Petering Out: Peterborough Report

Peterborough United 3 Grimsby Town 2
06 Dec 2003, FA Cup Round 2

The sturdy roof and concrete terracing provided a great echo chamber-ber-ber-er for a medley of hits from the 70s, 80s and early 90s. Us Town fans were so caught up in our own little social whirl that the Peterborough mascot was hardly noticed - a white rabbit. If you want to know how tall it was, just ask Alice.

Town lined up in a 4-4-2 formation, as shown. Everyone was not stood where you’d expect them to be, for Anderson started on the right of midfield, and Jevons was on the pitch. And both were white booted. Town warmed up with a new routine - a one touch huddle, where Hamilton kept miss-controlling; followed by alternate headers and volleys, with Hamilton again the final fumbler. And then came the shooting practice, Jevons and Anderson taking it in turns to knock shrink wrapped pies out of the hands of unwary supporters.

And today’s programme faux pas was provided by that old "can’t tell ‘em apart" stereotype. "Iffy Onoura (pictured below)". That’ll be that Derrick Hamilton bloke, who the programme claimed was "another well known face in the Town side". Shall we ponder that awhile and then pass over it?

1st half

To a raucous roar, Town kicked off towards their grand fans, delaying the welly out of play for several seconds, sneakily using Hamilton’s shins to do the dirty work. The first ten minutes or so were fine, nothing scary, nothing tremendously exciting. The Poshite fans were sparsely sprinkled around the ground and, apart from a knot of a dozen or so Burberry types to our right, eerily silent.

Town had much the better of this dull start with high balls pumped up to Onuora causing as much concern in the heart of the Peterborough defence as it did in the heart of the Town supporters. Big balls? Hoofing? Never works for Town, does it. Well, it almost did this time. Barnard lumped a free kick straight down the middle up to the edge of their penalty area. Onoura rocked and rolled, the defender creaked and suddenly Iffy had chested the ball down and was free. The ball bounced, bounced again, Iffy pondered, Iffy’s legs moved and a defender raced across, blocking the shot. Almost, almost.

A couple of minutes later another big welly landed on Onuora, and it wasn’t a literal one chucked by the more irate Town supporters. The defence parted in awe, a chorus of angels sang. Transfixed by all this space and light Iffy bundled across the area searching for something, he knew not what. Then he found it, the safety of the known world - a defender’s boot. You may well laugh, or even cry, but this was very strange - opponents fazed by beefy route one football from Town. Town had corners, Town threw in crosses, Posh under pressure, sinking slowly towards their own goal. Yes, that’s what we need - an own goal. A shot! At last, after about 10 minutes and it brought a flutter to the heart of those romantic souls who pine for the fjord that is pheromone Phil. The enigmatic (© Neil Woods 1992) drifter exchanged passes with Anderson after McDermott had surged forward, ripping apart the Peterborough left. A high ball controlled on his toe, pulled down, swaying, swishing, thwacking a wobbling shot towards goal from the centre right, about 25 yards out. Tyler started to dive right, re-adjusted and grappled to his left, clutching the ball at the second go. Another minute, another Town shot. The ball was worked across the pitch and to the left. Campbell cut infield and curled a right foot shot from the edge of the penalty area towards the top left hand corner. Tyler clung to the ball as it zoomed goalwards.