Omar comin'

Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

13 August 2015

Grimsby Town 4 Barrow 1

A bright, balmy, beautiful night in the bouncing heart of the new world order. We're home, we're happy and Grimsby expects. Barely a spare seat or a dry eye in the house of pain. Omar's here.

Town lined up in a 4-4-2 as follows: McKeown, Tait, Gowling, Nsiala, East, Arnold, Clay, Disley, Monkhouse, Amond, Bogle. The substitutes were Robertson, Pearson, Mackreth, Venney and Clifton. Pearson dropped, jaws dropped.

Oh dear, what will they do? Town back in black and Barrow in blue. I say ooh, what will they do? Let's find out by going through the looking glass.

First half: Adventures near Wonderland

The Barrowboys kicked off towards the Pontoon with a quack and a waddle and a flurry of eiderdown. Hustle and bustle, a deep furrowed frown, Andy Cook's feathers were all stubby and brown.

I'm happy, hope you're happy too. One flash of light, but no smoking pistol for the Barrowboys. A free kick, wafted and wasted over. That's them, now let's talk about us.

Arnold smash, Amond slash, let's Bogle-boogie all night long. A Bogle barrow-roll and blast. A corner, Gowling quiff-lashed and the keeper scooped. Flicks and tricks, look at the power and dream of glory.

Bogle bundled by a Barrowman, Arnold with a quick kick, and Tait teased to the far post. Monkhouse awaited. Monkhouse: tall, old, slow. Knows where to stand, knows when to leap and knows how to head. Monkhouse headed back across and over the sprawling, leaping keeper. Top corner, top goal. He knows you know, and Barrow had problems.

Jamie Mack punted long and high, Monkyman arose to bedonk infield. Grand dawdled, Arnold snuffled. Bogle waltzed away and caroused carefully around Dixon's crawling fingers. Look at his face, just look at his face. Omar, we're all crazy now.

Barrow a shower as Town flowered. Shall we open the floodgates in the second half? Shall we turn on the floodlights for the second half?

Second half: The hunting on the park

Neither team made any changes at half time.

Town torpor. Livesey grazed nothingly nowhere. Town: free-flowing almostness with Mr Teasy Weasy, the gliding barber of Park Street. Arnie: he's back.

Triangles! They're back! Slick and quick, smooth and in the groove. Arnie the conductor, Omar the Magnificent spin-master, swivel poking a nutmeg for the onrushing Arnold. A low roller brushed Dixon's fingers, rippled agin the right post and spun past Amond. Monkhouse: tall, old, slow. Knows where to stand, knows when to shoot and knows how to score. He knows, you know; he's got experience.

Town raiding, Barrow fading. A corner. Elevation Mr Arnold! He elevated. Barrowboys in a ball of confusion, Bogle bundling, Nsiala scrumbling a scrambled egg. Toto went loco down in Acapulco, heading off to leap on Deputy Doig.

Bogle lobbed marvellously for number five. No, offside. That's the end of the good life. Mackreth replaced Amond, Arnold moved forward and Toto went to sleep. Twenty minutes to go, twenty minutes of slack sloppiness and sloppy slackness.

Walker waltzed after Gowling was rugby tackled on the dark side of the loon. Jamie Mack leapt like a dead salmon, East hoofed away. Toto dummied a hoof, Walker waltzed and wafted against the post off McKeown's solar panels. Gowling stopped the howling with a sliding smother block.

Clay was replaced by the tiny, tiny Venney, a spinning Ewok. Neat, sensible passing and a sensible hairstyle (by modern standards of today). How very Buckleyan.

Added time and an up 'n' under. Newby their newboy netted. Like The Empire Strikes Back, it ended on such a downer. Don't worry, the force is strong with this one.