Question of the Week
How long before new manager arrives?
14/08 Bury 2nd Half
By: Tony Butcher
NO changes were made by either team at half time. Town kicked off and nothing was ever the same again. Bury remained in the fourth division, humping, lumping, playing with hope rather than expectation. Town? Town got in their spaceship and blasted off to another planet entirely.
Grimsby Town 5 Bury 1
Around the 64th minute Town toyed with Bury down the centre right, flipping, flopping, finagling the ball around. Finally Parkinson received the ball, drifted infield slightly and from the centre dinked the most delicate of chips over the keeper from about 30 yards out. The ball looped and drooped, kissing the underside of the crossbar and bouncing out. PINAULT hared in and toe-poked the bouncing ball in from about 8 yards out. Câ€™est bon, câ€™est Tom. Itâ€™s party time, and that was just the aperitif.
Town won the ball back from the kick off and the expert swordsman ripped Buryâ€™s shirt without drawing blood. Reddy skipping, shimmering, swaying past defenders on the left after a four man pass and move. He reached the bye-line, looked up and rolled a pass across the face of goal. McDermott steamed in and from about a dozen yards out steered a left foot shot goalwards. The ball bounced off a yellow sock near the goal-line.
In the 67th minute Bury got inside the Town penalty area. Porter headed softly at Williams. A minute later and Town were showbaiting. OlÃ©, olÃ©, olÃ©, oops. Pinault dispossessed, Nugent away, rolling past a Whittle waft and just Williams to beat. He tried to place the ball to Williamsâ€™ right and the hirsutely sensitive stopper blocked for a corner. Thatâ€™s it for them.
Sestanovich, linking beautifully with the fearsome Reddy, drifted in from the left and pinged a shot over the angle of post and bar. Bury were dizzy, about to fall down, confused by this whirligig spinning around their ears. The Sladettes in the Pontoon were singing already, and better was to come. In the 73rd minute Town scored a beautifully crafted team goal, one that brought tears to many eyes as they enjoyed watching the woodcarver chip away at the block. McDermott, on the right touchline inside the Town half, finessed the ball up the wing to Parkinson, who flew past his nominal marker, chasing the ball towards the corner flag. He caught up with it, turned, and passed the ball back to Macca, who flipped the ball across into the penalty area. Reddy ran across the defender and flicked the ball towards the bye-line, cruising down the strip, window open, shades on, surfinâ€™ down the Prom. He advanced along the line, looked up and passed to the far post, where PINAULT raced in and side footed the ball into the empty net. Pinault stood in front of the Pontoon and even the men without hats danced for him.
Still, thereâ€™s more. A couple of minutes later Town broke forward at speed, Parkinson and Reddy raiding on the right. The move ended only when they realised Sestanovich, who had started it all off, was in a heap in the centre holding his face. We all blamed Challinor-Boo just for old timesâ€™ sake, though it was a smaller, sturdier little scamp who did it, whatever it was. No free kick, no booking, a throw in to them. A couple of minutes after that the roving Sestanovich picked up a pass in midfield and zoomed goalwards. The bees were attracted to the honeypot and he licked a lovely pass to Reddy, who had peeled away , making two excellent little runs. The ball rolled forward and Reddy, on the centre left edge of the area, allowed the ball to run between his legs whilst running towards the Pontoon. REDDY awaited the defender, swayed across him, across another and placed a low shot in to the bottom left hand corner via Garnerâ€™s finger tips. We stood, we hailed Prince Michael. He accepted the crown.
Bury were naked before us, stripped of dignity, shredded and lying in the wastepaper bin. Town had no mercy, rolling forward, teasing, pleasing us, embarrassing them with all manner of party tricks. A couple of minutes after his goal Reddy was almost through again, the defenders scared to go near him, shuffling like Pacmen across the penalty area, and only the sheer weight of defenders stopped a goal. Or perhaps it was the sheer weight of numbers of defenders, either way, you catch the drift. And then he was off. No, not Reddy, but Pinault: the conductor passed his baton to Coldicott with 10 minutes left. And with about 5 minutes left Bull replaced McDermott, which meant Crowe went to the right, of course.
Is that it? Almost, but not before Bury were driven to madness by the, quite frankly, Mickey-taking showing off by Town. Remember that old clip of Leeds v Southampton, Town tried to do that, with Sestanovich as Johnny Giles. And finally Crowe nearly scored. Passing, passing, moving, moving, Reddy, wonderful Reddy, rolled a perfect pass into his path and Crowe sliced a shot from the centre edge of the penalty area. Garner saved extremely well to his left. Whittle hooked a shot goalwards following a corner and, in added time, Reddy seeped into the area, just outside the 6 yards box and tried an audaciously early reverse hook which he didnâ€™t quite hit hard enough.
Bury were in trouble, under half a ton of rubble. So the ref had another cup of tea and then we went home.
Whoâ€™s having more fun than us in our footballing treehouse? If last year we were had, feeling sad and blue, this year Russâ€™s making us feel shiny and new. Write off the first half: the second was magnificent, supreme entertainment, and it felt like it was the norm, not a flash in the pan Ã la Barnsley in February. There were subtle tactical changes in the second half, especially when Reddy came on, for Parkinson went out wider and was much, much more effective. Sestanovich seemed to have a roving brief and was doing a lot of covering tackles when attacks were repulsed. And Reddyâ€™s getting better all the time. After changing his scene heâ€™s doing the best that he can and thatâ€™s far, far more than is needed in the fourth division. The boy has style. The defence were perkier, and Gordon got into the flow and pace of the game as it wore on. Why donâ€™t this new Town put on the style in the first half of a game? The frontline is fearsome, at least a division below itâ€™s true level. The garden is about to bloom.
Just one question, how high are Russâ€™s clouds?
Nickoâ€™s Man of the Match
Sestanovich put in a lot of effort, especially defensively, in the second half. Itâ€™s that work ethic thing. Reddyâ€™s cameo lifted Town up several levels but, once again, Thomas Pinault, the princely puppeteer strutted some funky stuff, floating passes in a most p-p-perculiar way. Heâ€™s causing such a stir the papers want to know whose shirt he wears. Townâ€™s! It isnâ€™t all pretty patterns, for there is some steel inside that French fancy. His hooking, sliding Poutonian tackle on Rob Nugent on the edge of the Town area had the ladies fainting, and the laddies praising.
Mr E Ilderton. He cannot get good marks, for he left Challinor on the pitch. But then again he did give Town two penalties. Should we be churlish, should we be sweet, youâ€™ll have to wait and see. Oh, alright, 6.342.
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