18/09 Leyton Orient Part 2

Grimsby Town 2 Leyton Orient 0
18 Sep 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Or perhaps nodding off at will, bored by this basic, dire, dismal tactic. We began to feel sorry for the Orient supporters if they had to watch this every week. Guileless, as stylish as Brentford Nylons, what joy would one get from paying to watch it? It’s cheaper to watch it on CEEFAX, and just as entertaining. Shall we be magnanimous and think that this was a special tactic just for us; it can’t be the "real" Leyton O’s, can it?

Hang in, don’t get too cocky about these Cockneys. After a bout of head tennis and general boxing inside the Town area Whittle managed to clear the ball against Macca’s bottom for a corner. Orient curled the ball slowly towards a bunch of big blokes, one of them headed it and the ball bumbled slowly a few feet wide of Williams’ right hand post. No threat whatsoever. A loud "Pfft" sound was emitted by the Pontoon.

So far, so easy in defence, with Gordon and Forbes looking exceedingly excellent. Gordon was like a police road block, politely pointing their strikers the way out of town, his telescoping legs poking the ball and wheedling away danger, whilst Forbes was like an aggressive (and awake) Simon Ford. You know, Simon Ford before he had that space cadet glow. And Whittle was heading the ball to his heart’s content. Town attacking? Erm, well, mmm, some nice passing in midfield, with Pinault pulling the strings, but Parkinson kept drifting offside. Sestanovich was on the pitch, occupying several feet of grassland, munching his way through several bales of hay. After about a quarter of an hour Town got a free kick on the centre left of the Orient penalty area after three, count them, three quick passes the ball flipped up to Parkinson. Sestanovich and Gordon stood over the ball. Stan the Rented Van or Golden Gordon? Unfortunately, the transit van with the dodgy suspension took it, lifting the ball against the head of the last man in the wall. Out for a throw in; sit down again and watch the ships go into Immingham.

Is this the spark plug? Parkinson tapped the ball down the left behind the defence. Reddy raced after it, Harrison wandered out of goal. Harrison lunged, White stretched, Reddy flicked the ball past. Reddy caught the ball up near the edge of the penalty area and, at a very tight angle, knocked the ball goalwards. The ball rolled along and a defender calmly collected up his belongings, picked up some crisp packets that were fluttering across the goalmouth, and strolled off towards the car park. No Town player was within 10 yards of the penalty area, let alone inside it.

Around the 20th minute two things happened. Orient had a shot, which was nice for their supporters, and nice for Williams too. And Pinault was crocked by Alexander (who was booked). He slid in manfully to win the ball and received a stud in the knee and a boot in his ménage a trios. After some cold water was applied to the Dordogne he went off to the dressing room for three minutes. Unusually, Town didn’t concede when temporarily down to 10 men. Orient really hadn’t done their homework, had they? They couldn’t score a quick one while he’s away. Or perhaps Town’s temporary two centre backs were very good?

The game became even more fractured and fractious as it meandered towards half time. The Orient number 11, Scott, was an annoying little pimple on the backside of football. He dived poorly, then moaned when the referee didn’t give him free kicks. He was utterly imbecilic when Town were awarded a throw in next to the Police Box.

"We’ve got a good defence now they’re all injured."
"I find it difficult to get into Stacy’s head."
"I can believe one of these teams is fourth from bottom."
"Stand further back, I can’t get your feet in."
"Pretend this sandwich is the ball."