Ha-ha-ha-ha Staying Alive: Brentford Report

Grimsby Town 1 Brentford 0
01 May 2004, Nationwide League Division 2

The Town stands were almost full too, with the heritage temporary seating twixt Pontoon and Main Stand full of sunbathing Grimbarians.

As Town warmed up, the usual game of guess the players was interrupted by the sudden realisation that a Law clone was on the pitch, exchanging passes with Mansaram. Has Dazzling Daz got a personal trainer, the in-thing for your self respecting man about Town? Or has Law brought in yet another helper to clog up the arteries? Ooh look, there’s Macca! Is he playing then?

No: for Town lined up in a 4-4-2 formation, as shown Campbell moved to right wing, with Lawrence in the centre, otherwise it was the same starting XI as last week. Cross those fingers and trust that they wouldn’t start like last week then.

Brentford did their own thing down at the other end, looking vigorous, purposeful and big. Except the tiny ones, for Hunt and Tabb are mascot-sized and I’m sure I saw the Mighty Mariner mistakenly ruffle their hair and make exaggerated hand gestures at them. Or was that during the match? Brentford’s back four included Scott Fitzgerald and Peter Frampton: here’s hoping for some flappers and philosophers with added air guitar at corners.

Prior to the teams coming out Dave Boylen walked around the pitch with an old, old Town player (Brian Hill) doing his Ted Bovis routine "Dave can’t hear you - Hi di Hi." Oh dear, this is now a tradition, as much as "Furneaux out" chants and those very odd people who insist on driving their kids to McDonalds at 4:56 when Town are playing at home.

Brentford ran out wearing their normal kit: red and white stripes with white shorts. Before the kick off both teams got in great big huggles with shows of conspiratorial male bonding.

1st half

The game was big, and it was ugly.

Brentford kicked off towards the Pontoon, wellying down the right and the tone was set. Up in the air, fight for your right to party. It’s a man’s world, flex those muscles. After about thirty seconds the crowd, the Town team, even the St Johns Ambulancemen, were incensed by the referee. Campbell slid alongside Hunt and cleanly tapped the ball away to Coldicott but a free kick was given to Brentford, 35 yards out on their left. The big blokes waddled up and the ball was duly plonked in the general area of said big blokes. A bit of mudwrestling, some tug’o’war and the ball was headed goalwards from about a dozen yards out. Fettis easily caught the ball but stumbled and his feet were a foot or so behind the line as he hovered close to disaster. Luckily the linesman had already run off down the touchline.

A minute or so later Town walloped the ball over the top, down the inside right. Mansaram hared after it, the goalkeeper ran out of his area. The ball reared up as The Flasher challenged and the Smiths/Stones/Findus standers rose from their comfortable bucket seats claiming handball. Nothing given. Next it was Coldicott’s turn to win a tackle with a trademark clamping swipe. That’s a clean clamping swipe, except in the referee’s mind, where it suddenly became a cynical hack.