Cosmic Jive: Bury Report

Grimsby Town 5 Bury 1
14 Aug 2004, Coca Cola League 2

About 100-150 Buryites appeared in the Osmond Stand to no discernible effect; little sound or vision. They were there, with a big flag to go with their big players. If they weren’t tall they were barrel-chested: conforming to everyone’s stereotype of a fourth division team. It was going to be one of those games, eh?

Town lined up in the 3-4-3 formation, as shown. Gordon played on the left side of the back three, the rest were where they were against Boston. So Town had Flash and Gordon on the left. Oh, come on, you’ve all noticed it, so there’s no point in labouring the comic possibilities. There was nothing remarkable about the warm up, nor anyone’s hair. No pigeons dive-bombed Challinor, though the he was drenched in adjectives and nouns of the most Anglo Saxon of derivations. It was all very normal, the crowd were not overly excited, the crackle of electricity which hummed through Tuesday evening was missing. It’s such a lovely day, let’s sit back and relax.

The scoreboard had difficulty with the Bury team for they had three players with double-barrel surnames: B-Murphy, D-Pringle and W-Challinor, sometimes pronounced Challinor- Booooooooooooooo. How ironic that Leg Smasher Dave has a team-mate called Pringle, or perhaps how worrying for his team mate. Daniel Douglas-Pringle, what a fine name, as is Brian Barry-Murphy. You can’t go wrong with a bit of alliteration, as some proved when double- barrelling Challinor.

Dish of the Day: Macca’s chicken curry caused quite a stir, for the ingredients didn’t include chicken. So that’ll be chickenless curry, ideal for vegetarians and those of an experimental culinary bent.

1st half

I looked to the sky where an elephant’s eye was looking at me from a bubble gum tree. Oh, sorry, that’s just Bury kicking off towards the Pontoon. Whoosh, up, up and away the beautiful balloon disappeared from view, arriving back on earth for a Town goal kick. A minute of hithering and thithering ended when McDermott tackled with his angel feet. The ref erred as we "Huhed", awarding a free kick to the yellow-clad bundlers and trundlers. The ball was whelped down their left and Whittle wobbled underneath it, misjudging the flight and allowing it to bounce behind him. Pursued by a Bury bear he gallimored about before walloping a clearance high down the touchline. Still the ball remained in play before being tipped down the wing again and being shinned out for a throw in, about a dozen yards from the bye-line.

Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Challinor-Boo hurled a long, flat throw into the heart of the Town penalty area. The ball sailed over Whittle, flicked the top of a Bury quiff and drifted across the face of goal. Williams watched as the ball continued on towards Spurn Point, striking the bottom of his left hand post and bouncing along, perhaps behind the line. Williams reached across and flicked the ball up onto the crossbar, and it rebounded out to BARRY-MURPHY, a yard or so out, who walloped it in.

Silence in the studio.

A typical Town goal to concede: scrappy, rubbish, artless dross. And the pattern was set for the next few minutes. Bury had a simple game plan, nothing fancy at all. They just ran around a lot and whacked the ball down the flanks behind the Town defence, forcing a lot of throw ins, and allowing Challinor-Boo to waltz up without a care in the world and chuck the ball in. Result, minor peril, major panic as the ball skimmed off shiny surfaces and snaked off shaky shins. They had a shot, it went over. The Pontoon started to murmur, or was that the after effects of the balti pies?