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18/09 Leyton Orient Part 2

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 19/09/2004

ORIENT whacked the ball downfield, down the channels, forcing Town to give away throw-ins galore. Ah-ha, that’s the secret of their success. Big blokes and long throws. The long throws were uniformly rubbish, the Town centre backs nodding away at will.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Leyton Orient (h)

Grimsby Town 2 Leyton Orient 0
18 Sep 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Or perhaps nodding off at will, bored by this basic, dire, dismal tactic. We began to feel sorry for the Orient supporters if they had to watch this every week. Guileless, as stylish as Brentford Nylons, what joy would one get from paying to watch it? It’s cheaper to watch it on CEEFAX, and just as entertaining. Shall we be magnanimous and think that this was a special tactic just for us; it can’t be the "real" Leyton O’s, can it?

Hang in, don’t get too cocky about these Cockneys. After a bout of head tennis and general boxing inside the Town area Whittle managed to clear the ball against Macca’s bottom for a corner. Orient curled the ball slowly towards a bunch of big blokes, one of them headed it and the ball bumbled slowly a few feet wide of Williams’ right hand post. No threat whatsoever. A loud "Pfft" sound was emitted by the Pontoon.

So far, so easy in defence, with Gordon and Forbes looking exceedingly excellent. Gordon was like a police road block, politely pointing their strikers the way out of town, his telescoping legs poking the ball and wheedling away danger, whilst Forbes was like an aggressive (and awake) Simon Ford. You know, Simon Ford before he had that space cadet glow. And Whittle was heading the ball to his heart’s content. Town attacking? Erm, well, mmm, some nice passing in midfield, with Pinault pulling the strings, but Parkinson kept drifting offside. Sestanovich was on the pitch, occupying several feet of grassland, munching his way through several bales of hay. After about a quarter of an hour Town got a free kick on the centre left of the Orient penalty area after three, count them, three quick passes the ball flipped up to Parkinson. Sestanovich and Gordon stood over the ball. Stan the Rented Van or Golden Gordon? Unfortunately, the transit van with the dodgy suspension took it, lifting the ball against the head of the last man in the wall. Out for a throw in; sit down again and watch the ships go into Immingham.

Is this the spark plug? Parkinson tapped the ball down the left behind the defence. Reddy raced after it, Harrison wandered out of goal. Harrison lunged, White stretched, Reddy flicked the ball past. Reddy caught the ball up near the edge of the penalty area and, at a very tight angle, knocked the ball goalwards. The ball rolled along and a defender calmly collected up his belongings, picked up some crisp packets that were fluttering across the goalmouth, and strolled off towards the car park. No Town player was within 10 yards of the penalty area, let alone inside it.

Around the 20th minute two things happened. Orient had a shot, which was nice for their supporters, and nice for Williams too. And Pinault was crocked by Alexander (who was booked). He slid in manfully to win the ball and received a stud in the knee and a boot in his ménage a trios. After some cold water was applied to the Dordogne he went off to the dressing room for three minutes. Unusually, Town didn’t concede when temporarily down to 10 men. Orient really hadn’t done their homework, had they? They couldn’t score a quick one while he’s away. Or perhaps Town’s temporary two centre backs were very good?

The game became even more fractured and fractious as it meandered towards half time. The Orient number 11, Scott, was an annoying little pimple on the backside of football. He dived poorly, then moaned when the referee didn’t give him free kicks. He was utterly imbecilic when Town were awarded a throw in next to the Police Box.

Anthony Williams
Justin Whittle
Terrell Forbes
Dean Gordon
Terry Fleming
John McDermott
Thomas Pinaultgoal
Jason Crowegoal
Ashley Sestanovich
Andy Parkinson
Michael Reddy


Chris Williams
Greg Young
Paul Robinson
Ronnie Bull
Stacy Coldicott


Kevin Wright


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Scott trotted up behind Crowe and knocked the ball away as the throw in was about to be taken. Stupid boy. And let’s not overlook his elbow towards Sestanovich when Orient were preparing to take a free kick about 40 yards out. Stood on the edge of the Town penalty area he clearly threw his arm at Sestan’s face. Missing, fortunately. The ref, unfortunately, missed it, but was alerted to something happening by a lone cry from the Pontoon. He had a little word with both, telling them to stop whatever they’d done, presumably in Sestan’s case it was "stop poncing about on the wing doing nothing".

Footballers eh? You can tell them once, you can tell them twice, but they never listen to any advice. Sestan was terrible, succeeding only in failing, matched only by Parkinson in his ineffectiveness. Poor old Parky, like someone was riding on his head with a furry donkey. He tried and tried and tried and tried, but he was carried along only by the momentum of his own incompetence today. Shame really. Don’t expect any stories of derring do, Town had one other effort in the first half, just before halftime when Reddy nodded softly into the arms of Mary, sorry, Harrison, from a Pinault cross. There were allegations that Macca and Parkinson had shots, but the Town Prosecution Service refused to take this to court through lack of evidence.

Not that the game was totally bereft of ...I’m lying, it was. They had some shots, they weren’t very good. Williams wasn’t forced to touch the ball. The Orient fans finally pierced the silence with a song - "one ball, you’ve only got one ball" as a slack steward took ages to retrieve the ball from the empty seating twixt Osmond and Smiths/Stones/Findus. The secret of great comedy is timing, supposedly. As they sang a second ball was thrown on the pitch, so their comic wind was taken out of their cosmic sails. Not that the Town fans had read the runes or the tea leaves either. They attempted some half-baked attempt at inter-communal needling of their own. "Can you hear the Leyton sing?" they asked, two seconds after the Leyton fans had sung. Are we deaf or stupid? We are here, waiting for half time.

Half time: Grimsby Town 0 Leyton Orient 0

At last, half time, we can do something else with our lives.

The first half was rotten really. Leyton Orient had been awful, the worst team we’ve encountered so far this season. Town were lethargic in attack, but untroubled in defence. Pinault was crocked, Sestanovich was cracked. Town’s plan B was to tipple the ball over the top and rely on Reddy. Not a totally daft idea given that Orient’s ‘keeper had a mad desire to skip gaily out of his area and pretend to be a road sweeper, whistling happy tunes with a cheery, beery smile.

Not now Arthur.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk

"We’ve got a good defence now they’re all injured."
"I find it difficult to get into Stacy’s head."
"I can believe one of these teams is fourth from bottom."
"Stand further back, I can’t get your feet in."
"Pretend this sandwich is the ball."

The report continues in the Second Half.

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