19/03 Darlington 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 20/03/2005

NO changes were made by either team at half time as the extended version of "Up the Mariners" penny-whistled its way on and on and on. Is that twiddly whistle the sound of football?

Grimsby Town 0 Darlington 1 19 Mar 2005, Coca Cola League 2 The game just carried on as normal. Town, Town, Town, Town, Town, Town, Town, Town , Town, Town. Ooh, just for a change, Town. Within thirty seconds Harrold had bulldozed his way through a challenge, slinked off to the right and crackled a low shot goalwards. Gritton ran behind the defence and diverted the ball yards wide with his shins. Russell would have saved it anyway, but it was an attack, a shot, something to get us going. A few seconds later Town had turned them back again, forcing a throw in near the Police box. Hockless hurled, Gritton was nudged by Clarke, and so the Gritster nudged him back. The ball floated in, Harrold on the six yard line flicked out, and a defender diverted the ball into the net. Calm down, the referee gave them a free kick for the merest of hints of a suggestion of a foul. You get pushed harder in the pie queue and do refs ever give free kicks for that? Exactly. Oh no, sounds like griping about the referee, that will not do. After about five minutes Darlington sneaked on a substitute whilst no one was looking, not that it made any discernible difference, for Town just kept on rolling. Hang on, they did have an attack. Was it now? Ooooh, I dunno, sometime. Lets say after 50 minutes Darlington broke, shot and that’s it, the ball zooming through the area from Town left to right, just missing Macca’s shins at the far post. Back to normal: the Harrying of the North continued. Forbes dimpled a longish pass straight down the centre for the unmarked loanster. Young Man Harrold took the ball in his stride, set off straight for goal, persuading his marker to allow safe passage, got inside the area, pulled back his leg and ...thwoosh, over came a big boot to block his shot for a corner on the Town left. Sigh again Dick Whittington, for Harrold lollopped around his marker, thrust himself high in to the limelight at the near post and lampooned a firm header a foot or two wide. Harrold, the boy who’s the thorn in their side, a plundering desire for goals, rolling down the left, chasing a tipple over the top, levering the lumbering last defender away. Wrestled, wrenched, hauled down over a 10 yards stretch of turf. Advantage played outside the area, Harrold felled way inside when free. The whistle blew, the ref pointed: a penalty? No, it’s a free kick 5 yards outside. Hockless wellied in true Gallimore style, smashing the shins of the man third form left. The ball flew out towards the half way line with Forbes turbo-charging across to nick the ball away from Webster, who swiped the Gloved One very late. A booking for the Darlyman, the crowd at tipping point, a constant barrage of verbal bile thrown at the referee. And still the ball sailed into the Darlington penalty area; another corner, on the Town left. Hockless curled it into the near post, to almost exactly the same spot that Harrold had headed wide from. Gritton, unmarked floated up to the sky, memories came rushing up to meet him. Memories of glory, of thumping headers, of adulation from the huddled masses eagerly awaiting, already on their feet. Gritton shook his head, then held it, as he missed the ball completely. Our thoughts too Marty, our thoughts too. Could the crowd seethe any more, could the decibel level shiver the timbers in the Main Stand? "Get the book out". For a fourth time the ref stopped a Town counter attack, setting up Darlington. Is he actively playing for them? Darlington had used up all their substitutes with half an hour left; they had to find another way to waste time. There was a lot of activity down in the away end, with an attempted pitch invasion and a lot of running around. It was all so 1982.

Grimsby Anthony Williams John McDermott Justin Whittle Terrell Forbes Ronnie Bull Michael Reddy Terry Fleming Thomas Pinault Andy Parkinson Martin Gritton Matt Harrold   Subs Graham Hockless 30 mins Rob Jones David Soames Tony Crane Glen Downey   Attendance 4,578   Referee Phil Taylor (Hertfordshire)   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 Bull Fleming Forbes Gritton Harrold Hockless McDermott Parkinson Pinault Reddy Whittle Williams Nominations count towards the Player Of The Month shortlist.

Reddy, past three, in to the area and a shot blocked by a late sliding tackle, Darlo broke away from the corner, Armstrong behind Forbes, Williams off his line. Armstrong about to shoot...a magnificent sliding, swooping, hooking tackle from Forbes, sweeping man and ball away, retaining possession and coolly setting Town up for a counter attack.

