Pump Up The Volume: Peterborough Report

Peterborough 0 Grimsby Town 1
10 Sep 2005, Coca Cola League 2

Town danced around in the warm up, the subs, as usual, cast off into the shadows to do some male bonding, which translates as belting the ball as hard as they can at Lukic the Destroyer. Ah, little John, taking pot shots against Mildenhall and smashing the advertising hoardings above the goal, panel by panel: shards of broken plastic flickering in the wind, dangling with intent.

What a boring programme, the sort that really does believes it's an official match day magazine. All gloss and dross: the only stab at humour is the number of pictures of their full back, Dean Holden who has a sideline in being Matthew Hoggard's celebrity double. A niche market , I'm sure, opening bingo halls as the Giant Haystacks of cricket. Oh yes, we remember now, they only buy strikers who don't want to live in Grimsby. A curious selection method.

Shane Huke, that is a great name: he sounds like an Aussie euphemism.

Before the game there was a presentation to the Exalted One to mark his 600th league game. Such a fine memento of the day, two shirts with GOD written on the back. Oh, no, sorry, poor eyesight: the number 600.

Kalalalalalalalalalala's shorts reached his ankles. And his ankles reached his feet.

Town lined up in the I-can't-believe-it's-not-better 4:4:1:1 formation, as shown. Parkinson again on the left, Cohen on the right, Jones the Lump betwixt and between somewhere unseen. Town wore the yellow kit, forsaking that unlucky black and white one which clashes with Peterborough blue, obviously.

1st half

Peterborough kicked off towards the Town support, taking 2.67 seconds to hoik the ball upfield. A throw in. It's somehow comforting for every team to do the same thing, week in, week out: the fourth division, a field of footballing sheep.

Oi, what's going on 'ere then? Passing and movement? Poshites spritely, whizzing and whirring around the lumbering Town defence; Quinn and Logan buzzing like an badly wired lamp. The ball was played from right to left and crossed into the area; a challenge, a bundle, a rebound and Farrell unmarked six yards out on their left. You can relax on both sides of the shed for he leant back and scooped the ball way over the bar. Great miss.

Still they waltzed around in front of Town, with pace, with purpose, within you and without you. And we're only talking about the space between the defence and midfield. Oo, that's better: a Town player has actually, factually, touched the ball. Kalalala robbing, McDermott roving, Reddy riverdancing down the right. A corner, a bumble, stumble and a Kalala shot humbling through a thicket of legs and diverted away A moment when something almost happened, but didn't, such is life down in the dreg end of football. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, there's defending to be done. Peterborough broke, Farrell bursting through the centre from his own half and Croft gently legged him up near the centre circle, and was booked. By the way, the clock that didn't exist showed 6 minutes had walked on by.

The game flowed freely, mainly towards Mildenhall, with the Town flanks a no-go zone and Jones the Lump lumbering in the dark forest. We heard noises but we never saw the mythical beast.