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14/08 Bury 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 15/08/2004

NO changes were made by either team at half time. Town kicked off and nothing was ever the same again. Bury remained in the fourth division, humping, lumping, playing with hope rather than expectation. Town? Town got in their spaceship and blasted off to another planet entirely.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Bury (h)

Blundell Park

Grimsby Town 5 Bury 1
14 Aug 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Within a minute Parkinson had been sent free down the left. He sprinted up to the ball, did a double-piked somersault with a half twist of lemon and ran at the back-pedalling Challinor-Boo. Parky reached the penalty area right on the bye-line, turned infield, then switched back to the bye-line. Challinor-Boo used his charm to stop the jug-eared juggler, legging him up with the subtlety of a cow giving birth to triplets. The referee immediately pointed to the penalty spot without much complaint from the Bury players. Parkinson picked up the ball, set himself and with a two step "run" up tapped the ball low to the keeper’s left. Garner flung himself to that side and pushed the weak penalty away, the ball being swept out for a corner. The Bury players thanked Garner for his efforts, popping out to Cleethorpes Collectibles to buy him a figurine of a dog with a child. You never know, it might be worth something.

Pinault lobbed the corner to the near post and the ball was half cleared up in the air. A Bury hand snaked up and a Town player headed the ball against the straying limb. Penalty again! The crowd were still standing, buzzing with frustration, anger, joy and worry. Who would take it? Bring back Pouton! Sestanovich strode forward and picked up the ball, pushing aside smaller humans. That’s everyone then. Sestan wasn’t the man for penalties either, for he tapped the ball to Garner’s right, and again the goalkeeper saved easily, though this time he pushed the ball back infield. SESTANOVICH loped forward and poked in the rebound as defenders stretched every sinew to sneak the ball away. You could feel the game being sucked away from Bury, they were being overrun by events and Town. We’ve had that feeling in the last two years where Town have let go of the rope and before you know it they’re plunging down the rock face like Homer J Simpson. Only this time it wasn’t Bury who let go of the rope, but Town who yanked it away.

Town ratcheted up the pressure, flowing freely, purring like a fat cat in a creamery. Parky pestering, drifting wider, getting more effective; Mansaram being a pain to them rather than us; Sestanovich starting to rumble. Above all, Pinault waved his magic wand, safe in the knowledge that Fleming would stand around and sweep up the dust. Onwards, onwards, Bury forced back, stretched, strained, twanging and ready to snap; Town a blur of movement, the crowd roused, roaring and ready for Reddy. But not yet. Ramsden pinged a perfect pass to Pinault, fully 40 yards from right to left. Pinault waited, waited and smooched the most exquisite cushioned volley over the last defender into the stride of the onrushing Crowe. The ball bounced once and Crowe volleyed straight at the keeper from ten or so yards out, wide of goal. The Bury fans moaned when Whittle cleared a long throw, claiming a penalty, I think. I wouldn’t have given it, and the ref didn’t. In that respect he was being consistent, as he had looked kindly upon Bury’s muscular defending. Well, you see a straw you clutch it, right?

All the while Reddy was warming up, the sword of Damocles slowly swinging his legs on the touchline. Does Reddy’s moving bandage mean anything? Perhaps it’s a signal for a particular corner, or change in formation? One minute it’s above his knee, the next below on his calf. What can it mean? Or is it just a continuity error in this multiplex action thriller?

On the hour, on came yer man, the Kilkenny Koi-carp to Mansram’s dogfish. Mansaram received an ovation for his efforts, he had done well, clearly gaining a bit of confidence and causing the giant deadwoods in Bury’s depleted defence some concern. Reddy’s arrival sent Town into another universe and Bury were crushed, pulverised and buried under a Tsownami. Not mere waves, but a brutal, unstoppable force.

Anthony Williams
Justin Whittle
Simon Ramsden
Dean Gordon
John McDermott
Thomas Pinaultgoalgoal
Terry Fleming
Jason Crowe
Ashley Sestanovichgoal
Andy Parkinson
Darren Mansaramgoal


Michael Reddygoal61 mins
Stacy Coldicott81 mins
Ronnie Bull87 mins
Greg Young
Clint Marcelle


Eddie Ilderton
(Tyne & Wear)


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Around the 64th minute Town toyed with Bury down the centre right, flipping, flopping, finagling the ball around. Finally Parkinson received the ball, drifted infield slightly and from the centre dinked the most delicate of chips over the keeper from about 30 yards out. The ball looped and drooped, kissing the underside of the crossbar and bouncing out. PINAULT hared in and toe-poked the bouncing ball in from about 8 yards out. C’est bon, c’est Tom. It’s party time, and that was just the aperitif.

Town won the ball back from the kick off and the expert swordsman ripped Bury’s shirt without drawing blood. Reddy skipping, shimmering, swaying past defenders on the left after a four man pass and move. He reached the bye-line, looked up and rolled a pass across the face of goal. McDermott steamed in and from about a dozen yards out steered a left foot shot goalwards. The ball bounced off a yellow sock near the goal-line.

