The Grimsby Town FC

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Willo: Free Kicks
Willo: Free Kicks

16/04 Notts Co 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 17/04/2005

COUNTY made a change at half time, bringing on Scoffham for Hurst. County up and at Town. From some kind of something, something happened. A couple of minutes into the half the ball was lobbed high into the box from their left, probably a long throw; they had loads of them.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Notts Co (a)

Meadow Lane

Notts County 2 Grimsby Town 2
16 Apr 2005, Coca Cola League 2

Are we watching football or chuckball these days? It was half-cleared out to the centre right and Pipe chested down and hit a slicing, looping volley goalwards. Williams, way off to his right, flew across and plopped the ball aside as it bounced up in front of him A good save. More County pressure, big Baudet up and menacing the innocent cattle penned inside the Town area. He could be arrested for acting suspiciously in a suspicious manner. Nothing's gonna happen, but the curtain twitchers think it may, so call the local constabulary; he's wearing a shell suit.

Oh dear, what's happened here then? After three minutes Coldicott walked off the pitch. Enter le bouc émissaire Français, Professor Pinault: the temperamental talisman. Such space, such a canvass on which to paint. Err, why is he playing as the defensive midfield enforcer? A Sladian masterstroke, the mere presence of Pinault disturbed County so much they imploded. The ball was dinked towards Parkinson on the left, a defender stroked the ball away straight to Fleming's thigh. At full pelt the great Flemini thundered forward, thighing the ball a full ten yards into a space between the Cat and his three blind mice of a defence. The goalkeeper hesitated, the defence pickled itself in aspic, and CROWE sprinted forward, poked out a big toe and the ball looped into the top right hand corner. Oh how we laughed: passing and movement fourth division style. Just forty minutes to hang on to what we've got.

What again? Within a minute Gritton walked off, replaced by Reddy the Battery Boy. Nevermind, eh? Two up, the passer and the sprinter on, and the opposition looking like they'd rather paint along with Nancy. Nothing to worry about.

Doo-di-doo, time for the chocolate cakes now? Gritton sauntered towards the Town end, leant on a lampost and had a very long, relaxed conversation with a screw-down hairdo. Gritton had licked 'em by smiling, he left Town to hang on the wall. Did you knock the nail in hard enough?

What, more throw ins? This is tiresome Mr Grumblesnake, be away with your foul fiendish ways and pass the bouquet-garni. Pish and tish, we are aristocrats and aesthetes. Whoops, a huge guffaw belched from the far side. A County cross, half-cleared, nobbled back into the centre and Williams crept out. Someone ducked, Williams didn't dive and the ball lopped over him and onto the bar. Who did what? I'm sorry I haven't a clue. Bodies and burger boards were in the way. It looked c-r-r-azy and z-z-any enough to be on one of those strange satellite channels that you only come across once, normally when you're at a mates house and he's pondering the crisp selection process. Life is not too short for plain crisps, it's simpler that way.

Grrrrrrrr. Crowe. Wasting the moment. Four Town attackers against three defenders and he chose to pass out to Macca when every other option was better. Cross charged down, danger disappeared in an instant.

Still. No worries, Town were still winning. Pinault: has he touched the ball yet? Why is he doing a passable impression of Des Hamilton? Passable? Did Desperate Des ever pass? Time ticking, feet up, waiting for the win. Pinault crocked in a sliding tackle on the edge of the Town area. Physio on, Pinault off for some glue and sticky-back plastic treatment: Monsuier Hulot limping. A couple of minutes later Fleming was scythed down and was similarly treated, though this time Dave Moore didn't use glitter paint when patching up the wound.

Anthony Williams
John McDermott
Justin Whittle
Terrell Forbes
Rob Jones
Simon Ramsden
Terry Fleming
Jason Crowegoal
Stacy Coldicott
Martin Gritton
Andy Parkinsongoal


Michael Reddy51 mins
Thomas Pinault49 mins
Tony Crane
Ronnie Bull
Nick Heggarty


Joe Ross


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Phoar, that Oakes can hit 'em. A screaming abdab from 30 yards, a couple of feet over the bar. Mmm, he's getting the ball a lot, running the game. Another long-range effort, zooming towards the No Smirking sign. Town sinking back closer and closer to Williams, the ball permanently down the other end. Humungous throw ins, dropping like doodlebugs upon the Town area. Pressure mounting, Town wobbling, Jones diverting all. Forbes the shepherd, gathering his flock, magnificent movement, his pockets stuffed full of Magpies.

