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26/02 Yeovil 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 27/02/2005

NO changes were made by either team at half time. How would their fruit and veg defence cope with a second half onslaught from the Pontoon? Let the ceremony begin.

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

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

Town kicked off, booted it away and Yeovil nearly scored. Breaking away down their right some bloke, could even have been the heavenly Jevonly boy, slapped a stinger from the corner of the penalty area towards Williams’ top near post. Up came a light blue arm, over the bar flipped the ball. Corner, scramblage, corner, shottage, nothing of noteage.

Town started to do the second-half-attacking-the-Pontoon-thing they do - finally dinking passes behind full backs and up to Gritton and Reddy, not over their heads, with midfielders vaguely supporting. Result: Pontoon vaguely supporting. A brief flurry of Town attacks saw Gritton almost flick Parky free, Reddy rave down the right, Gritton down the left. Yeovillians were being pushed back slowly towards their bizarre bananakeeper. Crosses, corners, free kicks, and only a terrible Crowe volley to tell you about. Pressure slowly turning, belief slowly, slowly seeping through the Town arteries.

After five or so minutes the crowd dulled again, as the game boogied down in midfield slap and tickles. Out of nowhere the crowd threw off the shackles of months of boredom and pain, deciding this was the moment to start supporting. A minor Town attack, a throw and suddenly the roars started. Then "Pinault, Pinault, Pinault, Pinault" an incessant beat tapped out. Demands made but ignored. Ah, but the very thought of him was enough to cause Yeovil to wilt. They fear his name. A free kick out on the left, the crowd still calling. The ball was pumped into the centre of the area. Gritton challenged and the ball was bibbled away, but only to the edge of the box, where Reddy swizzled and smashed a volley low to they ‘keeper’s right. The ball squeezed through Weale’s hands and skidded and stumbled towards the right hand corner, energy lost with each revolution. GRITTON raced forward, slid and toe-poked the ball in from a foot out, as the ball crawled to a halt. The valve was open and the steam whistling out. The world was different.

Just after the restart Gritton and Reddy tackled each other as they laid off a pass to Crowe. With the toothsome twosome writhing on the floor the referee took one look and allowed play to continue, with Crowe taking the high speed monorail as his full back waited for the 9X. Surging on, urged on by the roused Pontoon, Crowe caused minor panic with a cross that was shinned away for a corner. The noise was like old times. The Yeovilites quaked. Have they never heard a crowd before?

They quivered when, with about 25 minutes left, Pinault raced on to replace the existential enigma, Terry "the sausage dog" Fleming. The crowd noise ratcheted up to another level. Flicking and tricking down the right, Ramsden swayed a cross to the far post, Gritton, stumbling backwards, headed at Weale from about 6 yards out. Monochrome momentum sweeping over the Mummerset men, Town encamped in their half, the Weebles were wobbling. A sound not heard for months, like the first cuckoo of spring: "Mariners, Mariners".

But they hadn’t fallen down yet. A break, a blur of green, the Town defence pulled right, exposed to the left, Davies took his windsurfer into the Town area and flibbled a low shot across Williams and.... just wide of the far post. It’s still alive Doctor. Another break down their right, a cross, Jevons headed wide at the near post. The patient is demanding food and a daily paper, better keep an eye on it. Not Nil By Mouth just yet.

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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With 20 minutes left Town scored a second. Sorry, Town should have scored a second. Reddy, in the centre circle, facing the Town goal, perched on his left leg and flicked the ball over the top with his right. Parkinson sprinted off , behind the full back, one nod, the ball slipping goalwards. Onwards, ever onwards, into the area, Weale falling, defenders stretching and Parkinson shot with his left foot from about twelve yards out, just wide of goal. The ball bumbled through the area, across the face of goal and missed the left hand post by inches.

Weale, a flapper, a slapper, a trapper of balls, but not a catcher or saver. Crosses rabbit-punched away, back passes casually stroked to team-mates, inches from Reddy and Gritton. He loved coming out his area and Town could have had a couple more with his one man song and dance show. Out on the left he almost tackled his full back with the ball stationery underneath the Police Box. Skiverton passed to Parkinson, Parky failed to shoot with the ‘keeper still a few yards outside his area. Have we finally found a worse ‘keeper than Williams?

