18/10 Colchester 2nd Half
By: Tony Butcher
Date: 19/10/2003
NEITHER team made any changes at half time. The game kicked off and we hardly noticed, so engrossed were the crowd in their various own things.
Home > 2003-2004 Season > Reports > Colchester (h) |
Grimsby Town 2 Colchester United 0
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A couple of minutes later Boulding twisted and turned down the right touchline, before cutting in and dribbling a mis-hit shot straight at Brown. Colchester..no.. they didn’t. Onuora amazed all by receiving a pass with his back to goal, controlling the ball, turning and delicately lifting a flick over and through the defence. Boulding raced clear and, just inside the penalty on the centre left, thwacked a half volley goalwards. Brown parried the ball away at head height.
Colchester brought on a lanky string of beans, Halford, who looked a decent footballer, one of those awkward ball-tied-to-a-piece-of-string merchants. He briefly threatened to poop the emerging party when Town fell asleep, as Colchester attacked down their left. Halford snuck up unmarked on the right and was for the merest of seconds bearing down on gaol inside the penalty area. Barnard lumbered across, Halford cut inside, the ball was crossed, the moment was gone. No, their moment was gone, for Cas thwacked the cross away downfield where Onuora controlled the ball inside the centre circle. He held off a couple of defenders and poked a pass upfield to Boulding, who did what he’s paid to do - run quickly. Two defenders pursued him, he cut back to his right foot and, from around the edge of the penalty area on the centre left, hit a firm drive goalwards. Brown sank to his knees waved his arms as if guiding a helicopter to land, and the ball seemed to go through his legs, possibly deflected. In other words, BOULDING had finally scored again, with about five minutes left.
Colchester decided to use up the remaining minutes by entertaining us, the paying public. They should have scored when a cross from their right floated gently on the breeze. Crane decided to play musical statues and McDermott ambled across to cover. Vine, about 6 yards out and in the centre, stooped and glanced an extremely tame header straight at Davison who, yet again, didn’t have to move a mighty muscle. McDermott sliced a clearance over the bar from the middle of the area, wandering back to the post with a knowing smile. Is that a hint of a moustache we see upon thy face? That’s an accusation not a question, by the way. But the biggest end of the pier laughter was reserved until last. Cas daftly barged over a striker in the middle, right on the edge of the penalty area. The referee took an age to get the wall back the requisite 12.1 yards, as Cas argued about the metric/imperial conversion rate. Two bright, bobbing, fizzy oranginas stood over the ball, whilst another prepared to run up and smack it. The runner was a dummy, for they had a plan, a plan so cunning you could build a three bedroom (one en-suite) detached bungalow on its foundations. Ah, they forgot to get planning permission. The dummy dummied, the stooge stooged, Izzet rolled the ball between his legs to his left for.... well, there was the flaw in the plan. For Daws. No Colchester player was within the territorial fishing zone of the ball. At least they left us with a smile on our face and a song in our heart as we serenaded their embarrassment. They were lost in their own maze. I am sure that when you buy the highlights video it will be speeded up, layered in monochrome and have some jaunty music played over the top. I suggest the theme to Pot Black.
If you ignore the first five minutes, then this was a bit of a stroll. The crowd picked up on it and decided to have a sing song and enjoy themselves, despite what was going on out on the pitch. This seemed to rouse the players a little and a little was all they needed to win. Only Chesterfield have been worse so far at Blundell Park. Town were nowhere near as good, with the game being a huffle and puffle affair in midfield. Hamilton had a very odd game, making two or three excellent defence splitting passes, but never seeming to have the ball under control. And I mean that in a very big way, for his touch was akin to a constipated polar bear, and don’t we know all about them. Cas got into the mood, being both dangerous and daft, possibly the only Town player who could have got into the Colchester team, for only some of his passes stayed inside Blundell Park. Boulding seemed to make the strangest blindside runs. From being unmarked, he dashed 20 yards to be marked. Stand still laddie! The most worrying aspect was the continuing Macca turmoil. He made two or three under hit or miss hit clearances which went to straight to the opposition. Are his powers finally starting to wane, the beginning of the start of the road to retirement? His positioning was spot on, his determination as driven as ever, but his legs, at the end of the game, seem to lose power. It isn’t terminal, but something to keep an eye on.
So, in its own way a mildly diverting afternoon, perversely enjoyable, and a very good atmosphere created by the crowd. Being at Blundell Park was fun despite the football. Now that’s over, next!
Nicko’s Man of the Match
Who could it be? Crowe had a super 50 minute cameo, but overall there are just two candidates. In the red corner Barnard, the Wokingham wanderer. A cut above with his internationalist leanings and proddings. In the redder corner we have Daws, the Rotherham rover. Have you noticed how he has migrated from Nicky to Nick, giving him the gravitas one would expect with age and wisdom? After at least a second’s thought the answer must be Nick Daws, for getting his mop and bucket out to clean away all those little messes the kids keep making.
Official Warning
P Joslin. Not very impressive, despite there being nothing to decide. A lot of small inconsistencies, and his linesman had to make some pretty obvious decisions for him. In other words, a hesitant unreliable witness. Strike his testimony from the record. A reluctant 5.2805 in this arbitrary scoring system, using an imaginary slide rule.
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