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28/08 Mansfield 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 29/08/2004

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.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Mansfield (h)

Grimsby Town 2 Mansfield 0
28 Aug 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Perhaps the referee had been incarcerated in his cell, forced to watch certain "highlights" of the first half, just to inform him of his errors.

They kicked off, they had the ball and did something not very interesting in the great scheme of things. I think they had a shot, probably Asamoah. It may have bumbled wide of Williams’ right hand post. It may have even excited the tourists, but I can’t remember much about it. It may have been that time when Curtis slashed a shot Poutonianly wide. Beats me; it didn’t beat Williams. So what.

Town had their obligatory 20 minute rumble after half time. Flattening the opponents with some flicking and tricking. Control regained, the puppeteer pulling the strings again. Reddy free after Macca’s marauding, he looked up, saw Parkinson in the area and rolled the ball just behind the toby-jugged pest. Parkinson again, wasting possession with poor control after more teasing play on the right. Play was held up whilst Williamson received treatment. The Mansfield fans will, I’m sure, appreciate some details here. He injured himself by trying to cripple Macca. A two-footed lunge failed to contact red socks. It was his own fault, we had no sympathy and the growling was intensified when Town threw the ball back to the yellow perils, something Mansfield failed to do in the first half in a similar circumstance. Sestanovich bundling forward, feet swiped away by yet another Mansfield defender. Booked? Maybe, maybe it was the time Reddy rippled through three challenges and dived over the final defender. There were so many of these fouls and falls they just merge in to one big Greco-Roman wrestling memory.

After about 10 minutes Ramsden stopped a long shot from Mansfield with his back. Then off he walked, replaced by Young. Gordon moved into the centre of the back three.

Still Town drove on, Surf City here we come. Parkinson twisting free after sweet, sweet music, yeah, yeah, down the right. Spinning, spinning, shooting from the edge of the area. Pilkington groped down by the foot of his near post and flipped the ball away for a corner. Cleared. Town got it back, Town throbbed, Mansfield ached, Sestanovich felled again by the fourth defender. The crowd roaring, raging, demanding action from the referee, demanding a second goal from Town. Ten yards, ten yards, TEN YARDS chimed the Pontoon, faces contorted in anger, the referee held up two fingers, literally and metaphorically, happy that the wall was a couple of yards away. Pinault’s shot flicked a head and went out for a corner. Crowd on their feet, some singing, some dancing. The corner was taken, knocked short by Pinault who received the ball back, playing keep ball, with a Mansfield defender the piggy in the middle. In came the cross, low to the near post. Young stretched and a Mansfield boot just managed to clip the ball away. Oooo.

After about 20 minutes Mansfield did a double substitution with O’Neil being replaced by a Hairy Ape, Tate, and someone else being replaced by, er, someone else. Tate looked to be wearing his hair in a bun. He was big, he was rubbish. He looked like he wanted to be in a home-made private video. You don’t need to think about him again, unless porky men with bad hair is the bag you’re into. I do hope not.

Town, still Town. The isolated Mansfield raids were foundering on the feet of formidable defenders; Whittle and Gordon, superb. Who cares about something that never happened, let’s talk Town. Reddy, magnificently, turned on the Town left, 30 yards out and za-zoomed goalwards, drifting across to the right, past one, two defenders. Curtis ran back with Reddy, pulling his shirt once, twice, thrice, but Reddy remained upright and, from about 10 yards out, had his shot deflected away for a corner. Oh no, you’re not getting away with this Mansfield, it’s still Town. A corner on the left, curled with loving care to the near post by Pinault. Young and Reddy raced in, flicked their considerable hairs and the ball drifted softly across the face of goal and a couple of feet wide.

Anthony Williams
Justin Whittle
Simon Ramsden
Dean Gordon
John McDermott
Thomas Pinaultgoal
Terry Fleming
Jason Crowegoal
Ashley Sestanovich
Michael Reddy
Andy Parkinson


Greg Young55 mins
Stacy Coldicott81 mins
Darren Mansaram89 mins
Ronnie Bull
Clint Marcelle


Steve Tanner
(South Gloucestershire)


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Oh Town, c’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 couldn’t reach it. Mansfield? They attacked, they didn’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. Don’t cry. Oh, some of you are. Bye-bye. You’d better get your bags and flee if you can’t handle defeat. What kind of support is that? No faith in their team. At least it’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 don’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 we’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 didn’t just consist of hoof and hope. They had a mobile front three backed up by some cloggers at the back. They didn’t believe in discussion, they were action men, some with real hair. But Town didn’t cave in just because someone wouldn’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 let’s get to work on the roving Court of King Russell.

Nicko’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? It’s Mr John McDermott up and down like a ferret, the old master.

Official Warning

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 we’ve seen so far this season, worse even than Cursin’ Curson from the Boston match, so he’ll probably be elevated to that suppository of shame, the third division. He gets 1.0219. Don’t come around here no more.

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