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Newey: First Goal
Newey: First Goal

11/11 Macclesfield Part 2

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 13/11/2005

AT last, a Town attack worth prodding you with. Reddy reddied down the left, twirling away from his marker and heading for the highway, looking for adventure near the corner flag.

Home > 2005-2006 Season > Reports > Macclesfield (h)

Grimsby Town 3 Macclesfield Town 1
11 Nov 2005, Coca Cola League 2

He looked up, saw Cohen in the penalty area and Jones in the vague area of Blundell Park and curled an inswinging cross through the six yards box.

The ball sailed over Cohen’s beads and safely out for a goal kick. A few minutes later Town got a corner; Newey swung low and Cohen rode his chariot into the middle of the box and noddled a glancing header wide. Not worth an "ooh", merely a ripplette of encouragement. Good corner mind - must have been all that practice last Saturday.

At some point the Lumpster, beyond the far post, headed softly straight at Fettis the lettuce, exposing a certain flimsiness in their defence. Town were beginning to find a beat, a simple but polite slow handclap, like at a Daniel O’Donnell concert. Bolland fetched, Toner carried: it was getting better.

If you’re getting a bit bored, just jump to the left, and then to the right. You can do the timewarp straight to some goals.

And they had another shot that drivelled low to Mildenhall, who again clutched the ball to his body with not the merest suggestion that it would bounce out. It’s lovely having a keeper you trust to, well, keep. Now all we want is for the rest of ‘em to habitually keep the ball. Oh Justin, third time unlucky, tempted into a clump downfield.

Around the twenty minute mark Town suddenly upped the pace. Cohen shingled through a tackle or two and was blocked on the edge of the area, with the ball trundling to Jones, in an inside right position. He bundled along a couple of paces and bumped a couple of placemats out of the way. From a narrow angle about ten yards out he thwacked a low shot across Fettis, across the face of goal and a few inches wide of the right-hand post as Reddy lurked but didn’t lunge. From the goal-kick Town regained possession and Reddy zazoomed down the centre left. Fettis came out and Reddy knocked it away from goal. Fettis ran back whilst the Redster calmly controlled the ball near the bye-line, turned infield and dribbled goalwards. With three Town players pleading for a pass Reddy’s shot hit a defender and bounded out. Fettis ran after the ball, Reddy saw his opportunity and fell over the plunging keeper a little too obviously.

Still, it gave an opportunity to the grizzlers to focus upon the referee, rather than their favourite faulty goods. The club shop really should market a series of "My Little Scapeponies" for the purpler Town fans: instead of kits in the car window have a foam-faced Tom Newey preparing to waste a corner. Or perhaps a tiny rubber Andy Parkinson that squeaks when you press it’s head down? They’d need to drive a 4x4 for their Gary Jones voodoo doll, with added suction. Or what about a Justin Whittle pencil sharpener? Christmas, like a Town pass, is round the next corner.

Town were pressing and passing, how pleasing. Cohen was doing winger-y type things, the ball ricocheting out to Parkinson 15 yards out on the left. What a fine volleyed pass that was, not a mis-hit shot at all.

Steve Mildenhall
John McDermott
Justin Whittle
Simon Ramsden
Tom Neweygoal
Gary Cohengoal
Paul Bolland
Ciaran Toner
Andy Parkinson
Gary Jonesgoal
Michael Reddy

Calvin Andrew81 mins
Gary Croft
Martin Gritton
Terry Barwick
Glen Downey

Eddie Ilderton
(Tyne & Wear)

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Bibbling, bobbling, rebounding to Jones, unmarked a dozen yards out, the ball ballooned off his chest towards goal. Fettis froze, waiting for the music to start again. The ball bounced once, Jones shaped to volley and the shot cannoned off somebody or something causing crowd pandemonium that the stewards couldn’t be bothered to control inside their penalty area. "Oooh" indeed. Another minute, another Cohen surge down the right, across the face of the penalty box. A fleeting glimpse of goal and a fantastic block by one of their central defenders, making full use of all the material in his shorts.

