Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

1 September 2021

Stockport County 0 Grimsby Town 0

Well, I was there. You may have been there, but where is there? Where are we now, where are we now?
6,000 people crossing the A6, fingers crossed, just in case. Football, it may happen.

Funky Town lined up in a fun-loving 5-3-2 formation as follows: McKeown, Efete, Waterfall, Longe-King, Crookes, Revan, Hunt, Coke, Clifton, McAtee and Taylor. The substitutes were Pearson, Fox Wright, John-Lewis, Sousa and Bapaga. Town go better with Coke, that's no joke.

Some folks are born into a good life, and other folks get it anyway, anyhow. An embarrassment of riches or the richest are embarassing. Hey, that the Bananarama for you.

Stockport: don't sleep in the subway, the night is long. It's the Dickensian aspect.

First half – Shotless in the dark

Red Town kicked off away from 1,200 travelling Townites. And then it was half time. Hang on, did I miss something? There's something in the way Town move that attracts me like a pomegranate. I don't like pomegranates, I prefer sausages.

There was motion, and emotion, but no action or distraction. There was nothing but darkness on the edge of town.

You've got to hold and give, but do it at the right time. Stockport in shackles, Town making tackles, the ref raising hackles.

You can be slow or fast, but you must get to the line. Someone, somewhere, claimed a red-shirted footballer kicked the ball towards the home goal. Oh how we laughed at this alternative comedy routine. Do you want a bag on your head?

And what you're looking at is the master plan.

Town keep movin', keep on groovin' with some negative energy. They yin, we yang, oh the sturm und drang of a night out in Stockport on a greasy green footy pitch. Those super black and whites fill the home end with inertia again.

After half an hour one slip and down the hole we fall. A momentary lapse of reason on the left and the Lounge King stretched out on his chaise-longue at the near post to paw aside a flashing cross.

Huffing, puffing, chuffing 'eck, is this football? Red pawn takes blue knight. Blue rook takes red bishop. Blue drama queen falls over.

Raikhy raced away as Crookes chesty-slipped into the path of a tickle. To the bye-line, to cross, to nutmeg. Reid stood alone three yards out from the gaping goal. To you, to me, let's chuckle.

Madden maraudered as Revan roamed in the rain, a day-dreamer, chasing rainbows he may never find again. Jumpin' Jehoshaphat! Reid flailed and Efete accidentally stun-shinned aside and away from the far post. We're shocked. And stunned.

Lately I have had the strangest feeling with no vivid reason here to find. Why I am thinking about minor Stevie Wonder hits as Knick-Knack Paddy Madden whacked a volley wide after a stray corner was cleared?
What is this? We are watching the biggest nothing in history. Town are nothing but a red wall that Stockport are bouncing their egos off.

Second half – I don't want to talk about it

Neither team made any changes at half time.

Crookes chipped and McAtee chased. A corner! Elevation now, c'mon, let's have some elevation. No elevation, no celebration, no surprises. Nothing.

Biff, bang and an up'n'under. McAtee chased Keane, the ball bounced, Kean flounced and McAtee stroked around the Stockport goalkeeper into heaven and hell. No! For the first time today the referee decided physical contact was not permitted.

Them. Pummelling a dead horse as a goal was disallowed for offside, Tsh, 'twas clearly offside from our vista. Mmm, I used to like a Vista curry.

No alarms and no surprises.

The Lounge King sat down and Pearson stood up to be counted. Little Harry lost the ball, Little Harry chased the ball, Little Harry stopped them having a ball.

No alarms and no surprises. Silence. Silence.

Moments of blueness, occasional ruefulness. Rooney walloped high, Rooney hooked wide. Madden deflected widely at the near post as the ennui was terminal. Legs extended, head defended.

No alarms and no surprises, please get me out of here.

Lennie replaced Taylor, Fox replaced Revan. A cross, a cross, a cross again as Lennie missed the ball, Lennnie fell on the ball and McAtee stood on the ball. These are facts, beyond lies a world of fantasy and make believe. Don't go down the rabbit hole. Do not seek the treasure, you'll be turned into a toad.

Let the record state that the Stockport goalkeeper was required to be present. He wasn't required to actually touch the ball, but we can't have everything, can we.

Four minutes were added. Madden glanced highly, widely and offsidely. McAtee sat down on the touchline and a helpful steward held his leg. You can always rely on the kindness of strangers.

That was that. No saves by either keeper. Town? No crosses, no shots. We got in the way. Not worth seeing, not worth going to see. Beautiful plumage.