Friendly Fire: Bournemouth Report

Grimsby Town 1 Bournemouth 1
13 Mar 2004, Nationwide League Division 2

They are the reserves, aren’t they? The latest new Town, flung together with MDF and staples, barely believable, who are those guys?

Town warmed up with a stumpy geezer with grey hair issuing instructions whilst Rodger glared from the touchline. The warm up was just a variation on the usual one touch passing circles where Hamilton kicks the ball out. Perhaps it was a "getting to know you, getting to know one another" session. No time for a foreign trip to Mablethorpe for some rudimentary male bonding, so the strip of mud under the Police Box will do.

No Nicky Daws, no Lee Thorpe, Town finally homophone free, which delighted those old fashioned types who, like grandmas, think they do that sort of thing in "that" London.

Town lined up in a bizarre 4-4-2 formation, as shown. Your starter for ten (no conferring) - who played where? No takers? I’ll tell you then. Edwards at right back, Armstrong at left back, Young and Warhurst at centre half, Barnard left midfield, Campbell centre midfield and, of course, the grand return of Rowan and Jevons’ laugh-in up front. That’s four centre backs across the defence, and two of them are actually employed by the club, it’s amazin’ what raisins can do. The crowd were just plain confused when the team was flashed up on the scoreboard. We hoped the employed professionals temporarily representing us weren’t equally confused.

Numbers? You want to play Bingo? Warhurst, sporting a pair of large ears, wore an extra-extra large shirt with the number 9 on it. That shirt was at least two sizes too big. Tiny Thorrington had a 2 and a 7 plastered on his back, whilst lanky Fettis was, and is, thirtysomething.

Bournemouth played in an all blue strip, probably wanted to work with children and their greatest wish is world peace.

1st half

Bournemouth kicked off towards the Pontoon. Everyone lined up under the Stones/Findus/Smiths stand, so Feeney dribbled off the other way, running into Barnard and into touch. There’s more than one way of skinning a cat called Barnard, eh? And of kicking the ball out of touch. At least they showed some invention, performing the obligatory kick off routine, and in less than four seconds. Jolly well done.

At first it was not clear who was playing where, for Warhust appeared to be the "spare man" at the back, pushing up to midfield. So is it 3-1-4-2? Is it 3-5-2? Or is it that they were running around like headless chickens? If in doubt, plump for the free range headless chicken. A long ball from their right back was flicked on by Feeney to Fletcher (S) who sliced his shot into the Pontoon from about 10 yards out and to the left of Fettis’ goal. Town fans unmoved, a bit like the defence. No, that’s a cheap shot at a cheap team; the defenders all looked like they could defend, and mostly stood in the right places. Warhurst, especially, was shepherding the flock. Bournemouth had a couple more moments of danger in the first five or so minutes. The usual infiltrating and "almosts", with Young and Warhurst clearing at the last.