26/02 Yeovil Part 2

Grimsby Town 1 Chester City 0
22 Feb 2005, Coca Cola League 2

Do they only choose defenders with a double "aa" in their name? Or perhaps it signifies what kind of batteries they run on.

Town on the attack! Well, I say attack, more like Town players in their half of the pitch. There was a theoretical possibility of a shot, but insufficient data has been compiled for the Royal Society to come to a conclusion. It would be speculative to speculate about a spectacle. Gritton again flicking Parkinson tentatively free down the inside left channel. Amankwaaaah stepped out in polite society, chucking a cup of water over Parky. Amankwaaaaaaaah, what is he good for?

Ten minutes of noodling and doodling. The crowd slightly bored, but not unhappy. It was pleasantly uninteresting.

The pitter-patter of tiny feet was heard, the Celtic jumpsuits were gaily galloping forward. Like any modern parent, old mother Town gave the children enough space for play, but within specified boundaries so no harm could be done. There, there, do what you like 30 yards from goal, but don’t go near any sharp edges. Urgh, tears and tantrums from Town, as DAVIES clapped a very ordinary shot towards the bottom left hand corner. Williams kept his feet firmly rooted to the ground (he’s not going to let playing for glamorous Grimsby go to his head) and swayed to his left. The ball skipped off the turf and through his hands. Yet another goal conceded through a low shot to his left. The crowd exploded, the Town players looked at him with disgust, only Bull showed any support. Well, he would, he’s in the same boat. The one we all want to push out of into the Humber without a paddle. What was Williams doing? Perhaps he’d been struck down with ennui . A daydreaming boy, tomorrow he'll pay the dues for dropping the load. A pie in the face for being a sleep'n bulldog.

Williams, a man alone, he didn’t turn to face his demons in the Pontoon. Some of us may look like extras in the Dukes of Hazzard, but he’s played for Hartlepool, he’s seen worse.

The rest of the half, yes all 35 minutes, was a series of flufferies and bufferies, with nothing of any interest, but you’re going to read about them anyway. There’s someone in deepest Peru who demands to know everything, a man who hankers for knowledge of misplaced crosses, and unusual flight-paths adopted by the roosting pigeons in the Main Stand. No plastic bags billowed across the pitch today, no sausage rolls were thrown at the corner flags. Just a hum-drum hubbub of average nonsense.

Gritton crossed, no-one there. A blast from the recent past, Jevons finally touched the ball, skipping, slipping, flipping a rubbish shot way over the bar. Ah, the golden days of the golden boy, three years of shrugging and shaking, replayed again. He hasn’t come back to taunt or haunt us after all. Same old, same old, from pheromone Phil. Some nice moments, way outside the box though.

Twenty five minutes and finally a Town effort on goal. A corner, a free header, flicked wide. Crowe the culprit, perhaps ten yards out, nearish the near post. Should have scored, didn’t, no-one surprised. Hardly an "Ooooh" in the ground. As the game bored on the Town fans began to get a bit annoyed. "Is this it?" Yeovil were barely better than Chester. Their defence looked dreadful, four sticks of celery and a banana, which I’m sure will turn up as Dish of the Day sometime.

"They never did find the radioactive tiddlywink of Wintringham."
"Bring Pinault on for Williams. We don’t need a keeper."
"I only came today because it was too cold to go out."
"Our immutable law of the ex says they play even worse against us than for us."
"So Halifax is the new York."