In the 67th minute Bury got inside the Town penalty area. Porter headed softly at Williams. A minute later and Town were showbaiting. Olé, olé, olé, oops. Pinault dispossessed, Nugent away, rolling past a Whittle waft and just Williams to beat. He tried to place the ball to Williams’ right and the hirsutely sensitive stopper blocked for a corner. That’s it for them.

Sestanovich, linking beautifully with the fearsome Reddy, drifted in from the left and pinged a shot over the angle of post and bar. Bury were dizzy, about to fall down, confused by this whirligig spinning around their ears. The Sladettes in the Pontoon were singing already, and better was to come. In the 73rd minute Town scored a beautifully crafted team goal, one that brought tears to many eyes as they enjoyed watching the woodcarver chip away at the block. McDermott, on the right touchline inside the Town half, finessed the ball up the wing to Parkinson, who flew past his nominal marker, chasing the ball towards the corner flag. He caught up with it, turned, and passed the ball back to Macca, who flipped the ball across into the penalty area. Reddy ran across the defender and flicked the ball towards the bye-line, cruising down the strip, window open, shades on, surfin’ down the Prom. He advanced along the line, looked up and passed to the far post, where PINAULT raced in and side footed the ball into the empty net. Pinault stood in front of the Pontoon and even the men without hats danced for him.

Still, there’s more. A couple of minutes later Town broke forward at speed, Parkinson and Reddy raiding on the right. The move ended only when they realised Sestanovich, who had started it all off, was in a heap in the centre holding his face. We all blamed Challinor-Boo just for old times’ sake, though it was a smaller, sturdier little scamp who did it, whatever it was. No free kick, no booking, a throw in to them. A couple of minutes after that the roving Sestanovich picked up a pass in midfield and zoomed goalwards. The bees were attracted to the honeypot and he licked a lovely pass to Reddy, who had peeled away , making two excellent little runs. The ball rolled forward and Reddy, on the centre left edge of the area, allowed the ball to run between his legs whilst running towards the Pontoon. REDDY awaited the defender, swayed across him, across another and placed a low shot in to the bottom left hand corner via Garner’s finger tips. We stood, we hailed Prince Michael. He accepted the crown.

Bury were naked before us, stripped of dignity, shredded and lying in the wastepaper bin. Town had no mercy, rolling forward, teasing, pleasing us, embarrassing them with all manner of party tricks. A couple of minutes after his goal Reddy was almost through again, the defenders scared to go near him, shuffling like Pacmen across the penalty area, and only the sheer weight of defenders stopped a goal. Or perhaps it was the sheer weight of numbers of defenders, either way, you catch the drift. And then he was off. No, not Reddy, but Pinault: the conductor passed his baton to Coldicott with 10 minutes left. And with about 5 minutes left Bull replaced McDermott, which meant Crowe went to the right, of course.

Is that it? Almost, but not before Bury were driven to madness by the, quite frankly, Mickey-taking showing off by Town. Remember that old clip of Leeds v Southampton, Town tried to do that, with Sestanovich as Johnny Giles. And finally Crowe nearly scored. Passing, passing, moving, moving, Reddy, wonderful Reddy, rolled a perfect pass into his path and Crowe sliced a shot from the centre edge of the penalty area. Garner saved extremely well to his left. Whittle hooked a shot goalwards following a corner and, in added time, Reddy seeped into the area, just outside the 6 yards box and tried an audaciously early reverse hook which he didn’t quite hit hard enough.

Bury were in trouble, under half a ton of rubble. So the ref had another cup of tea and then we went home.

Who’s having more fun than us in our footballing treehouse? If last year we were had, feeling sad and blue, this year Russ’s making us feel shiny and new. Write off the first half: the second was magnificent, supreme entertainment, and it felt like it was the norm, not a flash in the pan à la Barnsley in February. There were subtle tactical changes in the second half, especially when Reddy came on, for Parkinson went out wider and was much, much more effective. Sestanovich seemed to have a roving brief and was doing a lot of covering tackles when attacks were repulsed. And Reddy’s getting better all the time. After changing his scene he’s doing the best that he can and that’s far, far more than is needed in the fourth division. The boy has style. The defence were perkier, and Gordon got into the flow and pace of the game as it wore on. Why don’t this new Town put on the style in the first half of a game? The frontline is fearsome, at least a division below it’s true level. The garden is about to bloom.

Just one question, how high are Russ’s clouds?

Nicko’s Man of the Match

Sestanovich put in a lot of effort, especially defensively, in the second half. It’s that work ethic thing. Reddy’s cameo lifted Town up several levels but, once again, Thomas Pinault, the princely puppeteer strutted some funky stuff, floating passes in a most p-p-perculiar way. He’s causing such a stir the papers want to know whose shirt he wears. Town’s! It isn’t all pretty patterns, for there is some steel inside that French fancy. His hooking, sliding Poutonian tackle on Rob Nugent on the edge of the Town area had the ladies fainting, and the laddies praising.

Official Warning

Mr E Ilderton. He cannot get good marks, for he left Challinor on the pitch. But then again he did give Town two penalties. Should we be churlish, should we be sweet, you’ll have to wait and see. Oh, alright, 6.342.

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