Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 19 December 2015

Conference Premier

Grimsby Town 1 Amond (90+1 pen)

Dover Athletic 0

Attendance: 4266

The corporate chompers keep falling for the fall guy, the best thing to come out of H-h-h-h-h-h-hull since a tube of toothpaste: young Conor Townsend.

Town won because Townsend tumbled, but Town hadn't already lost because James McKeown was pretty good in pink.

"I'm delighted – it was a big, big result for us and, for me, our best three points of the season."

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"It's not easy to come somewhere like Grimsby, with 4,500 people baying for a home win. But when their keeper is named man of the match, you know you haven't done too bad away from home."

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'Twas a grind, but they kept right on to the end of the grind. A pretty important win if not a pretty performance which leant heavily upon the man in pink, the strawberry saviour.

The midfield was unable to assert any control on the game in the first half, but subtle changes made at half time resulted in the result. Whereas Amond and Bogle had spent the first 45 minutes running towards McKeown, they spent the next 45 on the half-turn, playing horizontally not vertically. A problem solved.

Buried within this performance are the clues to future fretting, for the end of Townsend may be the end of Town this season. There is an awful lot of reliance on the Hessle hustler to make something happen when whatever plan A is hits the rocks. But why worry about the future, it's only just begun.

The Dover school of art tends towards the destructionist movement. It's all about creating through negativity. They kept thems shape by destroying the concept of shape for Town, forcing longer and longer balls, undelivered quicker and quicker.

And out of chaos and confusion they attempted to snatch our purses with purpose and pace. Pests atop and organised crime professionals behind. Until they withered under the grinding pressure, the dynamically dour Doverites were distinctly difficult to play against and watch. Everything impressive about them is about what they stop opponents doing.

Count Orlu and his invisible cape bestrode their defence, having pace, power and perfect reading. Miller was a consistent irritant, consistently buzzing around the legs of Nsiala, which I thought was an obscure Italian film in the giallo genre.

These workaholic ants that gnawed and gnashed are constructed to avoid defeat and nick annoying victories, like Town used to be. Should be near the play–offs, but not quite in the play-offs.

They call us mellow yellowbellies. Quite rightly.

Mr M Salisbury (Lancs)

Ho-ho-ho, merry Christmas, Grimsby Town fans. Santa came early. Most of the mistakes came from his linesman so a cheerful, chirpy 7.222. No need to dwell on matters further.

Solitaire's the only game for Town against the Dover channel ballers.

In a word: cucumbers