And still Town squashed down upon the Darlo grapes, squeezing until the pips popped. Roaring, raging, the Pontoon almost dead on its feet demanding justice. With twenty minute left we have the final evidence for the prosecution of the referee. Gritton released Pinault, who surged and stroked a pass behind the defence for Reddy to run on to down the centre left. Reddy outmachoed the final defender, shrugging this torpid harpsichordist aside, glided into the area and tempted Russell with some fruity lollipops and animal-shaped balloons. Russell raced off his line and threw himself towards Reddy, who poked the ball on and collided with the blue forearms placed before him. The goal empty, Reddy rolling, the referee pointed to the penalty spot and walked towards the keeper. Out came his book, he placed the red card on top, clearly visible to the Pontoon. A little chat with Russell then...the referee stared at the linesman who resolutely did not move a muscle, standing rigid as a juggernaut. Yellow card only. Some Town fans combusted, the Town players looked disgusted, Russell surprised. Gritton stepped up, stuttered forward and placed the ball at mid-height to the right as the keeper dived to his left. Crowd happy, Town players happy, everyone happy. Except the referee, who took a second then shook his head.

The crowd in tumult, Gritton jumping around pointing to his shirt: the residents and representatives of Grimsby were not pleased. Gritton took it again, rolling it low to the ‘keeper’s left. Russell flew across and patted the ball aside from the very foot of the post. Several Town players surrounded the referee, with Saint John of McDermott giving him a full minute of invective. The crowd in uproar, some so maddened they lost their grip of grammar; new words were coined to describe the referee’s qualities.

Fleming had clearly lost control of his mental faculties, racing around feet and arms out, ready for a fight. A minute after the penalties Fleming scythed down a little Darling right next to the away dug-out. Their manager went potty, and Fleming had a bout of verbal fisticuffs with him. The ref booked the Flemster, who continued the previous discussions. Out came the red card, off went Fleming, who almost demolished the tunnel as he ran off to the changing rooms. Slade looked ready to assassinate the referee using just the power of his stare.

Blundell Park was not a quiet place.

The last quarter of an hour was just the same as the previous seventy five, except Town had one less man. The crowd was driven to near silence, barely having enough energy left to rain down any more venom upon the green-shirted strutting peacock. Whenever he came near we roused ourselves, the fury increased as we saw him stand on the edge of the Darlington area and smile a couple of times, even laughing. Not wise. We would have happily had Mr Frisky as the referee.

It was still all Town, Darlington content to run the ball into the corners, wasting time. They didn’t use the extra man to pick Town apart. They had no shots, just the points. Had George Reynolds returned? Town became more direct, unsurprising given the numerical disadvantage, but try the players did, running themselves to a standstill. Pinault shooting high, Pinault volleying against the Pontoon roof, Whittle an additional centre forward for the last 10 minutes. Town played a 3-4-2 formation that ended up as 2-2-5, the defence being Forbes and anyone else who happened to be taking a breather. It was bit like five-a-side. Oops, shouldn’t give the ref ideas.

Town just wouldn’t give up, corner after corner, attack after attack. From the right curled to the far post, headed down by Reddy, off a yellow thigh, against the post and hooked a few inches wide by Gritton. Reddy drifting past two, into the area, a yellow sock dangling, Reddy stretching. To fall or pass? To pass: we wouldn’t get another penalty. Shot blocked away. Hockless dribbling, crossing, headed clear.

There were five minutes of added time, with every Town attack foundering upon Whittle’s head, providing a last line of defence for our fortunate friends from the north, cushion heading back to Russell four times.

The End.

The Town players received a standing ovation for their heart and their desire, and that they had played football as we know it, Jim. The referee decided that the safest place to be would be 25 yards from the Pontoon, near the Police Box. That did do anything to ease matters. It’s just like old times, like the start of the season: fine performance, bizarre result, with an outrageous referee thrown in to boot. To boot: possibly the nicest thing anyone from Grimsby would do with him.

For all the Town domination we didn’t really look like scoring in open play; the game had this strange aura, and I don’t just mean the swirly fog. Darlington were better than they were in August, much more of a team with a purpose, more pace and better in defence. But they were still pulverised by Town. They owe us 6 points some season.

Nicko’s Man of the Match

No-one played badly (it is impossible to judge Williams he had so little do), but one man stood out. Oddly, given the paucity of Darlington attacks, it is Mr Terrell Forbes, for a perfect display. Even his passing was good today. He was faultless and, when required, magnificent in the tackle.

Official Warning

Mr P Taylor from planet anti-Grimsby. I am wondering when the trial has been set for his crimes against Townanity. He started out being very poor and then failed to reach those Olympian heights of competence. It went beyond general inadequacy, where decisions are randomly bad and favour neither side to a significant degree. He actively made decisions against Town, treating identical challenges differently, dependant upon the colour of the shirt. Yet another referee who sees no ships when it comes to handball. He seemed to revel in his public flogging, enjoying the invective and disgust heaped upon him. I am sure you get the drift by now. His score? Scientists have confirmed that the latest supercomputer has been able to pinpoint his exact score, working on the same principle as the Search for Extra Terrestial Life. REFI, using the combined power of 253 home computers in Immingham, found this - 1,273.9867, to be his score

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