ran around in the way only he can. Arms out, legs wide, the Len Ganley stance in motion. The events blur into a slow motion hell on earth. What came first the chicken or the dog? Sometime before 5 o’clock Port Vale had a couple of shots which, given that they were leading and had a man more, was the least they could have done. One was a clear shot at goal from outside the area, straight to Davison, with the other being of so little consequence I only remember the Cliff Richard like sneer from my neighbour as it failed to frighten. Vale started to time waste. Started? The goalie was time wasting when they were one-nil down! So annoyed did Campbell become that when one Valiant claimed injury after a minor collision he picked up the physio’s bag and chucked it off the pitch. Near the end the Pontoon counted to 11 as Delaney delayed his punt upfield. The result was a change of balls, vicar, as the ball had deflated. How fitting, it matched the mood of the massed ranks of Marinerdom.

With 10 minutes left Town got a free kick when the Evil Emperor Ming’s Death Ray penetrated the earth’s atmosphere and hit Barnard in the lower back, just in front of the Lower Smiths/Stones/Findus. Barnard recovered from this unearthly transmission and curled the free kick in. Crowe ran from the right and, about 8 yards out right in the centre, collided with a defender, who headed the ball back across goal. Mansaram, yes it must be, here it is...Mansaram, 6 yards out, 8 yards wide of goal, closed his eyes, thought of Doncaster and leathered the ball wide of the near post. It didn’t even touch the side netting. Crowe stayed down, some Town fans pleaded for a penalty, presumably on the basis we needed one and a Town player was on the floor. When Crowe got up he was substituted for Rowan, with Town changing to a 4-3-2 formation. The Christmas tree without a fairy formation. Again the continuing presence of bungling Des puzzled, perplexed and, well, you choose the next alliteration.

Cas’s long throws promised much, but delivered little. Crane kept flicking the ball on to no one. The most interesting one was when a low, flat, fast throw skimmed off Crane’s head and zipped straight into the surprised goalkeeper’s hands on the line. The worst was when Cas threw directly out of play. Crane, a bit dimly, caught the ball and threw it over the goalkeeper and into the empty net, thus wasting our time. And still Town pressed, a Barnard curling free kick from the left went beyond the last Vale defender, Crane and Groves ran back, leant back, arms out and stumbled. Penalty cried the Pontoon. Free kick to Vale. Ah well, the referee won’t be charmed, will he. Another Barnard curling cross, Groves, 8 yards out at the far post, headed goalwards. It hit a Vale defender, but the referee awarded a goal kick. With just a couple of minutes left Mansaram, 25 yards out on the centre right, collected a clearance, used Rowan as a decoy and thrashed a thumper of a shot a yard wide of the ‘keeper’s left hand post. And finally another scramble, bodies bumping into each other, the ball falling to Cas, at the far post, just 6 yards out. Was this the deserved equaliser? Of course not, a Vale defender appeared from behind an imaginary bush to block as Cas’s boot swung. That tackle, more than any other tackle, that tackle won the game.

In the four minutes of added time there was just one moment to report. Town attacked, a Vale defender made a hash of a clearance near the left hand corner flag but the ball rolled directly to Littlejohn, unmarked and about 30 yards from his own goal. He ran forward and pinged a long pass out to their right. The remaining Town defenders walked up claiming offside (hey, it looked MILES offside from the Pontoon) and the player ran on. And on. And on. Must score, surely. No, he decided to pass rather than shoot, rolling the ball sideways to his mate, who was flagged for offside.

And then it was officially over, 20 minutes after we knew it was. The rafters resounded with the sound of booing. Again the referee was providing a convenient fig leaf. Individuals made terrible errors, not just for the goals, but all the way through. When Town click they look sweet, but that sound your hear is tutting. The problem is down the middle, two somnambulists in defence and two non-entities in midfield. Even with 10 men, no, especially with 10 men, Town were a bit better. With 11 men Town would have won easily, with 10 they still should have won comfortably.

Are we playing all the right notes, and are they in the right order?

Nicko’s Man of the Match

Only two candidates, Cas, for his ample defending and rampaging runs, or Mr Aidan Davison, for a string of top class blocks and saves. Not forgetting his control of the penalty area. So it’s him then, Wales’ number 1, Wales number 1, I mean Northern Ireland former number 4 goalkeeper. He did what the Leicester bench sitter never did, command the penalty area.

Official Warning

Mr P Prosser. Dressed in yellow, was he a lemon or a melon? Superficially much for the average Mariner to seethe about, but, really, he didn’t get much wrong. The two footed lunge at Campbell could probably have brought forth a red card for a Port Vale defender, and if he’d been extra-extra indulgent towards Town perhaps he could have awarded a penalty towards the end.

Look deep into your hearts fellow monochromers, can you honestly say that if a Port Vale player had leapt at, say Barnard, with an arm raised you wouldn’t have bayed for blood? A surprisingly high figure of 6.0104 flies off towards rhyming man, tall and tanned.

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