24/08 Wigan Part 2

Grimsby Town 1 Wigan Athletic 0
24 Aug 2004, Carling Cup Round 1

Second Division? Isn’t it so much easier to go back to the 1970s for your reference points? A couple of minutes after the goal Wigan got a free kick about 25 yards out. There was a bit of piddling about before it was hit rubbishly goalwards. No panic, no problem, Williams picked it up. Back came Town, Sestanovich drifting off the wing into the Kingsley Black Hole, that pit of Donovanian despond, to end some Parky-Reddy interplay with a rather airy-fairy shot from outside the area. Walsh finished reading his novella and took a goalkick.

Are we worried? No. Mitchell swayed infield and nearly dislodged the fading, raggedy baseball cap of the inhabitant of P57 with what the anorackian obsessives would call a shot. Oh, go on the, it was a shot, but not a very good one. Mahon had a shot from outside the area which bombled along, hurting no-one, not even the local worms. Ah, pleasing. More pleasing from the teasing Town tearaways upfront. Oh such sumptuousness and sumptuosity hasn’t been seen in these parts since dinosaurs roamed. Yes, it’s that obligatory Livvo reference again. A four man move culminated in Reddy spinning free inside the area and crossing from the bye-line towards Parkinson, but the linesman put his flag up for something or other. Nice play though. Lovely, smashing. Great, super.

All was fine and dandy, what a good little game we had a-going on. The crowd were calm, almost be-calmed, with only the occasional chicken counting moment. As my granny would have said if she’d thought of it "You can’t count your chicken’s before they’re boiled. How would they cross the road?" Five blokes sang "Top of the league, you’re havin’ a laff" a couple of times, but it didn’t feel like one of those gleeful games. Can you be bothered to taunt 49.7 people (excluding the coachdriver and his mates)? Oh shut up professional poultry enumerators; Wigan almost scored whilst you clucked, which is almost what you would have said if Graham’s 25 yards drifting whacker had sneaked under the bar, rather than going out for a corner. Williams stood under the ball and rabbit punched it over the top left corner of his goal. Corner cleared, Town broke: nice.

Dean Gordon eh? Darn fine man if you ask anyone sat inside Blundell Park between the hours of 19:45 and 21:35 on an unwet evening. He tackled superbly, body positioned to drive through man and ball, without giving away free kicks. The merest whiff of danger was extinguished by Golden Gordon, ably assisted by Rammy Ramsden, and Witty Whittle, the hobbling hulk from Hull. Old big ears kept getting clobbered by Wiganites, or more specifically Neil Roberts who put an arm in the face then cynically jumped at Justin. On came Dave Moore, limping on went Whittle: he looked crocked. The Pontoon had a mild panic attack when it realised that Wheeler might be wheeled on. He wasn’t, Whittle remained.

I haven’t mentioned Parkinson’s audacious lobbing volley yet. What happened? Well, the clues are there. He did a lobbing volley. The ball bounced free behind the Wigan defence on the centre right. Parkinson hared across and, from somewhere near the corner of the area, stretched and hooked a shot goalwards. The ball dipped into the first row of seats behind the goal. We ooooed, just to be keep our vocal chords working.

As the game ticked away towards half time Wigan came back again. Town were a little sleepy on the right, with Fleming and Sestanovich marking space rather that those blue things that kept running around them. A bit of chess play by Wigan resulted in their full-back having sufficient time to complete the Sun crossword. He crossed, McCulloch was unmarked near the penalty spot and flicked a soft header past Williams’ left hand post. Clear header, should have scored. Didn’t. Hooray!

"How come they are top of the Champions League?"
"Dad it’s acemer!"
"It’s like watching a good first division game."
"You look like a dancing frog."
"I failed my A-levels and look where it got me. The back of the Pontoon."
"I’d say you’re the Waldorf and Statler of the Pontoon, if I knew who they were"