Question of the Week
Do you support Cleethorpes Town?
28/08 Mansfield 2nd Half
By: Tony Butcher
NO changes were made by either team at half time. Mansfield came out and waited around, receiving some hearty abuse form the Pontoon. After several hours Town came out.
Grimsby Town 2 Mansfield 0
Oh Town, câ€™mon, score that goal. A drizzle of raspberry coulis in midfield saw Sestanovich put his marker on a train to Eastbourne. Advancing down the centre he espied the Reddymeister to his left. He flicked, Reddy raced, Pilkington stumbled. As Reddy shot, Artell slid across and blocked with a quite magnificent tackle. More Reddy raiding, more moments of danger. To the bye-line on the right, he consulted his caddy and old faithful Macca suggested that rusty sand iron. He lofted the ball lazily beyond the flag, leaving himself a tricky downhill put. Crowe couldnâ€™t reach it. Mansfield? They attacked, they didnâ€™t really threaten. There were fleeting moments of panic in the Pontoon, as a free-kick was pumped into the area, players collided, the ball dropped, a yellow sock wafted, the ball ambled wide. A ball over the top, Williams raced out and flicked it basketball style over the top of the striker, catching it on first bounce. Again Williams raced out and smothered the ball near the corner of the area. Nearly moments of near disaster, but no shots, no threat, nothing.
With around 10 minutes left Sestanovich was replaced by Coldicott. Now what formation Town played is not clear, though it did look like two up front and three at the back. Whatever it was, Crowe was suddenly more prominent in attack. A break, Crowe free, ball nearly passed to him. Close. Mansfield hurled men forward, huge spaces appeared at their back. With about 5 minutes left Town won possession on the right, just outside the Town area. Tippy-tappy passing, some members of the crowd frustrated at this precise possession game. Get it forward. Oh, but they did. Coldicott, near the touchline about 30 yards out from the Town goal, cracked a longish pass up to Parkinson at the halfway line. Parky twizzled and cuddled a perfect pass through the remaining defenders. Crowe hurtled forward down the centre. On, on, on. Pilkington came, Pilkington saw CROWE roll the ball across and into the bottom right hand corner from the edge of the area. Pilkington conquered; Mansfield marooned: the wind had whipped up and blown their dinghy away. Donâ€™t cry. Oh, some of you are. Bye-bye. Youâ€™d better get your bags and flee if you canâ€™t handle defeat. What kind of support is that? No faith in their team. At least itâ€™ll clear the roads for us when we go to Tesco.
A couple of minutes later Mansaram replaced Reddy. Immediately Pinault fell over and had to receive some treatment. There were some minutes of added time, they passed, as did Town. The whistle blew, we stood up and made some noise. We donâ€™t need Kazoos to get a party going. Slade shook hands with several Town players, principally the defenders, then came over to accept the plaudits of the Pontoon.
Phew, sort of. It was the least compelling Town performance in some ways, but in others it was the most heartening. Mansfield were by far the best fourth division team weâ€™ve played so far. They could play a bit, not as good as we have done in previous games, but hints of tastiness, like a frozen pizza. Well drilled, they had an attacking plan which didnâ€™t just consist of hoof and hope. They had a mobile front three backed up by some cloggers at the back. They didnâ€™t believe in discussion, they were action men, some with real hair. But Town didnâ€™t cave in just because someone wouldnâ€™t let them play with their ball.
There we are again, happy as can be. Fortress Blundell Park has been renovated and is looking most impressive. Now letâ€™s get to work on the roving Court of King Russell.
Nickoâ€™s Man of the Match
Nicko is finding it difficult these days: so many decent performers, and everyone trying really hard. The front three were less effective than normal and the midfield only bossed half the game. Pinault, well, sapphire and steel, a velvet glove with a concrete hand. Fleming loved the fight, but the defence needs some hugging. Gordon, Whittle and Ramsden were excellent. So who can it be? Itâ€™s Mr John McDermott up and down like a ferret, the old master.
S Tanner. Never controlled the game, he let too many whacks go unpunished at the start and looked like a startled rabbit when players became self appointed law enforcers. The worst referee weâ€™ve seen so far this season, worse even than Cursinâ€™ Curson from the Boston match, so heâ€™ll probably be elevated to that suppository of shame, the third division. He gets 1.0219. Donâ€™t come around here no more.
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