Cod Almighty | Match Report
by Tony Butcher
3 October 2021
Grimsby Town 6 Dover Athletic 0
The sun is on holiday, falling leaves from the trees the grey skies weep while a cold north wind blows. What better way to pass the time than in our House of Fun. Welcome to the lion's den you stray Doverites.
It's all getting rather weird.
Town lined up in a 4-4-2 formation as follows McKeown, Sears, Waterfall, Towler, Crookes, Bapaga, Fox, Hunt, Clifton, Taylor and McAtee. The substitutes were Pearson, Revan, Coke, John-Lewis and Sousa. Sears, have you seen his ears? And those huge thighs. With Sousa defenestrated by evil Ravens we have Bapaga the feather bopper hopping around on the right. Here's hoping his hopping will be topping the bill tonight.
Them, them down there. We don't need a crystal ball to see right through the haze, purple Dover do know they're going down not up. Poor old Dover, so far, far away with a ground up in the clouds and no-one wants you to be near.
It's wet, but it ain't Bromley wet.
First half – Slaughterhouse Five
Town kicked off towards the monochromed Osmond and the 25 Dover souls huddled together around a campfire singing Kumbaya in the corner. At least we give them a roof.
Purple passing, mauve movement. Blimey, they're trying. Crikey, they're crossing. Fox in our box, blocking a bloke's poke. Didn't we just send our bloke Spokes to Boston? We surely did. Oi, stop distracting, we're acting funny, don't know why. A tick, a tack and flying at the near post Bentley volley-steered a corner crawlingly over the bar. C'mon, concentrate.
Townites hunting in packs, tackling each other, getting in bother with 15 minutes of tame tosh.
Ah, that's better. Passing the time, everything's fine. Hunt shunted and punted, a corner, lost in the haze of soft middle age. The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high for Ransom. A punt skipped down the middle, Taylor flicked on and spun around a member of the purple gang. Our handy lad took a trip around the creepy Crawley loanee and much baying in the bayou as only a yellow card was wafted for the heinous hauling on the halfway line.
Roused and riled Townites piled in. Nicking, knacking, smokestack and lightning. A purple corner cleared halfly, but out of reach is out of touch. Hunt swayed between two loafers on the edge of the Town area, and danced away down the centre. McAtee waved his wand and Clifton clattered into the penalty area and into the side netting.
A head back and hassle in the shadow of the Police Box with a full court press. Old rotting Wood tapped back, Bapaga lurked and collided with Parkes's shin. And garlands were strewn across the earth as the gladiator entered, hailed by all. McAtee passed down the centre left, Parkes shinned away.
Well that wasn't in the script when we did the read through this morning. This will not do.
Oh I just don't know where to begin. Rocking, rolling, Dover trolling. Striped swipes, the fruit is getting ripe, you don't believe the hype? It's a-comin'. Bapaga swung, purple socks knocked and the house rocked. Well, a Town corner, we all know what happens next. I saw the thing comin' out of the sky. It had the one long horn, and one big eye. Hunt clipped, Waterfall ducked and glanced, the ball arced beautifully into the bottom left corner of the net, and the crowd sang beautifully in the top left-hand corner of the Pontoon.
Whoops. A dainty dink from their right and two stray purple people managed to miss: as one ducked the other mucked up a free header.
Roaming in the gloaming, there's room in the gloom and Dover are doomed. You can feel it in the air, the wind is taking it everywhere, yeah. McAtee meandered and wibbled from afar as Parkes waved as the ball wobbled over bar. Can you feel it? Can you feel it? Can you feel it?
A tackle, a tickle and many a mickle makes a muckle. Taylor teased, Taylor flicked and let's follow McAtee down his amazing maze in the haze, through Ransom, through Collinge, around Parkes and tapping into the emptied net. It's party time.
Dover down, deeper and down and out. Purple implosions in space, Town looking for adventure, not boring, but wild. Racing with wind Bapaga found two legs to fall over for penalty number two. Taylor strode forward and crumpled low and left below the keeper's fingertips into the side of the net.
You know the score, we've seen it all before – c'mon Town it's four to draw.
With jingle bells and fairy tales and blind colliding scopes Fox trotted, Fox flashed wide from far. A free kick pumped, anyone for head tennis, ole, ole, ole. Through all the pain and strife woeful Wood turned his back and Bapagas's gone so fast. Oh yeah.
Up Town, down Town, Little Harry drives them wild with his run-around style. Dancing, glancing, passing into the penalty box. McAtee swinging, missing, grinning as Bapaga chested down and crinkled low, double nut-megging some knitwear into the bottom left corner.
Two minutes were added to their despair.
McAtee sprung his heels, river-dancing all along the watchtowers in the Frozen Horsebeer Stand. He looked up and purred a perfect pass with the outside of his right boot towards the penalty spot. Taylor slid into the corridor of certainty and steered in as the distraught Parkes turned around with his head in his hands. The ball hit the net and there endeth the lesson.
You know, Town could get a point out of this.
Where do you start, where do you finish? Is there need to paint this wagon? Let's let the ruthless motions speak for themselves.
Second half – If this isn't nice, what is?
Drais replaced Da Costa for Dover at half time. Well, there we are.
Them. In a bit, out a bit and Town unshaken all about. We didn't get where we are today by looking a gift horse in the bush.
For Dover it's over, it's over, it's over. They won't be seeing rainbows anymore.
We're cool with this ambling, even if it's getting colder. No need to get excited. So let us stop talkin' falsely now the hour's getting late.
Float, float on. Float on, float on.
Hi, his name is Alex and he's a Gemini. Hunt curled a free kick satisfyingly close to the angle of post and bar. Which post, which bar? The right post for young Mr Parkes, who hadn't lost his spark.
Floating down through the clouds memories come rushing up to meet me now. They did have a shot at some point, you know. Jamie Mack ostentatiously flung himself rightwards as a long scuffler shuffled safely down the street. You can relax on both sides of the tracks.
Hi, his name is Will and he's a Scorpio. A minor incursion as Bapaga infiltrated and Hunt side-swept across the face of goal.
It's important to avoid clichés like the plague.
After 20 minutes of shoegazing McAtee and Taylor were replaced by Sousa and John-Lewis. Surely, surely Lennie will get the chance to miss an open goal! That's what the great entertainer is here for, after all. He didn't get where he is today by wearing underpants decorated with Beethoven.
A rare purple move towards the Pontoon. A corner, McKeown plucked and chucked, Sousa ran away, away, ran away, away, ran away and a corner to Town. Hi, his name is Luke and he's a Leo. Repeat action, Hunt clipped, Waterfall arose and thundered down and back into the left side of the net. He's now in credit, he's paid off his debts from the Pied Piper's year.
We didn't get where we are today without recognising Success City Arizona when we see it.
Well now, he's the one that's got that beat, he's the winger with the flyin' feet: Be-bop-a-Sousa he's our baby now. McKeown rolled, Sousa rocked on from the Town penalty area. Here he goes: up the middle, down the right, through one, round two, inside three, over four round and round and round again to wibble a wobble over while unmarked stripes awaited. It was majestic, it was magnificent, it was a minor moment as Dover drowned in our sea of tranquillity.
With less than 10 minutes left Coke replaced the hobbling Fox and immediately headed a Doverite. Dave Moore stood and stared, Coke arose with a bandage around his bonce. Four minutes were added. That is all you need to know.
Wow. What's going on? It feels like heaven.