Question of the Week
Will Paul Hurst stay at Grimsby?
|Newey: First Goal|
11/11 Macclesfield Part 2
By: Tony Butcher
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.
Grimsby Town 3 Macclesfield Town 1
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 couldnâ€™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 couldnâ€™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 Fettisâ€™ midriff. He didnâ€™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 thatâ€™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 gagâ€™s got whiskers on it. Câ€™mon Town, either sign him, or kick him, but donâ€™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 townâ€™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 youâ€™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 wasnâ€™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?"
The report continues in the Second Half.
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