The Dish Ran Away with the Spoon:Cheltenham Report

Grimsby Town 1 Cheltenham 1
01 Oct 2004, Coca Cola League 2

They were a bit noisy and smiling, like they were excited. So clearly not. 90 minutes of Town’ll wipe the smile of your faces, laddie-me-boy. There were even people sat in the green seats twixt Pontoon and Main Stand.

Town lined up in the 3-4-3 formation, as shown. Not much to say there, is there, apart from Cramb’s hair, which is far too youth-team-trendy for a veteran journeyman bruiser passing by on his way back to the Conference.

Cheltenham lined up in a galaxy far, far away in what looked suspiciously similar to Town’s away kit last year: all amorphous greys and maroons. With any luck they’d play like last year’s Town: dazed and marooned.

Dish of the Day : Stacy’s chicken and pasta. How very, very unexciting. I suppose it’d fill a hole. Food that’d do in lieu of some chips: it’s better than nothing.

1st half

Town kicked off towards the Osmond End, with Pinault whopping the ball out towards the marauding Macca. One of their big blokes headed it infield and Chelters took possession. We sat down again, excitement over. These maroon menacers walloped the ball towards another big bloke and won a throw in under the Police Box. Yawn, a long one. Yawn, Williams caught it. Or maybe he didn’t. Pfft. Who cares. Nothing happened. Then they got another throw in underneath the Police Box. We continued yawning.

Distracted by a pigeon, there is a yawning gap in our collective knowledge that needs filling. How did the ball get to Cheltenham’s penalty area? Reddy challenged just outside the box, the ball rolled to Crowe, who hit the floor like Wiley Coyote as a West Country leg of lamb poked at his ankles. Penalty! Indeed it was sir. Pinault strode forward, bandy legs bandying in the breeze. He plonked the ball on the spot, took two steps back, gracefully rocked upon his left foot and....dribbled a drabbler a foot wide of the ‘keepers right-hand post. I blame the blue tarpaulin that was mysteriously draped across a block of seats behind the goal. Bad Karma for Pingu. Dean Gordon raised an eyebrow or three.

Forget the next 10 minutes. I have.

Town had the ball but weren’t doing anything with it. There was the occasional pass, and the occasional movement, but these occasionals rarely met in space and time. Cheltenham had a casual acquaintance with the ball. They certainly recognised it when they passed in the street, but couldn’t quite remember where from. Best to smile, utter an inanity and walk on. In other words, they kept wellying it towards the big left back, who headed it on towards the big centre forward. Not subtle, not effective. Their number 18, Vincent, could run exceedingly quickly though.

Ah, something to write home about. Dear Mum, we had a shot. Near the quarter hour a corner, or cross, or perhaps something else beginning with "c" was cleared out to Fleming, about 20 yards out in the centre. The Flemster leapt and lapped a volley across the face of goal, the ball drifting a foot or so wide of the left-hand post. That nearly got the children singing. A minute or so later we really were a knockout sound. Fleming nicked the ball in midfield on the right somewhere, knocking the ball forward to Pinault who, with his back to goal, hit a marvellous first time pass over the top. McDermott rumbled along, zapping the full back with his siren and getting to the bye-line. Macca lobbed a teasing cross into the centre. Reddy was near, the ball travelled behind him, seemingly behind PARKINSON, but no, the perkyman swivelled and hooked a volley into the bottom right hand corner. Perkyman: aren’t they cards that children in Hull collect? Wahey, wo-ho, contentment all around.