Cambridge United 0 Grimsby Town 2 25 Sep 2004, Coca Cola League 2
An odd, dull day in the annoying flatlands, with the drizzle and mizzle turning to still grey anonymity as kick-off approached. Around 350-400 Town supporters wallowed in pre-history, queuing up at one turnstile, standing at the side, their splutterings and gurglings piercing the silence. The old six-step cage behind the goal has been replaced by a simple stand, though only the richest 26 Grimbarians bothered to fork out the extra £3 to sit in the luxurious surroundings, with vistas of dreaming spires.
Town warmed up...apparently. The word on the terrace was that Town played an intricate game of one-touch passing, where the players’ knowledge of advanced trigonometry was tested. They had to pass it to someone two to the left. I didn’t get in to the ground until 2:55, so the exciting pre-match build up is just the stuff of legend to be whispered across the camp fire and passed down the generations. There was much mirth at the moose mascot; that’s the animal not the styling accessory or light dessert.
Town lined up in the 3-4-3 formation, wearing white shorts and black socks, as shown. If you need me to expand upon this, then you ain’t being paying attention this year. A Pinaultless midfield disappointed the gathering throng; we didn’t expect too much fancy football with Coldicott and Fleming roaming the plains, shooting stray buffalo. Town wore shirts too, they didn’t play in skins: the normal monochrome, of course. Crowe seemed to be wearing stockings rather than socks, they were see-through, peek-a-boo stockings. Ooo, saucy, but not as saucy as young Young who, it is alleged by two eye witnesses with a cotton fetish, wore little white ankle socks.
Cambridge have a back room staff including Ant Coole and Ali Uzunhasanoglu-by-the-sea. Make Dave Moore sound dull, don’t they. Unfortunately Franco Nacca, by name and by nature, was unfit to play. Perhaps he was relaxing in the sponsor’s bar drinking an Igor Latte-Yedo, which costs £2.49 at Coffee Republic.
Oh yes, the football.
1st half
Cambridge were clad in a simple sportswear combination of shimmering gold shirts set off by jet black mid-length shorts, ideal for autumn chill and winter sun... where was I? Oh yes, the football. They kicked off towards the new stand (ie to the right as seen on the three seconds of TV highlights you get by accident when they’ve finished interviewing Peter Taylor). After 3.78 seconds the ball went out of play for a throw in to Town on the right. McDermott took the throw and three minutes later Cambridge had a corner. Sorry, I just had to fast forward. They nearly scored from it too. Swung in high and handsome from their left, the ball dropped to the unmarked centre back, Tann, about seven yards out at the far post. Everyone watched calmly, without any concern, as Tann stretched and poked the ball a foot or so wide of the left hand post. Now wasn’t the time to panic. If you can’t be bothered to read any more I’ll save you some time: there never was a time to panic. Believe me when I tell you, they’ll never do Town no harm.
A couple of minutes later Crowe did two rubbish things: Easter crossed from their right, one of their strikers thighed the ball in the general direction of the goal and my sub-conscious has deleted what happened next as too trivial to remember.
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Referee |
Russell Booth
(Nottingham)
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