Cod Almighty | Match Report
by Miles Moss
24 January 2006
Stockport County 2 Grimsby Town 1
It was one of those nights you expect to be bone-freezingly cold, so the 400-strong Town support had prepared themselves for the worst, with hats, gloves and thermal long johns. One chap even brought a dead rabbit, which he pulled firmly down over his ears. Low temperatures were not the only thing the away support were preparing themselves for: there seemed to be a sense of foreboding about this match. Sure, Stockport were bottom of the table, but so they were last time we were here; yes, Town could go top with a win here, but had the energetic and exciting start to the season sapped the first team's reserves?
Or was this just unnecessary pessimism? Perhaps the weather was a portent: as kick-off approached, the general consensus was that it was a lot milder than people expected; nothing to worry about - some jumpers hadn't even been put on yet, and many hats and gloves remained in pockets for now, but would be needed in an hour and a half, when the mild Cheshire night went Antarctic on our asses.
Town's line-up: Mildenhall, Croft, Our Jones, Young Futcher, McDermott, Parkinson, Toner (or Turner, as Tannoyman insisted on calling him), Bolland, Cohen, Mendes, Reddy. The submariners were Newey, Bloomer, Barwick, Ashton, and the newly-bearded Gritton, whose facial hair prompted a brief discussion about a Town Beard XI. Cohen was up front with Reddy, with Mendes on the left, Parky on the right.
Town kicked off from right to left on your telly and within a few minutes, a foul by Jones (as if!) gave Stockport a free kick. Griffin went all Sale Sharks and converted it into the empty seating behind the goal. Immediately, Town attacked, a wonderful flowing move culminating in a diving header from Cohen which really deserved a goal. The post didn't think so, though, and got in the way. Agh!
Hey, Stockport have Mickael Wolski playing for them - isn't he the big green one-eyed ghoul in Monsters Inc? Anyway, both sides had a few stabs at goal over the next few minutes, but nothing really worthy of an ooooh, until after about 15 minutes, someone was booked for shirt-pulling. Can you guess who it wa... oh, you have already. Futcher, yeah. The free kick from just outside the Town box was heading for the top corner when Mildenhall flew to his right and pushed the ball up and over the bar with his left hand. An excellent save.
The half then descended into a bit of a lumpy, shoulder-barging, turgid affair. Every two minutes, players would just jump into each other near the ball, and sometimes fall over. Tes Bramble looked as if he had a keen interest in wrestling, enraging the Town support by persistently backing into Town players and not getting booked for it. The BBC text commentary reveals how dull the match was becoming, showing nothing more than throw-ins between 30 and 40 minutes.
All of a sudden, Town nearly scored. An exciting series of fast, penetrating passes left Toner in his favourite shooting position, 20 yards out. The power behind the shot suggested it would go in, but the Stockport keeper, like a selfless bodyguard laying down his life for some dignitary, threw himself at the ball, which hit him full in the bulletproof vest and bounced clear.
One of the final pieces of action, that Toner shot had livened up an otherwise meritless half. Town weren't awful, and had started really well, but it hadn't been what you'd call enjoyable. It was good to see Macca back and performing well, and Mendes looked competent, quite possibly a good signing. Futcher, though, is a bit scary, choosing to overcomplicate his clearances with fancy turns and hooks where a good old thwack seems more appropriate. At one point he hooked the ball behind him and it bounced with pinpoint precision between the two advancing Stockport strikers and straight to Parky on the wing. It was so lucky it made us all laugh. Nervously.
Stockport replaced the guy from Monsters Inc with Danny Boshell, prompting a big "WHO?" from the Town end. Don't do that: you're tempting fate. Town started the second half as they had the first, looking like they might score.
And this time they did. Cohen chased a long ball, forcing the keeper into a big punt. The ball was headed back into the Stockport half, and Reddy teased it forward. By the time he reached the corner of the area, he was surrounded by three Stockport defenders. This didn't seem to matter, as he turned all three of them and lashed a low shot across goal into the far corner, the keeper flummoxed. Poor defending, you could say, but an excellent goal. The Mariners fans revelled in the fact that at this moment their team was top of the league, and then rather uncharitably taunted their opposite numbers with unnecessary jibes about relegation.
For the next ten or so minutes, the game reflected the polar league positions, and Town could have had three or four more goals. Shots by Bolland and Cohen were saved and narrowly missed; a Rob Jones header from a corner was just the wrong side of the post; another bazooka from Toner went straight at the keeper; and in probably the best move of the half, Cohen cut a ball in from the left bye-line towards Parky, waiting in acres of space and sure to score. Unfortunately, the ball was intercepted by Reddy who wasn't in acres of space and made things difficult for himself by twisting and turning before smacking a fairly lame shot straight at the keeper. Parky was not best pleased, and moaned about it for the next five minutes.
With around 20 minutes left, Stockport replaced Griffin with Dickinson, and were shortly forced into replacing the awkward Bramble after he smashed into Mildenhall when chasing a loose ball. The two players crunched into each other on the floor; the ball spun loose and Bramble got up to chase it, seemingly having an open goal to tap it into. Instead, before he reached the goal, he fell over in agony and was helped off the pitch to be replaced by Adam Le Fondre. MyLordenhall, meanwhile, appeared totally unscathed.
The introduction of the two new Hatters prompted two more shouts of "WHO?" from our end. I did ask you not to do that - it really is tempting fate. Told you so. Within two minutes of his arrival, Le Fondre had scored. The ball had been passed unchallenged from the centre to the unmarked Clare on the right wing, who clipped it to Le Fondre, unmarked on the left, right in front of goal. A simple goal, well taken, but one that was easily preventable had anybody decided to try and defend.
It soon got even worse. Seconds after Mendes was subbed for Gritton, a hopeful hoof from Stockport's own half doodlebugged towards Rob Jones, closely marking Le Fondre. As the ball came down, Le Fondre stuck his leg out and managed to hit it. It could have gone anywhere, but perhaps this was the moment Stockport's luck turned for the season, as the ball looped high into the air, over Mildenhall, bouncing on the goal line and up into the net.
Two minutes later, Le Fondre almost had a hat-trick, getting on the end of a corner, but Mildenhall saved. The night got colder, Town fell apart, and the splenetic chaps in front of us exploded in purple rage, their anger overpowering their sense of geography as they screamed "Cheating Scousers!" at the Stockport players and fans.
In the last ten minutes, the game got a bit niggly and referee Salisbury went a bit mental, flashing his yellow card for tiny fouls, looking at him in a funny way, and walking round town with an offensive wife. Right at the end, it seemed that Town were going to get a sort-of-but-not-really-deserved point when Gritton and the ball were in close proximity just a couple of feet from the Stockport goal. Gritton stumbled, the keeper collected the ball, we all sat down again.
The game ended. It was a match the Mariners could have won - not because Town were near the top and Stockport had been bottom, but because the chances were there at the start of each half to score two or three and kill it off completely. Still, despite Stockport's second goal being contender for Fluke Of The Year, that they won wasn't a travesty, and I don't resent them taking the three points as I don't resent the £19 entrance fee: these are hard times, and they need the money and the points. I'm such a charitable soul.
Man of the match
During the good bits, everyone was pretty good, but if I had to choose, I'd go for Paul Bolland, who is consistently impressive.
Un-man of the match
Ben Futcher, you make me anxious.