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22/11 Brentford Part 2
By: Tony Butcher
WE laughed at such desperation, or perhaps they have a surreal sense of humour. Chuckling turned to heckling, outrage, indignant fury - and that was just the players. The mad man in green had immediately pointed to the penalty spot, tapping his forearm.
Brentford 1 Grimsby Town 3
Not that Brentford seemed to care, happy as Larry they were, floating on, splish-sploshing about, lumping balls down the channels, chipping and chasing; Hutchinson omnipresent, starting them, stopping us. Another corner, another free header, with one of their big centre backs heading several yards over the bar from about 12 yards out. Then a long shot, lovingly wide, causing the umbrellas to part like the Red Sea as it made its way towards central London. The game drifting away, marooned, listless, lifeless, no paddles to row this boat ashore. In the 35th minute Brentford had another chance, created by the water. Lumped long, down the Town left Crane had the ball covered until it stopped dead in the ever growing puddle near the corner flag. Off went the attacker, over went the cross, clipped to the near post, flicked to the far post Hunt, alone, a dozen yards out. McDermott and Edwards advanced, Hunt allowed the ball to bounce off his chest then volleyed hugely over the bar, the ball dipping onto the terraces, the terraces whooping in joy. More isolated Brentford attacks with the usual ricochets and hustlings causing concern, but no efforts on goal. Davison only touched the ball when receiving it back from the terrace dwellers. More rain, more calls for the game to be abandoned, memories came rushing back of great abandonments past. Were you there in Swindon? Sunderland? Surely it canâ€™t go on, for the ball isnâ€™t. Another stupid challenge by May resulted in him finally being booked, for as the ball rolled out for a goal kick, right in front of the Town fans, he shoved Barnard into the metal fence behind the goal.
In the last minute of the half Hamilton, about 40 yards out on the left, curled a free kick low towards the far post. Crane raced in and, somewhere near the edge of the area, glanced a header a foot or so wide of the â€™keeperâ€™s left hand post. Ah well, half time coming and only one down. Perhaps the referee would call the game off? Brentford surged forward and attacked Townâ€™s right, but these hordes were repulsed. The ball was knocked up to Boulding about 30 yards out way out on the right, who expertly held off a giant defender and tipped the ball to Anderson who was sprinting down the touchline. Anderson dribbled on, down the touchline towards the bye-line, then crossed deep, to the far post. ONUORA, between two defenders, headed goalwards from about 6 yards out at the far post. The goalkeeper dived, the ball bounced down and Boulding trotted away with his hand in the air rather than tapping the ball into the empty net. Only then did we realise - a goal. Up went the umbrellas, dancing in the dark. The rest of the half was without concern. Brentford tried to press, got a couple of corners, but nothing happened, for the Town defence was organised, solid, resolute and all those other words that are wheeled out at times like this.
Half time: Brentford 1 Grimsby Town 1
Despite the conditions, Town had played some decent football in fleeting moments and generally coped with the up and at â€™em approach by the striped locals. Generally coped? Well, Davison had only made one save and they had just a couple of headers and one shot. Not much for a high tempo route one-ish side who rely on the law of averages. One could almost stretch to say Town looked comfortable. Not too far mind, your emotional hamstring might snap.
It was still raining.
Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk
"I hope your car isnâ€™t parked below sea level".
The report continues in the Second Half.
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