How did Town keep getting inside their penalty area? Well, Jeremy, it goes like this: Mildenhall caught the fish, Bolland skinned the fish, Toner cooked the fish. The forwards were responsible for the sauce, but they couldn’t quite remember how much lemon juice to use. You see, the ingredients were there, the dish was being prepared, but not quite finished. Fresh food, cooked on the day: so much better than the processed turkey twizzlers served up in the canteen recently.

A Newey free kick, curled straight into Fettis’ midriff. He didn’t have to move a millimetre, such precision in passing.

After half an hour Macclesfield took off a full-back. Whilst they fiddled about Bullock pretended to take a throw in, then dropped the ball and walked off: the referee booked him for time-wasting. Then we waited a minute or two before the substitute came one. Rising from the bench a creature emerged, obscuring the view of the hobgoblins in the Main Stand. They gasped in awe. Who is this man? Big Jon Parkin, the big Mac, their supersize lump rumbled on to the pitch. Macclesfield reverted to a 4-4-2 formation and Town creaked.

The game suddenly changed from a strollathon to a fearathon. Parkin was immense, in every respect. Ramsden was the first to be despatched to deal with the ogre of Moss Rose with just a bag of apples and a small stick. Parkin ate the apples - whole - and snapped stick with his steely grin. Town were sliced and diced; Big Jon just drifted into the Town box and stayed all alone, flicking to Wijnhard, who squished a volley into the ground and straight at Mildenhall. Can we have our ball back please?

Oof! Parkin slabbered a first time shot just wide of the right-hand post Now that’s what I call striking. He turned, he saw, he bunkered all in one movement. Perhaps our Lump should observe how a top-notch lump goes about his business.

Harsley flickered a shot straight at Mildenhall and Whitaker bundled about in the centre of the area after some minor panicking caused by Parkin. Send for the wheelclampers? Hey, that gag’s got whiskers on it. C’mon Town, either sign him, or kick him, but don’t let the big Mac lad do what he wants. Or as they call him in the pages of Paris Soir: "Le Big Mac". Would that make Wijnhard a Royale with cheese?

With five minutes left Ramsden collected the ball a few yards outside the Town penalty area. Eschewing the hoof he surveyed the scene, concluding this was a really poor area for luxury housing developments. He rolled the ball upfield ten yards to Parkinson, who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the pitch. Parky turned and dribbled upfield to the half way line, before tapping the ball aside to Macca. Parky continued his run and received the ball back, again dribbling forward. The Macclesfield defence was sucked infield and Parkinson tickled the ball out Toner, who was about fifteen or so yards out on the right. Toner took one touch and curled a superb cross beyond the far post to one of three awaiting Townites. JONES THE LUMP rose up from the gutter and we saw only stars as he thundered a powerful header across and high over Fettis.

From the kick off Macclesfield plucked town’s feathers and made us shriek, a near post cross shinned away as Parkin lurked. Phew, got away with that

"We are top of the league, say we ....... were top of the league".

A long ball was played up from inside their half to Parkin, about 25 yards out. With his back to goal he thrice whirled around Ramsden, casing the mullet to shrink. Newey stood still and watched as big bad Jon thrust Ramsden aside and was alone, in the middle of the "D". The ball bounced one and PARKIN swaggered a right-foot volley that dipped over and away from the leaping Mildenhall and into the top left-hand corner. A fantastic strike but some ropey collective defending. With Parkin six times the size of Ramsden you’d have thought someone would have helped him out, just in case.

The first half apologised and asked if it could have a little rest: the referee obliged.

Half time: Grimsby Town 1 Macclesfield Town 1

There, there, that wasn’t too bad was it. Not great, but better than recently and at least Town tried to play association football. It was a bit painful to watch them reinvent their own wheels, but just a little fine tuning, like playing Jones upfront with Reddy, was making a difference. Macclesfield were OK to start with, perhaps a bit flimsy, but as soon as Parkin came on they became dangerous and actually quite good.

Grade B+ for effort but only C+ for attainment: improving, but can do better. Must concentrate more in class to reach full potential.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk

"Are you too posh to flush?"
"So, is Jones our 20 goals a season man?"
"That sounds like California fusion cooking."
"I’m trying to find something to complain about, but can’t"
"Why’s Joe Brown in the Pontoon, and where’s his brothers?"

The report continues in the Second Half.

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