Scrappy Doo: Stockport Report

Grimsby Town 1 Stockport County 1
15 Nov 2003, Nationwide League Division 2

Neither one thing nor the other really. The only sound was the occasional boo for Challinor, warming up with the yellow perils far, far away.

There was very little to divert the diverted mind, with only the fine range of hattery to amuse and sometimes bemuse. One particularly fine example caused minor mayhem in the Pontoon, for the club didn’t print "restricted view" on the tickets of those around him. Opinion was divided on whether he played blues guitar every other Thursday at the Spiders Web, or he was an Indian tracker, seeking the long lost trail of Phil Jevons career.

Town lined up in a 4-4-2 formation, as shown. So it was to be Young at left back, replacing the podgy poodler. If the crowd could have been bothered, there would have been a murmur of concern. That non-existent concern was assuaged by the sight of Davison, towel on shoulders, stalking the edge of the penalty area, glaring and glowering towards the Stockport players. Ah the towel, the puzzle solved. It’s those hour long pre-match Vicks Vapour Rub sessions, isn’t it - head over a bucket, ‘flu gone.

The Stockport players were in the distance, murky, mysterious and of mild interest. They all appeared tall and spindly, apart from a very, very small left back, like a slimline Ben Chapman.

1st half

Town kicked off, with Crowe carefully curling a pass down the touchline for Onuora to look at with a perplexed expression. Only 10 yards in front of him as it sailed out into the Main Stand. A team finally at ease with its 2nd Division status, aimless punting comes naturally now.

And what a deceptively interesting start it was, with Stockport looking satisfyingly chaotic in defence and a little feeble in attack. Remember, I did say deceptively. Within a minute Boulding had surged down the right, chasing a chipped channel ball (as men in overcoats like to shout on Sunday mornings). He twisted, turned and pushed the central defender away using both hands. Down went the defender, up went Boulding’s dander and fluff went the shot, from about 8 yards out, dragged, scuffled and rolling to the ‘keeper with a sheepish look. A minute or so later Town drove forward through Hamilton who passed directly to a defender, who gave it back again before the music stopped. Deso pushed his chest forward, his shoulders back, lovely boy, and blasted his way through the defence. Into the area, on the right, about 10 yards out, goalkeeper standing in an indefinite fashion in an indeterminate position. Hamilton totally miss-hit the shot, as it rolled, rolled, and rolled to Spencer, who shined his shoes, flicked stray hairs away from his left eye and then picked the ball up as he arranged a dinner party with his defenders.

Stockport had a break away, on their right with a big bruiser thwacking a shot from 20 yards about three yards wide of Davison’s left hand post. The Pontoon jeered and conveniently overlooked the dreadful defending which allowed them to shoot, with Crane and Crowe standing, staring and shrugging whilst Stockportians moved. But what do we care, Town are ace, Town are surging, surging, surging, Flicking, tricking, swanning up the right, space to be filled only by those in stripes. McDermott and Campbell exchanging passes, crossing towards Onoura whose head touched the ball. On to Anderson at the far post, a dozen yards out, a jink, a junk shot, dribbling to Spencer. Ooh Betty. Again, repeat Macca move, with Campbell releasing Methuselah behind the defence, near the corner flag. A low, zipping cross to the near post was headed out for a corner by Clare, who was himself headed away for a corner by Onuora.