Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Paul Ketchley

11 October 2015

Braintree Town 0 Grimsby Town 0

If you've never been to Braintree it's best not to break the habit of a lifetime. Get round the back to the tradesman's entrance if you're an away supporter. There's a big poster on the gate with lots of small print telling you that we don't want any flares, and that fireworks are most definitely banned. No fireworks or flares up here. It said it all.

The knot of day-glo orange-clad stewards glowered at me by the turnstiles and eyed the bulge in my jacket pocket suspiciously. Was it a flare being smuggled in, they might have thought, but nobody got out of glowering mode to inquire and find out that it was a camera. The stewards all seemed to be rejects from a previous existence, with Gillingham badges on their jackets, and were sponsored by KRBS, which makes me resolve never to bank with or borrow from the Kent Reliance Building Society.

Inside the ground Doig led the Town players in the usual warm-up around the cones. Gowling's leg was covered in strips of that tape athletes wear to show they're injured and Bogle had heavy strapping on his thigh. It was a routine run-through of the normal routine. Some of the Town players were only vaguely interested.

To break the monotony a bunch of day-glo orange-coated stewards bustled down the side of stands clutching a walkie-talkie and glowering intently. They made their way around to the back of the goal and picked out one of the Town fans and took him back to the main stand. He protested loudly, very loudly, and the older guy with him (wearing a Town jacket) told him forcefully to quieten down and be co-operative. Then, standing right by the turnstiles, the guy was seemingly made to strip off down to his underpants. Presumably someone looking at a CCTV monitor thought he had a flare-sized bulge under his clothing.

Ladies in the seats nearby covered their eyes with their hands in that way which enables them to see everything through the gaps between their fingers. After a couple of minutes of consultation over the walkie-talkie, plus a bit of further humiliation and defiance, he was allowed to get dressed again and go back to where he had been standing. Several of the ladies in the seats kept an eye on him, partly out of their caring side of course, but maybe in case he took his shirt off again (he did) or they could see the evidence which made someone think he had a hidden flare.

So the pre-match was quite eventful and entertaining if you like that sort of thing, and we all paid for that in what was to follow. Doesn't sound inspiring does it? Well, it wasn't.

First half

Town lined up playing 4-4-2 with McKeown; East, Pearson, Gowling, Robertson; Arnold, Disley, Clay, Monkhouse; Tomlinson and Bogle. "I think Tomlinson will score today," declared the lady who hadn't covered her eyes during the strip show. Yeah, right.

Braintree kicked off incompetently and gave the ball to Bogle. It tells you a lot about them that this is a side who can't even manage the kick-off in a decent way.

The first half was spent with Town dominating the first two thirds of the pitch and Braintree trying to hit them on the break. We played like we assumed that if we knocked the ball about around the halfway line then we'd inevitably win because we had dominated possession. But someone had forgotten that no amount of square passing on the halfway line is going to get you on to the scoresheet.

"Come on Town, push up," pleaded one voice, but it was far too unambitious and unco-ordinated. These days McKeown has this little routine where he kicks or throws out to Monkhouse on the left for him to knock it down or pass to a team-mate. But nobody looked for Monkhouse's nod-downs, which all went into empty spaces, and all too often when he got the ball on the ground, Monkhouse looked up for someone to pass to but there was no-one available.

Humberside police were urged to "sort it out" by Town fans who felt they had been subject to heavy-handed stewarding. Shortly afterwards the stewards retreated and things started to calm down

There were a couple of decent moments with a Clay stepover and a couple of free kicks from Arnold which the Braintree wall headed over for a corner, but nothing that forced the Braintree goalkeeper to make a save.

Braintree offered little, but obviously have got where they have by hitting opponents on the break. You can see why they do so well away from home. After 10 minutes Braintree's left-back Sam Habergham got away and put over a dangerous cross, and shortly after that McKeown was forced into a spectacular flying save.

Since there were no fireworks on the pitch the stewards decided to ignite the crowd a bit, who were showing far more co-ordination and effort in singing and chanting than either of the teams in playing (particularly ours). They went in and stood in a group facing the Town supporters on the standing terrace. In my day this was called "looking for trouble" usually in the hope of finding it, and tempers were clearly rising.

Fortunately at this point the Humberside Police contingent arrived, looking stern-faced, to provide some common sense and reason. They ran into some vociferous Town fans who clearly felt they had been subject to heavy-handed stewarding and were urged to "sort it out". Shortly afterwards the stewards retreated behind the fence and things started to calm down. You can tell where all the action was, can't you?

After 40 minutes Gowling decided enough was enough and, feeling his hamstring, gingerly walked off to be replaced by Toto. At the same time Robertson started to feel his left leg and decided he'd had enough too. There was consternation on the bench that two defenders wanted to come off at the same time and he was told to go down on the ground and stay there until a substitute could be made ready, and so down he went until Tait was available to replace him.

This all took a good five minutes, after which the officials couldn't seem to remember the script. Where were we before all this happened? What's supposed to be happening next? After some prompting by the crowd they remembered their lines. Act 1, scene 17, line 6 and it's a throw-in to the boys in stripes.

