League Two Form Guide
Question of the Week
Do you support Cleethorpes Town?
28/12 Lincoln Part 2
By: Tony Butcher
ALL this sounds like they had pressure, chances, cohesion. Donâ€™t fool yourself: just two moments when their lumpings nearly caused some discomfort. Oh, there they go again, one of their lanky centre-backs thwacking a shot to Mild-in-tightâ€™s near post.
Grimsby Town 3 Lincoln City 0
A quick glance at the tatty map and, with a rusty shovel in his back pocket, our hero dispatched two more pirates with a yo-ho-ho. Inside the area, eight yards out, REDDY levered a left-foot shot goal wards, the ball lolloping into the top left-hand corner off Marriottâ€™s forearm. He flits from box to box just like a butterfly, eagerly pursuing all the latest fads and trends - like scoring.
Lincoln did not improve. Asamoah twinkled his toes but never threatened to expose. He must be the anodyne one. The other striker was...was... who was he Ethel? A name came up on the scoreboard - Brown. Big Keef should have known - a gentleman never wears brown in Town. Was he playing? I thought he was a defender? Did they have eleven players? Oh look, another shot. Anodyne cut in from the left and softly curdled the ball into Mild-In-Tights arms.
On the half hour Cohen was subject to some push-me, pull-me, with the ref seeing no evil, but hearing some evil words from the multitude. Cohen rose from the turf, chased after his assailant and subtly legged him up in full flight. A booking followed, and not at the Theatre Royal, Lincoln for his one man show - Travels with my Pants.
Did they have another shot? Yes, typically scruffled and lacking in devilment. Stifle that yawn at the back, itâ€™s only another long throw. Open the podbay doors HAL, Jones the Lean can snaffle those truffles all day, and all of the night. For you completists and towel-straighteners Matthew Bloomer replaced hobbling Lee Beevers after 33 minutes of the association football challenge match. Hobbling Lee Beevers: is he a noisy swamp bluesman?
Ooh, it were pleasantly lovelyful, the dark days of derby misery flung like a snow ball into the Osmond. Town players blossomed into masters of flickery: one-touch back-heels and step-overs a-go-go. Reddy chased the ball into the corner twixt Findus/Smiths/Stones and Pontoon, espied Marriott off his line and, from the touchline, tried a lob volley. The ball brushed against a Big Mac and canoodled into Marriottâ€™s chest. Still, nice try. Corners, crosses, Lincoln still dossers in the underpass: last yearâ€™s kings reduced to grovelling in the rubbish bins. No time for gloating, itâ€™s Town time again.
With a couple of minutes left a dozen policemen went to the toilet, and Town won yet another corner. Newey floated the ball in to the centre of the area and Jones the Lean roared a header goalwards. Marriott, on the goal-line, saw the ball late and instinctively flung his right arm up, diverting the ball onto the face of the crossbar, it rolling slowly on the woodwork and out for another corner. Newey again flung it high towards the centre and a defender nodded it out to the edge of the area. Parky challenged, then stood back as the ball bumbled towards the left of the area. A Town player challenged the clearance and the ball rolled back out towards Parky about twenty five yards out, just right of centre. PARKINSON watched and waited for the ball, fine-tuned his radio telescope and thwanged a right-footed curler around the giant red-striped trees in front of him towards the top left-hand corner. Marriott set off early to avoid the rush hour traffic, but still failed as the ball smooched in off the inside of the post.
Half time: Grimsby Town 3 Lincoln City 0
What a perfect pitch, what a perfectly pitched performance. What a hoot.
Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk
"No matter how many times you look it wonâ€™t turn into a chicken."
The report continues in the Second Half.
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