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26/12 Macclesfield Part 2

By: Tony Butcher
Date: 28/12/2004

WHOOSH. Bang, bang, bang. Ball up in air, clatter, natter, chance. An aimless hump rebounded to McDermott, about 20 yards out on the right.

Home > 2004-2005 Season > Reports > Macclesfield (h)

Grimsby Town 0 Macclesfield Town 0
26 Dec 2004, Coca Cola League 2

Sir Maccalot carefully clipped a cross towards the far post whereupon Gritton, on the edge of the area, beat his marker and looped a gentle header towards the foot of the right-hand post. Wilson scooped without fuss.

Another minute, another long ball, another rebound, another McDermott moment. Briefly free at the corner of the area, he chested down and slapped a shot through the penalty area. It didn't even go out of play, the Silkyboys knocking it back to Town nicely. Shocker! Ball played along the ground. Gritton turned, flicked and the Maccmeister swooshed a left foot drive goalwards. Wilson flung himself low to his left and parried the ball away from the bottom right-hand corner. Parkinson followed up, Wilson got up, and the shot was blocked by the crouching ex-Tiger for a corner.

With all of his strength Parkin gave a mighty shove. As he tried to bully his way through the Town defence, Williams picked the ball up. Mm, he is quite big.

The Orinoco flowed back to the Osmond. Who was it this time? Gritton, low dribbler, saved easily. Sestanovich, swishing, swaying, slicing wide. Parkinson, thumping straight at the 'keeper. Seven minutes, seven Town shots. Always the bridesmaid though.

Oh dear, they should have scored. They ran, Town napped. They crossed, Town flapped. A little orange man burst through on the left. Bull? Hello, is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. A cross, Fleming jumped up, missed ball and everyone turned to look, but it was gone, Williams couldn't put his finger on it as the unmarked Sheron about eight yards out at the far post, steered the ball slowly, slowly, very, very slowly, an inch or two wide of the top left hand corner. The remnants of the Cheshire Light Infantry Regiment down at the Osmond probably didn't realise how close that was. Best not to get their hopes up too high, eh.

Don't worry about them for a while. The game stodged, glumped up in a drossy festering boiled cabbage and brussels sprout slop bucket of gunk. What is this thing we see before us, round, light and jaunty? Ted Bovis? No. A ball. What is passing?

More Town attacking, the randomness of nature played out in football form. Occasional glimpses of Town past, one, two sometimes three passes to friendly faces, or Sestanovich. Ah, S-Stanley, the most ephemeral of presences, stuck in the middle, waiting for the ball that never came, watching the ball zoom overhead. Shards of frozen ice descended from the heavens and he took the opportunity to recreate his Yeovil goal. The bit where he runs forward, not the bit where he scores, of course. After 18 minutes, a typical Transit Stan moment: weaving, roaming, dreaming, droving the Silkmen sheep to market and back. On the edge of the area, on the right, wham! A shot slammed straight at the wobbling Wilson, the ball pinging away off his chest and being swept away by a wave of defenders. Crowe, running, jumping, standing still, crossing. Gritton almost in, Wilson scuttling off his line to punch away. Crowe again, slapping a shot goalwards from the right corner of the area. Wilson blocked with an indeterminate part of his anatomy. Crowe again again, on the same spot, smacking a shot towards the top right hand corner, Wilson parried as Gritton was lurking by the gherkins. And Pinault was in Travis Perkins buying some shelving. Has Billy Bragg just walked into Blundell Park?

Anthony Williams
Justin Whittle
Terrell Forbes
Rob Jones
John McDermott
Terry Fleming
Jason Crowe
Ronnie Bullyellow card
Ashley Sestanovich
Martin Gritton
Andy Parkinson


Michael Reddy72 mins
Stacy Coldicott
Dean Gordon
Colin Cramb
Thomas Pinault


Phil Joslin


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At some point Tipton broke free, pursued by our bear. Sestanovich tracked back and collided with the little tearaway. Down went Tipton, inside the area, Stanley tumbled too. No penalty. Seen them given against us, but not for us since the days of Jack Lester's tumbling dice.

Back to gruel. A pin dropped in Daubney Street. You could almost hear Dean Gordon's ego seethe. If we wanted to sleep it's warmer indoors, you know. The longuer went on longer and longer. Errors a-go-go, Jones slicing a clearance straight to Williams. Backpass? You jest, guest. Bull sloppy, Bull slipping, Bull assaulting Harsley with an awful stamping lunge. Just a booking, you can thank your lucky stars. The referee intercepted a Town clearance, setting up a Macc-attack, streetwalkin' through the Town defence. Whittle woeful, weak, wobbly, wrong. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Tipton and Rodger had a rumble as the ball rolled slowly out of play into the Town dug-out. Rodger stood up, Tipton followed through, some cheap plastic purses were wafted.

In the last minute of the half Town awoke from their slumbers. Gritton turned 25 yards out, drew two defenders to his Celtic toenails and awaited the arrival of the cavalry. Marty G rolled a perfect pass between two defenders for the rampaging Sestanovich, who slightly mis-controlled the ball as he burst into the area, drifting wide as the 'keeper rushed out. Wilson did an Al Jolson impression and Transit Stan lofted the ball way over the bar. Goalkeeper's shouldn't be allowed to look like Papa Lazarou, should they. No wonder fear was in Stan eyes. Is Dave in? Back came Town, Crowe slamming another cross shot at the 'keeper's head, Parkinson thighing the ball too far as he was played through on the left, deep inside the area and rolling his shot into the side-netting.

The half ended, some people booed, most had already started queuing for the toilets. Well, you might as well do something useful.

Half time: Grimsby Town 0 Macclesfield Town 0

Urgh, yuk, Town had been very poor, playing like, well, a team in 17th place in the fourth division. Devoid of creativity, resorting to hoofing clearances it was a game of chance, rather than of chances. Despite all, Town should probably have been two up against a team that wasn't bad, but wasn't frightening, They were bog standard, a team that on a good year would be somewhere near the play offs for a while, on a bad year within crying distance of relegation for a bit. Not good enough to go up, not bad enough to go down, seemingly a one trick pony team. That trick involves a big bloke causing mayhem and the little pixies picking up the pieces. Tipton was a tricksy cove, Sheron a wily wriggler who has a penchant for just missing, but we know that from his eleven thousand previous incarnations.

Why was Jones playing? To counter Parkin, was it? Jones only marked Parkin when great big Jon bothered to wander over to Town's left. He just drifted into the Town area and stayed all alone. But playing Jones has immediate consequences and severe aftershocks, doesn't it.

We'd like some of the good players on the pitch in the second half.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk

"I'm sure I saw Cramb wearing a white puffa jacket in the pie queue"
"I'm wearing my Tony Rees 'tache with pride".
"I hope his nose is the only thing that is battery operated. Or flashes".
"Town, like Christmas, has to be endured rather than enjoyed".
"You can have my ticket for the next game, I'd rather watch frost thaw."

The report continues in the Second Half.

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