12/04 Blackpool Part 2

Grimsby Town 0 Blackpool 2
12 Apr 2004, Nationwide League Division 2

It was almost walking, non-contact football when they attacked, for Town didn’t tackle, but stood a couple of yards off and waited for Sheron to run offside. Thankfully there are some people you can rely upon to do the decent thing. Somewhere, sometime Crowe almost gave away a goal, when he attempted to clear a cross from the Blackpool left which lazily lollopped to the far post. Under no pressure, without a fluorescent flan flinger near, he cushion volleyed the ball across the face of goal for Fettis to fly-hack clear. Bored, Crowe decided to run in front of Fettis and charge down the kick. Minor peril averted by the Giant Gnome’s rather desperate swish away for a throw in.

What next? Well, nothing for about 10 minutes. Warhurst made some interesting movements and little passes, but he was wasting his time, for the French Mansaram had become the French Rowan. Ah, Rowan. Rankin doesn’t like Rowan, according to the matchday programme. Aaaaahh, sorry, that’s rowing. Ranking doesn’t like rowing. On the 20 minute mark Jevons did a lovely little waltzing stepover drag back, to glide towards goal from the edge of the penalty area. Past one, past two, he drivelled a shot low and comfortably wide of the ‘keeper’s left hand post. A couple of minutes later Blackpool bored Town into a stupor. They passed, passed and passed again, sideways, upfield, down field, back to the middle. Donnelly tugging and taunting with feints and floppings. Suddenly, he surged forward down their centre left, knocking the ball up to Murphy, who flicked it back and peeled away into a space between Ford and Crane. Insert the word static in front of their names. Bolder failed to mark Donnelly, to tackle Donnelly or to track him as he ran into the centre, about 25 yards out before tippling the ball to his left. The unmarked MURPHY took a couple of strides and placed the ball low across Fettis into the bottom left hand corner of the net. They barely celebrated, it didn’t mean a thing to them, just a nice goal in a kick-a-bout. It was an exhibition goal scored by the Blackpool Globetrotters.

The reaction of the Town players? Shoulders slumped a bit, but they reacted like it was normal. Well, it is, isn’t it. Of the outfield players only Edwards, Coldicott. Anderson, Jevons and, to a certain extent, Crane and Warhurst were somewhere on the sliding scale between acceptable and adequate. The rest not. Jevons tried and tried and tried, but sooner or later we all knew the ball would end up with either Bolder, who seemed to be doing a very slow barn dance across the pitch, or the curiosity that is Antoine-Curier. He brings great joy to many watchers of the sky, but none who support Town. Around the half hour mark Town had an effort on goal that was worth describing. The only one all afternoon, so savour it, wrap it in tissue paper, place it in cotton wool inside a very large box. You can show it to your grandchildren as the wind blows back your hair in the cold November air that is Grimsby in July. Jevons, who else these day eh, received a short corner, twiddled, fiddled and flashed a dinking, dipping cross-shot which skimmed Warhurst’s forehead. Barnes instinctively protected his face by flapping the ball down, but straight to one of the centre backs, as Antoine-Curier observed from a hide using some cheap binoculars.

A few minutes later Blackpool set up another one of their rinky-dinky little computer game moves down the Town left. Flip, clip, slip, a player free behind the defence, way out at a narrow angle. Who ever it was, I shall call him Murphy, smackerooned a whizzing shot across Fettis, who parried spectacularly across the face of goal to another advancing orangista. Hey Mr Tangerine Man, score a goal for Steve? No, Ford headed the shot away from the edge of the six yards box as Edwards fell over Fettis. The Hull hobbler punched the resulting corner away and some big beefy Blackpuddian levered the ball way over the bar. I don’t remember Blackpool getting inside the Town penalty area again. They didn’t need to.

"I thought Richie Wellens died in a plane crash with the Big Bopper".
"...and he doesn’t even speak Swedish".
"We’re on the brink of a new era. If only".
"We aren’t us anymore".
"Don’t worry - we're a yoyo team, just on a really long string"