Reddy...too slow, too injured, unable to reach the infrequent droplets from Pinault. Pinault: lamping long balls to nowhere. At least he's not passing straight to the men of Nottingham, which is an improvement from the Mansfield debacle. Parkinson...fell over his own shadow when wonderfully placed. Moments, just moments, all squandered. Deeney fell over the ball, Reddy slept.

With a quarter of an hour left Pinault challenged Oakes for a high ball about 30 yards out on their centre right. A free kick was given in typically arbitrary manner; most aren't given, so why now? Williams edged over to his right, OAKES spotted the quivering mass moving away, took it quickly and arced a perfect shot into the bottom left hand corner. Yes, magnificent shot. Yes, poor goalkeeping.

Pressure mounted with County hurtling forward; their fans awoke, the whiff of victory sniffed. Town non-existent beyond the half way line, missing everything in midfield; Crowe and Fleming way forward, Pinault too far back. The defence was a bullwark; shots blocked, crosses deflected, headers bonged way, Williams protected. The tourniquet tightened with Town stuck inside their own penalty area; crosses from the left, crosses from the right, Williams a bouncing baby boy in a blue jumpsuit, almost falling out of his cot. Just ten minutes left, holding on desperately. Head tennis, challenges, one-two-three, finally a free kick to them, just outside the penalty area, on the left. Oakes pushed away all pretenders to his throne and lampooned the ball goalwards. It hit someone in the wall, deflected onto the cross bar and out for a...goal kick, as Williams ran around in circles underneath. Panic in the streets of Humberside.

A Town chance, a Town move. Pinault to Crowe, a Macca lob infield and Crowe za-zoomed into the area, nodding the ball forward. A shimmy, the defender embarrassed by his own hips, and Crowe divveled to the bye-line. He looked up, saw Parkinson hurtling to the near post and whacked a cross against Parky's knee and out for a...corner.

With a couple of minutes left Jones legged up a Countyite in about the same position that Oakes had scored from. This time Town built a wall, Williams got out his stethoscope, abacus, compass, sextant, and electric trouser press, just to be sure. OAKES took a couple of steps and...curled the ball into the top left hand corner. Yes, magnificent shot. Yes, poor goalkeeping.

At last Town woke up, pressing County and forcing a corner; Jones headed over. Forcing a free kick; Whittle headed over. Three minutes of added time, enough for Pipe to swipe well wide from the edge of the area and Stallard to glance well wide when smothered by the looming Whittle. Another game over, another game gone away.

The apteryx slain.

Where to start? Should I bother? Does it matter? Town were comfortable when County were dormant, and should have been much further in front before Williams' final cut. Two identical free kicks, two goals. Make your own mind up after replaying the video three times. Gritton looked very good, Coldicott was a defensive block, Forbes and Jones defensive rocks. The so-called wing-backs were not really troubled. Everyone else were degrees of imperfect. But Town had this in their shopping bag, they were on their way out of the car park. Why did they have to go back into the store and admit they'd been overcharged?

Well, at least we scored. That's better than usual these days.

Nicko's Man of the Match

Once again Terrell Forbes glinted in the twilight of the clods. It's embarrassing that he plays for us, he's so much better than this collective bilge of a division. Not quite Martin Peters though: Terrell was just the two seconds ahead of his time, popping up like the shopkeeper to hustle the confused customers out of the door and back on the streets. Rob Jones played well, but you don't get to be MoM simply for heading the ball a lot. Pity Gritton old-manned off so soon.

Official Warning

Mr Joe E Ross again. He ain't number one super guy. Mr Guess the Weight of My Shoes was as random as ever. He wasn't biased, just bad: never giving advantage, which stopped both sides in their tracks. He did us a couple of weeks ago against Rushden and was just the same today, so he gets the same score - 4.342.

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