22/02 Chester 2nd Half

Grimsby Town 1 Chester City 0
22 Feb 2005, Coca Cola League 2

The game re-started, apparently. Nobody noticed and nobody really cared. Going through the motions of support - being physically present with occasional noise. The die-hards hardly care now.

The Devamen were dragged down to Town’s level of ineptness. They kept the ball, but did even less with it. Transit Van was booed, cut down with a statement of truth: "What a waste of talent". Indeed sir, that’s his tragedy, not ours. Reddy made a run down the right, and crossed to the near post. The ‘keeper caught it, wearing his shirt al fresco, or maybe al dente.

Crowe was nudged by Sestanovich. He stopped, shrugged, moaned, and stood still as Rancid Stan raced off. A hole on the right, filled by Ramsden. Crowe walked, Gritton threw some epithets. The subs warmed up.

On the hour, on came Parkinson and Pinault for Crowe and Hockless. Hockless is more a merlot than Merlin.

What is that formation? A wobbly 4-4-2, or wibbly 4-3-3? Ramsden at right back, Pinault on the left of midfield? Weird man. A shot. Pinault to Parky, space ignored, a dipping dopper from 20 yards, lilting a few feet wide.

Tony Gallimore wasn’t so bad after all.

The snow fell, but not hard enough. End it, end it now, we need footballing euthanasia, that’s Town’s real youth policy.

Fleming passed to Rancid Stan. He never passed to him when he was ours, why did he start now?

Seventy minutes gone? Please say it’s seventy eight. It isn’t. Twenty more minutes of frozen water torture. Everything was wellied upfield. We wanted to cry.

Ten minutes left, people leaving. Would anyone be left? Hang on. Pinault, finally given the ball, turning, burning down the centre. A look, a perfect pass inside the left back, Parkinson racing into the area, lapping a low cross through the six yards box. GRITTON, unmarked, five yards out, shinned the ball high into the net. Gritton booked for scoring.

One moment of magic, one moment of skill, that’s all it took, that’s all we got.

Chester had a shot, maybe it was now, maybe it was earlier - it was wide so not a problem. What’s going on? A million minutes of added time? Gritton 25 yards out, on the left. A cross? A shot? A swinging blue jeans swirler, twirling towards the top left hand corner. Brown did a Lindy hop across his line, tipping it away for a corner. Away, back, Pinault in space, 30 yards out. Brown off his line, Pinault lobbed, Brown plucked his eyebrows, then the ball from the sky.

C’mon, it’s nearly midnight; the gritters have been out. Oh,oh,oh,oh,oh. Bull missed the ball, Whittle fleeced by a yellow man, flailing at scampering feet. Some Chester man in the area, whistling to the byeline, pulling the ball back and an unmarked Devant thighed it to the near post. Williams hooked the ball away, with Whittle swiping clear.

The End.