06/11 Scunthorpe 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 07/11/2004

NEITHER team made any change at half time. We were still crap, they were still pap. From the off Town got out their fiddles and played a doleful tune.

Scunthorpe United 2 Grimsby Town 0 06 Nov 2004, Coca Cola League 2 Back to Gordon, up to Coldicott in the centre 30 yards out, who dawdled so long an Ironite burst forward, took possession and Town had a minor panic attack. Nothing happened, a cross, a clearance, that’s all. Scunthorpe aren’t great; they are confident. Silence. Boredom. Minutes passed away, the game dying on its knees. What contest? What’s the point of continuing, Town are simply filling space, Scunny keeping possession, alert enough to realise that the Town back three were going to lamp it forward sooner, rather than later. Here we go, Beagrie moved his feet and passed, some bloke in claret drove forward and rolled the ball diagonally across the face of the Town area. A dummy by Hayes, a roll by Torpey and a swishing swipe that rolled a couple of yards wide, slowly. Abysmal defending by Jones, who allowed that giant rusty hulk to spin past him and have oodles of space. They had another shot as well some time, not interesting, not close; simply not. And here we have the two moments that Town attacked. Sestanovich did some card tricks on the left, pulling the three of clubs from his right sock. The full back turned to his mates asking "How did he do that?" and before he knew it the ball was shipped across. McDermott sneaked in at the far post and headed straight at Musslewhite. I’ve no idea how close Macca was and it doesn’t matter, does it. Life is too short for plain crisps, apparently. A couple of minutes later McDermott surged down the right, cut infield and slapped a shot just over the bar from about 20 yards or so. It’s supposed to be a fierce local rivalry, deep loathing spreading across the plains of North Lincolnshire. Nothing. Town fans sat back in that glazed ‘seen it all go wrong before’ way. Why make noise, way waste effort? We couldn’t even get up a head of steam when the ref came near. You know it’s half way through the second half now. It was so turgid I’d rather have listened to a Brian Laws interview. No, that’s ridiculous, no-one would want that. Town made a couple of changes: Cramb and Pinault came on for Coldicott and, incredibly, Macca. I’ll give you a metaphorical fiver if you find someone who didn’t mutter "No, Jones!" at this point. Or something so similar as to suggest the same meaning. Laws brought on Taylor, wasting a minute or so with a very prolonged, delayed substitution. Town went to a back four with Whittle and Jones in the centre, Gordon at left back, Crowe at right back. Cramb went up front on his own with Sestanovich and Parkinson supporting from the flanks. Or at least this was a theory propounded by some optimists. I can confirm that they were on the pitch in various position and it is entirely feasible that there was some kind of 3-3-3 formation. Or maybe I’m being kind, for immediately the soufflé collapsed yet again. Scunny walloped the ball high upfield, straight down the middle. Gordon and Whittle raced back, forming a human wall to shield the ball from the lone pursuer, Hayes. No danger....oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. The crying starts now, for Williams decided to hurtle out of his area and head the ball clear. They all met 20 or so yards out, collided, fell over and the only man standing was...HAYES, who walked the ball in, then shang-shang-a-langed over to the Town fans and, with Taylor, politely expressed regret at the turn of events. Those are the facts, feel free to yell anything you want now, you’re bound to cover just about every epithet flung towards this season’s Welsh wobbler. The locals were laughing, and had every reason to. Counted the number of chances they’d had so far?

Grimsby Anthony Williams Justin Whittle Dean Gordon Rob Jones John McDermott Ashley Sestanovich Jason Crowe Andy Parkinson Stacy Coldicott Terry Fleming Jon Daly   Subs Michael Reddy 79 mins Thomas Pinault 67 mins Colin Cramb 67 mins Clint Marcelle Greg Young   Attendance 8,054   Referee Nigel Miller (Co Durham)   Division Two League Table Reports/Fixtures Squad Stats Top Scorers Previews Predict-o-Meter   Man of the Match Vote for your Man of the Match Your Name (optional) Your Email Address (optional) Your Man of the Match Pick a player Williams Whittle Gordon Jones McDermott Cramb Fleming Coldicott Pinault Crowe Parkinson Daly Sestanovich Reddy Nominations count towards the Player Of The Month shortlist.