Anyway, it was all getting terribly fractious and Tomlinson decided to get himself on the record by flattening one of the Braintree defenders right in front of the referee. It was a wild and unnecessary display of frustration and unsurprisingly he got a yellow card. Like the Town fan pulled out by the stewards, he felt obliged to protest but with far less reason. It also gave Braintree a free kick in a dangerous position just before half time. But like all their attacks, it came to nothing. They were generally pretty rubbish, even more rubbish than us.

And so the first half came to an end. Unremarkable, uninteresting, unexceptional, uninspiring and above all unenterprising.

Half time

You think most of the action was off the pitch? How right you are! And it continued that way.

As the players trooped off at half time, so Chairman Fenty marched down to the Town end, accompanied by some sharp-suited and sharp-haircutted acolytes, to speak to the fans outside the toilets.

You remember how the prefects at school all had smarter ties than the rest of us and the Head Boy had two red rings on the sleeve of his smart blazer, don't you? It was just like that. The Head Boy and some of the prefects in suits came down to tell it how it is to the scruffs from 3C outside the bogs. Ten minutes were spent calming things down and (presumably) promising more sensible crowd control arrangements in the second half.

Stu's half-time toilet talk

"Bogle's playing today – it'll suit him – more like grassroots football"
"Is their number 8 Craig Disley in disguise?"
"Who'd want to play for Braintree when only this number of home fans can be bothered to turn out to watch the game?"
"I've had enough of this already. You think I'm kidding? I'm off to watch the rugby, I'll see you after the match"

Second half

The players came back and the tannoy announced the attendance of 1394 with 578 away fans. Well, if there were 816 home supporters you could have fooled me, because they must have included the stewards, the Essex police, the guys managing the car park and the people hanging round the bus stop across the road. Maybe everyone in the seats counted as being a home supporter because they got those numbers wrong too.

This time Town kicked off and straight away Braintree showed their ineptitude by bringing down Bogle to concede a free kick in the centre circle. They could do with Tony's coaching manual on how to kick off. Town at least showed some sense of urgency, not least because Richard Tait had come on and started to show intent, energy and purpose at right-back.

So early on Clay made a shot on goal which forced the keeper into a save (note to self to record this as a highlight). This promised much and Town were now attacking the goal at the end where the Town fans kept up a continual roar of encouragement.

Meantime Bogle had lost the plot. He was like one of the lost boys in Peter Pan wandering around the Never Never Land which was the Braintree half, looking forlorn and disconnected from the rest of the world. Mostly the places he wandered around or stood in were offside positions. When he found himself on the end of a decent ball from Tomlinson, he was inevitably offside. He tried to put it in the back of the net anyway. He missed. That was his afternoon.

When Clay played a neat through ball to Bogle, he hesitated for that vital moment. Then he realised that it was meant for him, and that he was, for once, onside. He got his mind in gear and remembered he should run for the ball. Even as he moved off it was too late as the keeper gathered.

Finally Bogle got the ball on the right touchline and tried a crossfield ball to the left side. It went nowhere near anyone in a Town shirt and directly out of play for a Braintree throw.

Town were still bundling along, still thinking that the law of percentages must be on their side. If we make more passes than them we're bound to win, and if we make so many hopeful punts forward then eventually Bogle will be on the end of one of them and he won't be offside and he will put it away. Yeah, right.

The only energy and purpose came from Richard Tait, who kept making things happen on the right, bursting through to make a cross and generally putting himself about to good effect. He made lots of half chances, but none were taken. It's easy to blame the pitch, but all in all Town were simply too goal-shy to score.

With 15 minutes to go Town readied a substitute. Everyone secretly prayed that Amond would come on for Bogle, but instead the gazelle-like figure of Marcus Marshall was there replacing Nathan Arnold.

Marshall did OK, but still the main man on the right was Tait, who kept getting into good positions and making decent crosses. Finally, in the 88th minute, Tait again got down the right, cut back, and put a decent left-footed cross. It connected onto Disley's head, only for the ball to come back off the bar. It was the closest we came to scoring in the match. "Y'know," said the man sitting next to me, "if that had gone in you'd have said that this was our season."

But it didn't. And, on that showing, it isn't going to be. On the way out there was dismay and pessimism. "That," said someone, "was the first time I've seen us play this season, and on that display we've got no chance of winning the league."

Even if we do get to the play-offs, can you see us winning with this lack of intent, energy and teamwork?

"Can you see us even getting promoted if we play like that?" I asked him.

"No – I can't," he replied.

"Me neither," I said.

Some optimist told us that we were bound to make the play-offs. Yeah, right.

So let's say that Forest Green do win the league, and if they don't then they ought to make the play-offs. Then you've got Cheltenham – who are going well and might win it if FGR don't – and Tranmere, and Wrexham (who have got Gary Mills, remember and they're bound to be in the mix). Then you always get one of those new sides like Eastleigh who always get to the play-offs. Maybe this year it will be Dover or Bromley. And even if we do get to the play-offs, against any four of those six can you see us winning with this lack of intent, energy and teamwork? Don't answer that because it's too depressing to contemplate.

The really depressing thing is that this is my 60th season watching Town, and my first match in 1956 was when my Dad took me to see us win Division Three (North) by beating Bradford City 2-0. Anniversaries are meaningless in football aren't they?