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26/02 Yeovil Part 2

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 27/02/2005

A Yeovil corner after a half-hearted shot blundered off Bull’s big toe. It wasn’t remotely dangerous, worrying or bothering. Amankwaah nodded off and nodded a zillion yards wide whilst the Town defence finished their game of backgammon.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Yeovil (h)

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

Do they only choose defenders with a double "aa" in their name? Or perhaps it signifies what kind of batteries they run on.

Town on the attack! Well, I say attack, more like Town players in their half of the pitch. There was a theoretical possibility of a shot, but insufficient data has been compiled for the Royal Society to come to a conclusion. It would be speculative to speculate about a spectacle. Gritton again flicking Parkinson tentatively free down the inside left channel. Amankwaaaah stepped out in polite society, chucking a cup of water over Parky. Amankwaaaaaaaah, what is he good for?

Ten minutes of noodling and doodling. The crowd slightly bored, but not unhappy. It was pleasantly uninteresting.

The pitter-patter of tiny feet was heard, the Celtic jumpsuits were gaily galloping forward. Like any modern parent, old mother Town gave the children enough space for play, but within specified boundaries so no harm could be done. There, there, do what you like 30 yards from goal, but don’t go near any sharp edges. Urgh, tears and tantrums from Town, as DAVIES clapped a very ordinary shot towards the bottom left hand corner. Williams kept his feet firmly rooted to the ground (he’s not going to let playing for glamorous Grimsby go to his head) and swayed to his left. The ball skipped off the turf and through his hands. Yet another goal conceded through a low shot to his left. The crowd exploded, the Town players looked at him with disgust, only Bull showed any support. Well, he would, he’s in the same boat. The one we all want to push out of into the Humber without a paddle. What was Williams doing? Perhaps he’d been struck down with ennui . A daydreaming boy, tomorrow he'll pay the dues for dropping the load. A pie in the face for being a sleep'n bulldog.

Williams, a man alone, he didn’t turn to face his demons in the Pontoon. Some of us may look like extras in the Dukes of Hazzard, but he’s played for Hartlepool, he’s seen worse.

The rest of the half, yes all 35 minutes, was a series of flufferies and bufferies, with nothing of any interest, but you’re going to read about them anyway. There’s someone in deepest Peru who demands to know everything, a man who hankers for knowledge of misplaced crosses, and unusual flight-paths adopted by the roosting pigeons in the Main Stand. No plastic bags billowed across the pitch today, no sausage rolls were thrown at the corner flags. Just a hum-drum hubbub of average nonsense.

Gritton crossed, no-one there. A blast from the recent past, Jevons finally touched the ball, skipping, slipping, flipping a rubbish shot way over the bar. Ah, the golden days of the golden boy, three years of shrugging and shaking, replayed again. He hasn’t come back to taunt or haunt us after all. Same old, same old, from pheromone Phil. Some nice moments, way outside the box though.

Twenty five minutes and finally a Town effort on goal. A corner, a free header, flicked wide. Crowe the culprit, perhaps ten yards out, nearish the near post. Should have scored, didn’t, no-one surprised. Hardly an "Ooooh" in the ground. As the game bored on the Town fans began to get a bit annoyed. "Is this it?" Yeovil were barely better than Chester. Their defence looked dreadful, four sticks of celery and a banana, which I’m sure will turn up as Dish of the Day sometime.

Anthony Williams
Simon Ramsdenyellow card
Terrell Forbes
Justin Whittle
Ronnie Bull
Jason Crowe
Terry Fleming
Stacy Coldicott
Andy Parkinsongoal
Martin Grittongoal
Michael Reddy


Thomas Pinault70 mins
Tony Crane
John McDermott
Rob Jones
Graham Hockless


Darren Drysdale


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How about today Town? Just keep on pressing, Amankwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah will crumble, he’s a large man whose legs move quickly sometimes. Any other resemblance to a professional footballer is entirely coincidental. Bananaman in goal seems to believe he’s the sweeper, that or his six yards box is electrified. He kept creeping up behind his centre-backs and shouting boo as they tried to clear.

Wahey, another shot from the helicopter boys. Sliced 18 yards wide from way out side the box. Have you got it yet? They didn’t get inside the Town box, although Williams did, once, catch a Jevons cross; or was it a fallen star? Here’s another, volleyed towards the KC and the Sunshine Band Stadium. Peter Taylor put in a bid, he needs a 37th choice striker.

Gritton, turning, crossing and doing it again. Wasting his time really, Reddy was forever out wide, and everyone else was tending their prize marrows in their allotments. If we had a shot sometime, maybe, just maybe, we’d score. Looking back, I do have the faintest image burned upon my retina of Crowe shooting towards goal. Or perhaps the Chester farrago is forever etched upon my damaged psyche. I’m scarred for life! The horror, the horror.

More tippy-tappy stuff from Yeovil. Nothing to report. They looked like a Premier club’s decent, but not scary, youth team. Lots of niceness, no punch.

Gritton received a free kick in the centre, turned and flaked a shot out for...a throw us. Now, for those who have short lunch hours that was a highlight, even more so than their midfielder’s hair. Ramsden was booked for clobbering the moaning Pole, Tarachulski. That was really the only contribution Tarachulski made to road safety. As the game wept towards half time Town’s defence began to play like puppies. Bull crumbling when last man, Whittle shinning passes out of touch, playing head tennis inside the six yards box as Williams stood and stared on his line.

Ramsden kicked one of their little men again, the referee had a chat, the half ended. One shot on target, one goal. Two distinctly average teams playing in a field.

Half time: Grimsby Town 0 Yeovil 1
You’ve had the action, what about the summary. Fleming was on the pitch, but that’s all that can be said; Coldicott started to strut, an impassable barrier in front of the defence, even managing to pass accurately twice, and the game was only half over! Forbes had a pocket, and pollypocket Phil was in it. This Gall chap was supposed to be wizzo. Was he playing?

We just couldn’t understand how they’d managed to score so many goals. It was easy to see why they’d conceded so many. The door was half open, it just needed a little shove.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk

"They never did find the radioactive tiddlywink of Wintringham."
"Bring Pinault on for Williams. We don’t need a keeper."
"I only came today because it was too cold to go out."
"Our immutable law of the ex says they play even worse against us than for us."
"So Halifax is the new York."

The report continues in the Second Half.

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