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20/11 Kidderminster 2nd Half

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 21/11/2004

KIDDERMINSTER replaced Christiansen with Matias. I spent 40 minutes convinced that Stamp had been substituted too, but apparently not, he was still out there in the distance somewhere, roaming the plains of Abraham.

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

Grimsby Town 2 Kidderminster Harriers 1
20 Nov 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Town didn’t make any changes at all, apart from in attitude, which was, shall we say, "relaxed".

Kidderminster raced off from the start, presumably the dry stone walls inside the dressing room inspired Cunningtonian memories of a tea chucking past, the spirit of Buckley permeated his pores and inspired a heavenly fight back. Town’s defence splayed like a frightened giraffe, little red roosters boostering about. A shot from outside the area, swerving to his left, Williams parried aside, as is his habit. Fortunately no Kidderman pounced. Possession was surrendered with a punt upfield, back the Kidderboys came and the huge centre back, Sall, arched forward and arced a header safely over.

Town creaking, fans croaking, no joking now.

Back they came again, roving, roaming Brown, surging, urging on his team-mates. Felled, fouled, a free kick 25 yards out on the centre right. Brown and Bennett worked out a cunning routine whilst the referee took an age to get the wall back. Bennett watched as Brown took two steps and curled the ball into row A seat 22. Ah, simple, and ineffective, we like opponents that way. Pity elements of our defence aspire to such heights of sophistication.

Town reverted to recent type - a fierce determination that Andy Parkinson will win a header one day. Humping, lumping, pumping piffle. Like a particularly cynical fast food chain, Town shoved those cheap burgers straight down the toilet, cutting out the middle men entirely. Out of character, out of the blue, out of the mists of time, or at least the time before four o’clock, Town strung several passes together. Sestanovich the transient, ambient, ambivalent waddler, bounced defenders away down the right hand touchline. Pinault, one touch, one pass, out to Gordon. A loopy-droopy cross and Parkinson was unmarked at the far post, just six yards out. Parky leapt up, shook his head and the ball dropped behind. Unless you were in the middle of the Pontoon you probably wouldn’t realise how poor that effort was, it took a lot of skill to avoid contact with the ball.

All the play was down the Osmond end, crosses, trouble, moments of indecision, moments of danger. Town being worn down, Matias actually winning headers against Macca and flicking on into space between and behind the terrible twosome, the Ant Hill Mob in the centre. On the hour, on cue, Town dissolved. A whack over the top and Bull slipped, then ran in a huge parabola away from the ball. Brown was free, running down the centre right from the half way line. OK, we know, this is the goal, here it is. Into the area, Williams shivering in front of him, Brown spangled a low drive against the inside of the right post. The ball bounced out and away from red shirts, but straight to monochrome. Lucky.

More crosses and pressure football from the Kiddermen then Sestanovich bulldozed his way through the urban wasteland that was the Kidderminster right, making space for a six lane information superhighway complete with hotel conferencing facilities and a children’s play area near the Police Box. Three flies swatted, a fourth crushed in his hands. At the bye-line, a look up, Crowe bounding in free, and a perfectly weighted pull back. Crowe, about a dozen yards out, leant back and carelessly steered the ball a foot or so over the cross bar. The crowd was past rumble, now into the grumble zone. Every mis-control by Parkinson, every aimless hoof from Whittle and Jones was greeted with an ever-increasing crescendo of growls. A knee jerked, and a voice box was activated. A dozen children wanted Hockless on. What? The transfer list? No, apparently they wanted him on the pitch. More dumbling dreadfulness in defence, Williams starting to flap, crosses allowed to be made, clearances were shinned, passes were pinged straight to opponents.

Anthony Williamsyellow card
John McDermott
Justin Whittle
Rob Jones
Ronnie Bull
Ashley Sestanovich
Thomas Pinaultgoal
Jason Crowe
Dean Gordongoal
Colin Cramb
Andy Parkinson


Stacy Coldicott77 mins
Paul Fraser
Graham Hockless
Greg Young
Danny North


Anthony Leake


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Parkinson almost got on the end of a flick into space inside the area, but he looked to see where the ‘keeper was then stopped, allowing the ball to skid through. Gordon flung a free kick to the far post, Jones headed goalwards and Parkinson headed wide from 6 yards. Rare moments of interest in a deluge of dreariness.

