Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

1 March 2026

Meadow Lane, the monochrome derby, a grand day out where it always rain and sometimes pours goals. They're flying high and we're flying under the radar, lurking in the undercard of the play-offs. I'll tell you what else is lurking, there's many a pot hole lurking in the puddles, and we thought Lincolnshire roads were bad.

Town lined up in red and blue kit in a 4-2-3-1 formation as follows: Smith, Rodgers, Kacurri, McJannet, Sweeney, Turi, Khouri, Burns, Walker, Vernam and Soonsup-Bell. The substitutes were Warren, Staunton, Oduor, Green, Sellars-Fleming, Kabia and Cook. With half a dozen changes from the wet withering in the West Country there was at least change when they needed rest. The return of the Albanian was noted. We're already feeling safer with our new bouncer. Oh, sorry, that's what we called the big bloke standing outside Tiffany's. Big Mal is our SIA registered event security operative. It may help Countyites to know that if he says you can't come in, you can't come in. He doesn't do words.

County, yabba-dabba-doo. They just look more athletic, even their little players look bigger.

And another thing: why is it that Notts County never manage to get a good-looking kit?

Let's crack on, some people have a train to catch.

1st half – They walk on gilded splinters
Town kicked off away from 1,993 travelling Townites tucked into the side panels on a mizzly drizzly day of drizzle and mizzle. Ain't it always?

County kettled, Town showing their mettle. All roads to Smith blocked. A game of Kabaddi, Pacman shuffling side to side, each team warily eying up the other, looking to gain an edge.

Moments here, moments and hints here and there. An expeditionary force down the Town left swung through their netherlands. Vernam hit the bye-line and pulled a pass into the path of Sweeney, whose stretchy poke-prod was scoofled away from near the line. Retrieved, returned and boofling in the bad lands at the back of their penalty box, Soonsup-Bell a-tumbled upon a deep Nottingham breath and was booked.

Eventually, finally, County penetrated the wall of sound defending. Except they didn't, did they. 'Twas merely a speculative cross that grazed off a Town head and Smith flipped over, and from the corner a local head headered onto the roof of the net.

Maldini dug a trench under the Town support and Grant disappeared into it. Turi swivel-mugged under the noses of the County management. Nice. Tickles and tackles from Town, just tittle-tattle from the Piemen.

Them forever squeeze-boxing, seeking to tempt our full-backs out of position with push-me pull-me piddles, keeping their wingers wide and midfielders seeking to sneak twixt and between. Burns had a nap but Smith swept up as Ndlovu wriggled to a flick on. Turi the sheepdog shepherded balls out of play and the Magpies were slowly going out of their minds, miffed and mystified by lack of goings on.

For all their scientific triangulations all it took for them to have a shot was a good old-fashioned welly upfield. Turi half-headed sideways, Magpies' manoeuvring sniggled the ball to Iorpenda with a clear sight of the goal. Smith knows where to stand, Smith knows how to catch a football. Smith knows. We know Smith. He knows you know, he's got experience.

Town? Well, there's a suggestion of possibilities of something happening, now and then, sometimes, with infiltrations on the left and a series crosses to the near post, always low, always cut out, never a Townite in sight. Burns was wingled into their penalty area and….I shall be kind and point you towards a rather interesting cloud formation over Trent Bridge.

As the cuppa-soups approached, a final Town fling as Walker picked a pocket or two and Soonsup-Bell's sweep shot was blocked by a big black boot.

As one minute was added, Turi was too cool for his shirt. Disrobed in the centre circle, he professionally dealt with the matter in a neutral zone and was booked for some unrequested emergency repair to a County shirt. And Jones carefully steered over.

And that's over with, we are halfway to paradise. Just remember to keep your fingers in the dyke.

2nd half – Bang!
County replaced Grant and Kouhyar with Dennis the Menace and Harald Hardrada.

We need to laugh, and now the sun is out, we've got something we can laugh about. So we'll start with a whistle and start with a bang. Oof! From the off a hoof and Maldini flew over and through Ndlovu. Yes, we've got some in, we've got some out, we've got some wild things floating about on the wings.

A touch and tickle, Vernam flickled to Khouri who whittled to Sweeney, whose shot was blocked. Walker stepped over and Rodgers simply knocked. The Caledonian Thistle whistled a whooshing swinger from dead centre, 20 yards out and Belshaw, who many believe to have been hired to be the Notts County goalkeeper but had previously only been a theoretical concept, leapt and ladled the ball over from under the bar. Vernam swung in the corner, Rodgers sneaked into the Green Zone afore the front post, grazed on and maybe was as amazed as us when the custardian spectacularly claw-pawed away.

