Sunshine After Rain: Peterborough Report

Grimsby Town 1 Peterborough United 1
06 Sep 2003, Nationwide League Division 2

The home support has been sleepwalking its way through the first few games, awaiting the inevitable deluge of Town goals before they can be bothered to rouse themselves from their comfortable post prandial nap. The newly created unreserved seating area seemed to be well populated, but as detached as the rest of the Pontoon.

Barry Fry’s armpits weren’t yet visible.

Town lined up in the usual 4-4-2 formation, as shown. Edwards played at left back, otherwise everyone else was where you’d guess them to be. Was that it? No Crowe, Ten Heuvel, gone in ten minutes? Were there no other players left? And from the mists of time, a faint fog wispily wafting around his ankles, a forlorn, forgotten figure emerged from the tunnel. Mr P Jevons handed over his shirt to his sponsor. Was this a sign of a rapprochement between club and clod? Or were the sponsors getting in early before he disappears into the foundations of a local building site. Well, Town could do with the money from the insurance, couldn’t they?

There was no ambulance, thus saving £360, nor was the Might Mariner visible, thus saving 360 street credibility points, which I understand you can add to your Tesco Clubcard. Were the absences of the ambulance and Mighty Mariner linked? We were unlikely to have a mini riot without foam tomfoolery.

1st half

Peterborough kicked off towards the Pontoon, with a waft down the Town left, which Edwards coolly headed back down the touchline to Campbell, who bent a pass with the outside of his right boot further down the line. Boulding scampered free and the goalkeeper, the bright yellow clad tiny tot Tyler, hacked the ball away from the corner of his penalty area. You’ll have to wait a long time before Town string more than that number of passes together.

Peterborough, playing in their traditional all blue kit, and in a 3-5-2 formation, were exactly what you’d expect of a Bazza "Mr Personality" Fry team. Well, almost. Their wingers, Newton and Farrell, were a bit nippy and tricky, more than just blokes who can run quickly. Unlike poor old Mike Edwards, who is less than a left back. Clearly a bog standard lower division centre half he was fine if the ball came to him, but alarmingly absent when Newton sprinted. Still, we can’t blame someone for being slow, can we. His legs moved and he could hear what we were saying which, for the most part from the Pontoon, was very unkind. And he wasn’t the only one. Bolder missed every tackle, shinned every pass, and ran like a prototype android receiving intermittent radio signals from his remote controller. Add that to Campbell’s determination to be anywhere but on the left wing and you have the ingredients for a tripe pie.

Town were a complete and utter mess. Shapeless, shiftless, shonky and much more beside. Peterborough roamed freely down the flanks, and skipped happily through the centre with a song in their heart and a smile on their face, lacing daisy chains as they passed Crane, a man capable of standing in every place but the right one. Fortunately, he was so badly positioned that Peterborough, in shock and awe, kept passing to him. McDermott mostly coped with Farrell, though Cas’s unique defending style contributed to many an alarming moment. Cas kept running up to Farrell and marking McDermott, allowing Farrell to turn or pass to the wing back, who simply swung in cross after cross after cross.