Still Yeovil continued to treat us to a masterclass in non-League defending, continually passing directly to Town players. Do you think we frightened them with all that noise? Pinault intercepting on the half way line, nodding to Parky, racing into the unmanned Yeovil half. Parkinson passed too late, Pinault given offside. The celery being salted. Ay up matey, what’s this? A soft free kick to Yeovil, a hoopster crumpling when the wind blew. Just outside the area, to the left of Williams’ goal, all set for you know who to make us miserable now. Williams hid behind the wall, a chasm to his left, Jevons hovering. YES! Some daft fullback type curled the ball over the bar.

Yeovil were a little worrying on the break with their impressive movement, but there’s always a Town foot, knee and backside around when you need it. Whittle huge, hulking, happily nodding crosses clear. Forbes oozing and schmoozing these little green bug-eyed monsters away.

And still they passed to Town. And still Town avoided shooting. With three minutes left another dreadful pass by a Yeovillian defender went straight to Parkinson on the left, about 35 yards out. Parky purred down the wing, drew two defenders on his sketch pad and sidled through a gap between them, cutting infield towards the corner of the penalty area. Another defender feinted with a swish of his hip, a fourth mesmerised into a catatonic state by his swinging pants. In the centre, near the penalty spot PARKINSON snitched a low shot slightly to the right of Weale. The ball trundled in, the town erupted with joy. After eight months of missing he’s finally done it; what a little cracker. Celery soup for tea with some nice cheesey baps.

"Seventeenth? We’re having a laugh"

Yeovil had no option but to pour forward, leaving gaps for Town to cruise into. Almost from the off Town should have scored again; Reddy hassling a defender into error, racing clear down the right with just Weale to beat. He looked up, saw Pinault unmarked beyond the penalty spot and overhit his final touch, passing straight to the sliding banana. Grrr, should have been three. There were two minutes of added time, most of which were taken up with Town wasting time in the various corners. A free kick to Yeovil, smashed high in to the box, Whittle tumbling, a free kick to Town! Ticking away, forty seconds left, Town dawdling. Twenty second left, a Yeovil throw in. Ten second left, breathing stops. The ball headed into the Town area, behind Ramsden. Jevons goalside, Ramsden dancing cheek to cheek, Jevons fell. A momentary silence, four thousand pairs of eyes immediately turn to stare at one man. A thought bubble rose from his head, one leg planted forward, both arms together, then out again, like Barbara Windsor in Carry on Camping. No penalty. The Yeovillers’ bra fell off and they chased the ref, harangued him for something or other, can’t think what, then slunk off as the game was over. Take up thy cider and walk.

What was that all about then? Table-toppingly average opponents; Town roaring back, backed by a roaring crowd. Have we just had enough of feeling sorry for ourselves, let’s go out on a high? We’ve tried everything else, perhaps backing the team might just help. Well, they responded and gave us something to feed off. Our love isn’t unconditional, they have to show they care too. Defensively Town were rock solid, apart from Williams’ usual error. I suppose we just have to factor that into the equation now by deducting the square root of Williams’ shoe size. Elsewhere there was a conspicuous attempt to avoid lumping and pumping. It would help if we had anyone who could actually pass it somewhere in the team. But at least they tried to do the right thing. And clearly it was enough, wasn’t it.

For Yeovil, Weale is the banana skin waiting to madden, they twittered about in the middle of the pitch, and did nothing spectacular going forward. They were supposed to be good, to be scary, they caused less problems than Notts County. What’s all the fuss about?

There we are. When they get the zen in motion, Town can do it; but then we know that. A dozen more zen games and who knows, eh? We may even finish in the top half. This was a good day, when Town finally got what they deserved out of a game. Let’s just suck on that lollipop. Mmm, tasty.

Nicko’s Man of the Match

Ramsden did exceedingly well in a daft position, and Terrell Forbes was generally flawless. But you can’t make a man wearing stockings the man of the match, it’s the law. So, for all round effort and for the cheek in stealing Reddy’s goal it’s Mr Martin Gritton. Why? As the man says "Does Jimmy Saville wear a tracksuit?"

Official Warning

Mr D Drysdale from Clee Road. Not particularly anything. Perhaps a little indulgent at times, not clamping down on the inability of Yeovil players to withstand a peck on the cheek and some light ear blowing. Hey, but he came up trumps at the end. So 8.653, but it you wear green hooped shirts, you’d probably take 10 away. It’s about time a referee didn’t annoy us.

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