09/04 Wycombe Part 2

Grimsby Town 0 Wycombe Wanderers 0
09 Apr 2005, Coca Cola League 2

Ah, something to get hung up about. A strawberry cheesecake clattered Gritton and was booked. Foul, howl, growl, the crowd awoke. After 18 minutes another thing happened, and it was another chance to grimble-grumble. Wycombe tickled the ball through the Town defence on their left. Tyson, perhaps 12 miles offside, flickered a way in to the area. Williams advanced, jumped up, crouched and flung himself to his left. Tyson, from a narrowish angle about a dozen yards out, smacked the ball a foot or so wide of the far post. Slade sneaked up behind the linesman and muttered from behind a closed fist. Wild? He was livid.

A couple of minutes later Wycombe had a corner, it was cleared but squinted back for a goal kick with a dreadful mis-hit shot from one of their tall centre backs. Bill? Ben? Does it matter which of these flowerpot men it was? Ah, now here's another clue for you all: the walrus was Paul. Oh sorry, that's some other reference from some other game. Ah, here we are, it was tucked down the back of the mental sofa. Does that make Parky little weed?

Here we go Looby-Loo. A tipple over the top, Town fans panic. Williams hurtled out of his area as Forbes held off Tyson. Williams continued to hurtle as Forbes indicated via semaphore that he should remain on land. Forbes hoiked the ball out for a throw in as Williams swung his boots, his pants and his barn doors open. Another minute, another dink and drop. The ball was sent to exactly the same position, with Tyson aboard the Gatwick Express. Williams was stuck in a queue, not quite working out how to use those new ticket machines. Out the Welsh wanderer came, Tyson nicked the ball away and left Williams digging for worms near Wonderland. Jones pursued and blocked the resulting shot. Williams did not act upon the advice proffered by the Pontoon.

Some more Wycombe pressure. Ping-pong, won't be long before they score will it? They look slightly more interested that Town, but only slightly. Crowe was booked as Uhlenbeek was spectacularly felled by the breeze; a Gus of wind perhaps? A large boat drifted by. A pigeon struggled against the wind towards the Upper Smiths/Stones/Findus, narrowly avoiding a Whittle clearance. Talia drop-kicked directly to Ramsden, the only human on the left hand side of the pitch. Minor moments of mundanity in a miserable game. Did I see a Town pass? That sound you hear is laughter. We're laughing at Town, not with them.

Half an hour gone, not a Town shot to be sung. A Wycombe corner, from the right. Clipped by Lee to the far post, about 15 yards out willowy Williamson thumped a header goalwards. Williams fell left and Claridge, six yards out in the centre, stuck out a leg and passed straight to Tyson, who swiped the ball into the back of the Pontoon from about eight yards out. Take a few second to ponder that moment. Pondered? Rubbish all round, wasn't it .

Gradually the Pontoon emptied as the lure of the pie stall proved too much. We few, we snappy few who remained, amused ourselves with punnery and flights of fancy so wayward they met Town's passes on the M180. Wycombe fans finally got around to singing about fish. Yes, and you only sing when you're whittling wood too, Chairboys. At least we haven't got a manager who was in the Scaffold. Ah, but we do have a player who is notably bony, who would never eat his meals, and now we move him round on wheels.

"So the Vatican has animatronic Popes-in-a-box?"
"What's Williams drinking? Anti-freeze?"
"It's like a game of chess with no pieces on the board."
"I saw better football in your veterans' five-a- side game yesterday."
"You promised me we'd never see Bull again."