Cod Almighty | Match Report
by Tony Butcher
18 August 2018
Grimsby Town 1 Lincoln City 1
Wouldn't it be nice to get on with our neighbours.
A lazy Saturday afternoon and we've got a mind to worry as the Big Imps roll up in grizzle town. It's hot, it's humid and the whole ground is humming.
Town lined up in 4-1-4-1 formation as follows: McKeown, Davis, Whitmore, Collins, Famewo, Welsh, Woolford, Clifton, Heesenthaler, Hooper and Cook. The substitutes were Russell, Dixon, Vernam, Wright, A Rose, Robles and Thomas. Woolford was on the right and Clifton the centre right. Surely that can't be right? It is, and Town had four centre-halves across the back.
Lincoln, broad in beam and full of beans, turned up in camouflage, a two-tone grey ninja kit to go with their ninja warfare. What happens next? We walk to our seats in fear of the unknown.
First half: Urge for offal
The Greymen kicked off towards a pumping Pontoon with a hoof into the pre-ordained space where Akinde was headed and aiming to head the ball. Heads. Heads. Heads. And here's a tale. Davis stood on the ball and Andrade wibbled over. Or did he wobble over? Does it matter, do you care?
Mud was wrestled, hands were tied, shoulders were barged. Boyeson stood on a burning deck and saw no trips. You can hook but you better not touch Akinde.
Bishing, boshing, and a bunch of grey toshing. Welsh underhit a cross-field pass. Andrade wobbled over. Or did he wibble wide?
Famewo stood on the ball. Greymen goosed over, or wide, or against some stout red sockage. What are these but moments, merely isolated moments taken out of context. Lincoln were nothing, did nothing, but were strutting when Town's short game and putting let them down.
Antsy McCartan was booked for legging up Little Harry, then let off when hitting the deck, diving inside the Town penalty area. Or was it Dec who jumped like an ant. Weak puns and woeful word play, well that's Danny's Boys for you.
Fiendish flashes of football. Dinks, dunks, and direct running from The Hess. A shortened corner, a Tobelerone touch, a walnut whipped, and Little Harry's shot was blocked. Cook blanched their vegetables, Hooper barely stretched his pants as the ball dinkled through their six-yard box.
Town, sneaking closer to the edge as the daytrippers licked their ice cream.
Town's trident tricked and treated from left to right. Davis swerved on and curved a pass deep into the heart of greyness. Cook fended of disinterest and flicked back in to the D. Woolford rolled around the periphery and swept lowly through the density and into the bottom left corner. Hey now, what's that sound? For what it's worth, a sonic boom rolled out into the periphery of Cleethorpes, rattling windows in Humberston, dislodging a china cup in Waltham and a small child fell off a swing in Sidney Park.
Slamming and slapping, the three amigos in the middle mashed Lincolnshire's finest potatoes.
The potato people? Well, potatoes do make chips. They dumped their rubbish in our backyards, resorting to type. Bigging, bogging, hogging official attention with winging and whinging. Boof, woof, a dog end of drossery. Akinde grazed on a hoof, Andrade slithered sloppily into the Pontoon from far too near.
One minute was added. The Hess dealt with it.
What were we scared of?
Second half: Witness for the prosecution
Neither team made any changes at half time.
A muddle in the middle and AntorDec danced away to muffle nothingly at McKeown from Middle Rasen. Pfft.
Vibrant and vivacious, with vim and verve, Town swerved through the dreary detritus from down the road. Throbbing and bobbing, jinking and jiving, Wolfman drifted through ghosts with a mazy, mesmering meander to the bye-line. Vickers stood tall and blocked. In and out, over and through, up and down we go again and again.
Grey feet, grey knees, grey backsides blocked as Lincolnites were shocked by the thrill of our new Town. Hess and the Harrys hopped around, Hooper arose and a-plonked a header widely. Town trickery, and a shot deflected off unknowing greyness, spinning wide as Vickers hoped for some football fortune. The boy was lucky today.
One-touch triangles under the Police Box, Impites imperiled as The Hess sauntered to the bye-line, looked up and passed across the face of goal, three yards out. Vickers plunged and missed, Hooper stood and watched the ball go by amidst grey confusion. A corner coiled deeply and Collins rose above all. Vickers watched the ball go by as Akinde, all alone by the near post, noodled off the line.
Danny Boy fiddled with his sticks but Town's music played on.
A moment here, a moment there, nothing to write home about, nothing to get hung about. Hints of grey appearing on the fringes.
Buzziness and business, Town insects were repelled as Lincolnites began the process of moving home. Clifton upended a scuttling grey squirrel in the middle of nowhere. Out came the yellow card. The free kick was dunked and dropped into the Town penalty area. A devious duck from Akinde and Collins sailed over the rolling back, landing dangerously.
A whistle blew. Play stopped. A free kick to Town, obvs.
Ah, we're forgetting one thing: there's an idiot abroad and so the ground was full of sound a fury as the man with the whistle pointed spotsward.
Akinde waited as Jamie Mack danced along his line, pointing low and left. We knew this moment would arrive, for standing six foot six and weighing 245 Big John, great Big John placed the ball low and just beyond the fingertips of the left-leaning McKeown. Yes, Boyeson equalized for Lincoln. Ah, that's what we were scared of.
Big-balling from the big boys and a last ditch tackle at a scramble deep, deep inside the Town area after a Big John flick on. Well, he can just flick off back down the A46.
Vernam replaced Little Harry and spun around to drivel into the Pontoon. Thomas replaced Cook. Thomas looked one of those strikers that other teams have with a little bit of everything. Not too much, but possibly just enough for our tastes. Add flashings and dashings down the left and we end up with Hooper sweeping micrometers around Vickers' right post.
Four minutes were added. Four minutes ended. No fuss, no problems, just time ticking away.
We feared the force, but we had nothing to fear but fear alone. And the return of the creature from the Hull Lagoon. Town had the better of this and Lincoln only avoided defeat because of the choices made by an egregious egotist.
Town were, overall, jolly excellent, like an upgrade on April's artisans. The base is there for Jolley's Grand Design, now let's go and put the roof on before the bad weather comes.