Dead Loss: Mansfield Report

Mansfield 2 Grimsby Town 0
02 Apr 2005, Coca Cola League 2

The Field Mill of dreams gleaming, the seats devoid of local bottoms. They have built it; they haven't come.

Town lined up in a 4:4:2 formation, as shown. Wot No Downey? Yes, we have no banana on the bench today. Do you think young Glen is a professional seatwarmer? I must remember to look out for him at the next BAFTAs. Oh yes, the starting eleven, same as on Monday, everyone in the same wonky positions. Fleming on the wing, oh.

Mansfield dropped da kids and put bundling Barker and deadlegs Larkin up front, with a couple of nippy, tricksy wingers in Brown and Rundle. Ah, so they're going to have a go. Still think they could reach the play-offs? Perhaps Carlton Palmer has watched Escape to Victory one too many times. "Listen lads we can still do this". Their right back was Buxton the bulky bruiser, as wide as he was high; Parkinson would need an A-Z to get around Mansfield.

We have crazy legs, they have dead legs. And the season is on its last legs.

1st half

Sorry you missed it, the game started two minutes ago. The referee just couldn't wait to get home. Town had kicked off towards the slumbering Staggers fans, with a few seconds of head tennis and British bulldogs in the playground. Free kick to Mansfield; Coldicott nudged when he should have nurdled.

Ooh, there's a surprise, a Town shot! Gritton, near the right corner of the Mansfield area, flicked on a Crowe chip. Harrold glided upon the canal, waiting for someone to throw some breadcrumbs his way. The ball dropped about eight yards out, he opened his body and steered a first time volley across goal, high and wide. A sort of 4/9th's chance, brief, almost, not.

During all this hullaballoo Fleming went off for some treatment, or perhaps he wanted to change his sunglasses to something with a little more pizzazz. He came back, Macca filled him in on what he'd missed. A Pinaultian shrug explained all.

One lump or two? Mansfield thrusting forward with direct passes to the hustlers upfront, Town lobbing towards Gritton. Shall we cut out the middlemen completely and shove this burger straight down the toilet. Let's not bother tackling, eh? Crowe watching, Brown dibbling a cross to the far post. Hung high, headed back in to the middle of the six-yards box, where Whittle cleared for a corner as Williams observed discretely from behind an old oak tree.

Five minutes gone, a pulse has been found and the patient is resting.

It's ok, you won't miss anything, you can go to the loo or trim your azaleas, but don't mow your lawn just yet. Wait for the dew to burn off first.