With about 20 minutes left Kidderminster, again, attacked down the Town right. Macca forced Brown wide towards the corner flag. Cramb ambled back with an opponent behind him. The Kidderman moved, Cramb didn’t, Brown passed infield to a team-mate near the corner of the penalty area. The ball was crossed low, MATIAS stepped forward and swept the ball into the top right hand corner from about eight or so yards out as Jones stood behind watching. Absolute silence, the referee hung around the penalty area with his hand in the air. Confusion, had it been disallowed? No, someone was being booked for something unobserved by the mutineering Mariners.

Town got worse and more passes were made straight to Kidderminster; more holes appeared. Bull slipped again, Brown again racing free, Jones and Whittle denying with stretching lunges. Full scale booing imminent; a change needed,

With 15 minutes left the substitution was made, and you’d never have guessed who came off. He certainly didn’t. Mr Dean Gordon, scourge of the Kidderminster right, was replaced by Coldicott. Crowe went to the wide left position with Coldicott back in the centre. Well, with Gordon only on a rolling short term contract he might not take kindly to such decisions by his present employer. It’s gonna be a cold, cold Christmas without you if you’re too annoyed, or at least as annoyed as the fans, who booed to the rafters.

Did things improve? Not much, possession was rarely retained, movement was restricted. The odd moment of Svengali Sestanovich, or Pinaultian pleasure was just a single Smartie in a vat of lard. Kidderminster bombarded Town with direct football. Flicks, tricks, getting on our wick. The Town defenders trembling. Rebounds, ricochets, flashing drives, blocks and surprising shots raining in. Williams had to make a save when, with the Town defence in a pickle, one of their players, which may have been Stamp, shot straight into his midriff from somewhere near the penalty spot, give or take a 500 yards radius.

A Town break, Cramb determinedly shaking off two defenders, bursting out to the right touchline. Rolling the ball underfoot, awaiting reinforcements, Stan the Trolley bus clang, clang, clanged along to help. Kidderminster players bounced off his forcefield as he circled the area. He espied Crowe streaming in on floodlight beams, and rolled the ball into a huge space on the right of their area. Crowe shook his left foot at the ball and it safely cleared the bar. A minute or so later Cramb cushioned a lay off to Parkinson just outside the area, who shimmied, shook and shanked a shot wide, it taking a deflection on the way.

There were three minutes of added time which Town tried to waste in the corners, but didn’t, as usual. Kidderminster ended the game with a huge punt into the area. Williams flapped, missed and the ball bounced towards the left hand corner of the goal. Jones acrobatically hooked the ball off the line. The linesman’s flag was up for something, and that was that. The ceremonial booing could begin.

Yes, Town were booed off after winning. The second half had been so poor with opponents who had looked incapable of boiling an egg being allowed to dictate the evening meal: the vocal displeasure was justified. Town, in the end, were lucky to win. They should have been four or five up at half time, but just failed in the second half. Who’s to blame? Not me, or you, that’s for sure. Did the players play to instructions? Or did they just decide to have a stroll, the job done before sunset? Whenever Pinault or Sestanovich (who was very tactically disciplined for once) had the ball something looked like happening, but the others didn’t give it to them much. It’s quite simple really.

Isn’t it strange how little Town change.

Nicko’s Man of the Match

For adequate achievement in the field of dismality the award goes to Mr Colin Cramb. Gordon and Pinault were in the last three, but why not share the prizes around?

Markie’s UnMan of the Match

Rob Jones saved himself by that last minute hook off the line and for a Woodsian shoulder shake in the first half where he sent a striker the wrong way and rolled a perfect pass out to a team-mate. It was positively Handysidian. It’s a coin flicking metaphor between Parkinson and Crowe. Does Parkinson get let off because he was injured? No.

Official Warning

A Leake. I can’t remember him much, apart from a very defined side parting, which looked sculpted. Apart from booking someone after Kidderminster’s goal for some ill defined heinous crime, he was, for the most part, a reluctant booker, which helped Brown and Bull stay on the pitch. We can’t blame him for rubbish linespeople, can we? For the suggestion that he spends hours every day in front of the mirror with a soft hairbrush he gets 6.66, always assuming he has a reflection.

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