Of course the game was even more over than it had been. Just let ‘em sing, they’ve waited long enough to be happy. We’ve only got another 20 minutes of this shabby shocker to endure. The majority of the Town fans continued their vow of silence, punctuated by the occasional groan at Jones and grumble as Parkinson tumbled. And we’ve got an hour in the car park to look forward to.

The rest of the game was a waste of time, almost waiting for them to score again, for they did start to attack a bit, exploiting the extra space and the lack of fight in the Town team. Pinault started brightly, prompting and probing, but with no-one to pass to, no-one moving. Scunthorpe continued their game plan and with Taylor on adding pace, well air mobile, those boys just couldn’t stay put. Taylor had the beating of Gordon and crossed low, Williams palmed away to Whittle. Torpey wibbled a shot wide form outside the area, then had another one deflected wide for a corner. Then another substitute, Rankine, was sent free behind the flailing, ailing Jones, down the centre right. Inside the area he tried to side-foot the ball to Williams’ right, but finally he stopped something, his boot deflecting the ball wide. Anything else? Yeah, Beagrie dribbled around his own grave three times before passing the ball to Williams’s right.

Near the end Cramb was booked for wellying the ball away in frustration. And Beagrie wasn’t for kicking the ball away to waste time.

Ooooooooooh, I forgot, Sestanovich was taken off with 10 minutes left, Reddy racing on and leaping around like a hyper-active violinist. Reddy almost reached one ball and fell over, claiming some kind of foulage. He crossed once, it being deflected up into Musselwhite’s hands as Fleming was within a dozen yards. Town really turned on the pressure in search of collective redemption, eh. Within 12 yards of the ball!

Ding-dang-doo it’s over. Should we shout, should we scream, what happened to our post-Laws dream? Oh Fenty, Fenty what have you done?

As the players walked off police horses trotted on. One of them did on the pitch what the team should have done to the unremarkable opposition. Town capitulated to a team who played like Bury mark II. Everything went wrong from the start. The wrong team, playing the wrong way with the wrong attitude. Faith in Slade is draining away as quickly as he abandoned his faith in passing. He hasn’t constructed a team capable of hoofing its way to 22nd, so they shouldn’t play like it. In truth the referee provides convenient cover for the management and the more myopic Mariners. Even with an adequate referee Town were, at best, hanging around for a draw against limited opponents.

In August there was only one ingredient missing from this spicy cocktail, so why has he drowned it in salt and starch? Put back the sweet, sweet flavouring or else it’ll be dates and fig wine for Christmas and a crucifixion at Easter.

Nicko’s Man of the Match

Sir John McDermott gave his usual performance. Did he make an error? Of course not. Town‘s best attacker, Town’s best defender; Town’s best... Macca. It was either him or the five year old mascot.

Markie’s un man of the match

Parkinson is permanently on the fringes of unMOMdom, and Coldicott was really terrible today. Could it be Jones, inaccurately described as a professional footballer by some? Maybe Williams, the man who stoppeth one in three? No, I’m gong for poor old Stacy. Sad, but true. He has to be dropped on his current form. Perhaps the club could auction the height of the platform from which he is pushed to raise some much needed cash to pay the disciplinary fine for everyone being booked.

Official Warning

Mr N Wilson (sponsor’s man of the match)

If you close your eyes and immerse yourself in a flotation tank for 12 hours it is possible to avoid taking out a contract on his head. He wasn’t favouring Scunthorpe so much as disfavouring Grimsby. He took agin Town and every decision seemed to add to the sense of grievance, a snowball effect where he ended up looking to penalise. An ego thing. You can tell how poor he was - he booked McDermott. A drop ball after Daly was sent off? Rolling balls? What an apt description. 0.0000000001, for he did the get the Coldicott dive correct. Not every decision was dreadful, one has to be fair and impartial. Maybe he should remember that next time he struts on some grass

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