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24/09 Boston Part 2

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 25/09/2005

A free kick to Town. Hey, we're a set piece team now, let's get ready to rumble. Chipped forward by Kalala, flicked on by Jones, Gritton shimmied behind and, from the edge of the six yards box, volleyed across Abbey and into the top left hand corner.

Home > 2005-2006 Season > Reports > Boston (a)

Boston United 1 Grimsby Town 1
24 Sep 2005, Coca Cola League 2

Offside. Let's get ready to grumble about that from our perfect position 120 yards away.

A couple of minutes later Newey nicked the ball away from a Boston player, Kalala spinning and clipping a pass down the left wing. Reddy clucked away from the halfway line, the Boston defence in lukewarm pursuit. McCann threw himself forward, leg outstretched as Reddy approached the area. This courting dance was about to reach its climax: man touched man with the suitor's advances causing Dame Margot Reddy to fall for him. Reddy accepted his proposal and plunged headlong in to the area. The linesman put his flag across his chest, the players wandered around for a few seconds and the referee wearily waved a red card. Err, at who? Has Reddy been sent off? No, McCann is no longer a Boston minder. Toodle-oo.

The most famous Congolese player in Grimsby history walked up and calmly rolled the ball down the centre as Abbey flew to his right. For those not reading in black and white, KALALA had scored.

This is all very pleasant.

Boston took off Jason Lee and brought on a little winger, Danny Thomas. It's the iron law of the fourth, every team has a Town reject or rejector. They all want the reflected glory, don't they. Town started to knock the ball around a bit, even playing short passes on the ground, performing little Bermuda triangles around the local lettuce. Gritton was a prominent fulcrum around which Town twinkled; Newey tipping, Gritton tapping, Reddy free. Ooh ref, play advantage sometimes, will yer! Ah, some more lovely piggy-in-the-middle football confusing the horticulturists with some loopy first-time volley passing,. Gritton-Reddy-Gritton: briefly free on the edge of the area, but the Scotch broth waited too long for the ball to bounce, moment lost.

Boston huffling, Town puffling them back, easily repelling these little gnats. Cohen picked up a clearance 25 yards out, McDermott sprinted up the wing awaiting a pass, but Cohen simply gave the ball to the Bostonian. Danger, danger, Boston breaking. The mighty Macca surged back 20 yards, dispossessing this upstart and saving Town.

What a lovely day. Did you know that Radio Lincolnshire are running a folk song competition. The song must be about Lincolnshire though. We really must enter. Pontoon, Paul and Mary singing a jaunty jiggalong: "It wasn't like this in Lawrie Mac's Day (when the hair was longer than the shorts)". I'll let you work on the rest, we can share writers credits, but don't use a penny whistle; let's not sully the memory of John Fenty's chosen song of celebration, whatever key he sang it in. No-one did answer his question: what about the orange?

Congratulations and jubilations, I want the world to know Noel Whelan's had a shot. It's only twenty four minutes from Sleaford, which is how long it took them to shoot. Whelan received the ball thirty five yards out from a throw in and tried a dipping volley. Mildenhall treated it with the respect it deserved, staying awake long enough to catch the ball as it slowly arced into his midriff. Actually it takes longer on a Saturday to get from Sleaford but, David, who'd live in a town like this anyway?

And let's have some more Town oo-la-la-ing shall we? Passing, massing on the right, Bolland punning a cross into the box, Gritton heading weakly to Abbey. It's like a training match, too easy, Town fans a little queasy. We need a second goal, we're gonna need a bigger moat around our castle.

Steve Mildenhall
John McDermott
Justin Whittle
Rob Jones
Gary Croft
Gary Cohen
Paul Bolland
Jean-Paul Kamudimbagoal
Tom Newey
Martin Gritton
Michael Reddyyellow card


Andy Parkinson75 mins
Gary Jones
Terry Barwick
Tony Crane
Simon Ramsden


Graham Salisbury


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See, told you. Joachim suddenly spinning past Jones inside the area on the right. At a narrow angle six yards out Mildenhall ploughed up a few fields and then gathered in his harvest. Town became ragged, Boston pressed, becoming emboldened; Joachim a constant menace, causing more problems than Defoe for Whittle.

Has someone just released a video of Alan Pouton's fifty greatest step-overs? Everyone's at to these days. Noble in name, not in nature, performed the slowest ever step-over. The gears in the jalopy cranked and creaked, the levers twanged, steam puffed from his ears and a tiny whistle blew, like the one on the miniature railway down Cleethorpes sea front. Right foot up, over the ball, down again. Repeat that action.

Town occasionally passed accurately, but as the half wore on they became more showbiz, the simple clip eschewed for the scenery-chewing special guest star appearance. Cohen frequently ignored by the middle men in favour of the curly-wurly dissector for Reddy. Ah, Reddy, trying his party piece back-flick and chase, forgetting they still had defenders on the pitch. Whittle powered a header into Norfolk from a corner, Jones flicked on a free kick. Cohen, unmarked at the far post, glanced a header a foot wide from a Newey corner. Just moments of maybeness, nothing cohesive, concerted or corrosive to the Boston soul.

With a couple of minutes left Boston punted the ball downfield. Joachim ambled after Jones, who, 30 yards out, decided to caress a pass back to Mildenhall. He stumbled and hardly touched the ball, allowing Joachim to run on down the centre. Joachim approached the area, Mildanhall advanced and the little pest cut back to his right foot, just inside the area. As he shot Jones stretched and block-tackled Joachim and the ball upfield about 30 yards.

In added time Whelan became agitated, perhaps annoyed by the marvellous Mariners choir. Noel, it was only figurative, not literal, we're sure you aren't happy. The Evans songs were perhaps a little different, the Courts can decide. What did Whelan do? Firstly he pushed Whittle into the advertising boards after Big J ushered a hopeless punt out for a goal kick. Then, a few seconds later, Whelan trampled all over Whittle and kicked him up the backside as the ball fell. His attempts to laugh it off with Whittle (hey, great new TV concept for SKY one) were even less successful than his first half performance. Our ex-Hullite shrugged him aside with disdain and anger. Whelan had better watch out, he may be sleeping with the fishes if he carries on with that.

Half time: Boston United 0 Grimsby Town 1

Yes, it's over, the first half has ended. A bit of a stroll, Town seemingly in complete control: commanding and comfortable. But at the back of everyone's mind was a little lingering fear. Joachim had been a one-man band, twice almost scoring after lapses from Jones. Town were sitting back and showing off a bit too much, without really creating anything against ten men. All Town's efforts had been from, or derived from, set pieces.

But hey, it's half time, Town were leading against ten men, Newcastle at home next month and Carlisle losing, so we could be four points clear at the top by five o'clock. Whoa-oa-oa, we feel good, didn't we know that we would. So good, so good: hit that sax solo and jive at the Gliderdome.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk

"When do they feed the rabbits?"
"They're going to score a stupid goal."
"If we stayed any longer we'd have had to buy some double glazing."
"It was either family or football. I chose Town."
"There were more Bostonians in Oldrids' restaurant."

The report continues in the Second Half.

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