The Mooney’s a Balloon: Oxford Report

Grimsby Town 2 Kidderminster Harriers 1
20 Nov 2004, Coca Cola League 2

The club handed out some Christmas balls for da kids, and the rest of that line writes itself.

Town lined up in what qualified architects believe to be a 4-4-2 formation as shown, including Colin Cramb (a professional footballer of no fixed abode). Some children sobbed when they saw Hockless shuffle through the Norwegian Gates, hands in pocket, new slick hair casually flowing across his forehead like it was Killingholme Beck. Someone should tell him a gentleman never wears brown in Town. Oh, the team and formation and all that. Self explanatory: four full backs, Little and Large at the back, Pinky and Parky upfront. Pinault the pinnacle of possession, all roads lead through gnome.

Oxford looked to be a bit bigger than Town, and younger. Such a shame Mark E-Bay wasn’t in their squad, nor Glen Down-Louthmarket in ours. He doesn’t exist, does he. He’s a virtual player in someone’s computer simulation game.

The partially deaf Town fans were all terribly disappointed that Cameron Diaz couldn’t be bothered to get out of that sun-smacked swimming pool chaise longue to come to glorious, glamorous Grimsby. Some people wouldn’t know style if it was wrapped up in a Christmas ball and thrown at them by a group of 10 year olds from the Nunny.

Dish of the Day: Paul Fraser’s Christmas dinner. Lots of Brussels sprouts, which explains his expression.

Ready, steady, go: the weekend starts here.

1st half

Town kicked off and managed to lose possession within three touches. Oh, dear, they look pretty tasty. Movement, pace, verve and vim. A marvellous minute, not yet bettered in this division, followed by a pretty good 30 seconds. A kaleidoscope of yellow, twisting and turning, bedazzling Town. But nothing happened to frighten Williams’ horses.

It’s nice of them to let Thomas be Town’s engine. Oxford kept a respectful distance from Le Maestro and allowed him to sweep his seductive baton across the orchestra, spreading magic and mayhem with perfectly weighted passes and flighted fancies. Glissando, vibrato, pizzicato, just three of the strikers Slade has had on trial this season, who would have benefited from the French philosopher.

Cramb, tickled free, on the centre right, turned and thwaddled a shot against the post. Stay in that armchair your niece bought from Shackleton’s. He was offside. No, not fair, he wasn’t offside, Parkinson was. Is that John Tondeur’s most overused phrase this season? "Parkinson offside"? Or is it "Parkinson not offside, but...". The phone lines are open until midnight and calls are charged at local rates (for Colombia).

Oxford’s ‘keeper was very young and very cocky, strutting and strolling around in front of the Pontoon. Huge hands and huge hair. Bradie Clarke with bunches in his hair. He was starting to get some lip and stick from the more excitable Pontoonites when, in the 11th minute, he flew through the air with the greatest of ease, spectacularly pushing aside a Bull shot (be careful!). Pinault, who else, massaged Town free in midfield, the ball stroked around and across from right to left, with Bull advancing into the centre, unimpeded, as defenders backed away. The pint pot hotshot flannelled a wheezing, dipping drive from about 25 yards out, sailing across Clarke towards the left corner. You know whodunit, and the denouement. The epilogue was a corner, credits rolled. No further action. Cue the music.