Ah, a little tweak and in they sneaked, for the Magpies metronome has been fixed. Rodgers was booked for impeding the Magpie Multiball machinations with some off-field obstruction. Tick, tock, tick, tock, first to the left, back to the right, twist and turn until they get it right. A brief moment of respite and back they come, a cross from their right and Maldini slid across at the near post as Ndlovu's half flick from behind bumbled across the face of goal, past the far post and tantalisingly past the outer limits of the furthest Countymen.

Thrusts and parries, Townites harried, in and out as the Midland Monochromers probed the outer perimeter whilst digging tunnels under the wire and lobbing mortars into the camp. In from the right through stretching toes of many colours, over from the left as a long ball was flicked on and Smith's furtherest fingertips flicked. The stretching Iorpenda flew into the net, the ball flew into the advertising hoardings.

Oh, you'd like to know about Town? Occasional almostness, almost getting over the half way line, mostly stodging with the wrong option not even taken.

And another shot and another and another, all straight at Smith, forever punching, clutching, swiping, flying left. Jones swingled. Smith unruffled. Pressure piling, inning and outing, a block popped and Jones waheyed wide. Outing and inning, a block by unblack socks, a block again and Smith was perfectly placed to scoop. You are Notts County, you are going to fail, it's almost predictable.

Oh no, he's hurt!

Oh no, he's not.

With Smith receiving some TLC there was a little Town huddle and some trouser adjustments as Kabia replaced Soonsup-Bell and Green replaced Walker.

There, there, that's better. The finger is back in the dyke.

With the waters held back Town decided to wander off into the fields, just to see what's going off out there. Rodgers raided and rolled a cross-pass into the corridor of uncertainty. Kabia at the near post gave a sigh not a slide, conjuring up some instant karma. Mmm, karma moves in two directions. If we act virtuously, the seed we plant will result in happiness. Another cross from the left was knock-kneed by a Nottsman after a smidgeon of Smithery. I'm happy, hope you're happy too.

And then a door slid open for Town to step into another land where the breeze and the trees and flowers were blue. We heard the trumpets blow and a card turned red when Smith's punt hit Burns on the back. Rodgers and Ndlovu were at right angles, equidistant from a bouncing ball. One arrived earlier than the other and over Rodgers tumbled.

The referee sucked his thumb and wondered. He'd never done good things, he'd never done bad things, but now he did something out of the blue. A saxophone someplace far off played and Notts County felt betrayed. Blame it on a simple twist of fate as Ndlovu was sent off.

Now we're cooking, we're lethal against ten men remember; it's the secret of our success.

A Sweeney shot was blocked after jinking and jiving. Moments of Mariner almostness became moments of actualness all to a rising chorus calling for the introduction of the Cookie Monster. And, with seven minutes left, here he comes, giving us a treat, he's getting the funniest looks from every Magpie he meets. But we're too busy singing to notice every County frown.

Smothering and smashing to smithereens, a Magpie mugged and Khouri caressed a looper out to the unmarked Slim Charles, a-hugging the touchline right underneath the Town support. A rising roar rolled down from the stands as the Wolds Panther missed his moment to pass to the overlapping Sweeney, swayed infield and swung past one then two monochromers. And the rest is history as Vernam vernamed a carefully caressed curl lowly through the thicket of Countery into the bottom left corner.

That's what he does. Sometimes that's the only thing he does, but at least he does it. Will that do? What are they going to do about it? There is no wind but they're still going to throw caution to it.

Eight minutes were added as, amidst a cacophony of home whinging about Town taking their time to see the sights of the Big City, Khouri and Vernam were replaced by Oduor and Staunton. Yes, at last, the New Parslow, The Kenyan Closer, appears. Double glazing is amazing, don't we all agree?

A yellow to a moaning Magpie, another yellow as Dennis proclaimed a startled innocence as, with a wounded look upon his face, Maldini held his chin. Oduor block-tackled on the halfway line and County had a throw-in. Marvellous, The Closer closed down. That's what he's here for and he did it. He touched the ball and touched our hearts with this game-winning intervention, somewhere or other not near anything. D'ye Ken Clarke Oduor? Our statistics prove it.

Helter skelter, this way and that, County all out, Town ready for the fall out. A clearance clobbered, Cook slow-coached towards goal, turning himself inside out. A last local leg pegged him out and Kabia chased the rebound way out west. Shoved over, the penalty ignored. Well, we've already redeemed our club card points today.

They went this way, we went that way. A serve and volley, a drop shot and lob. Green whacked and the ball deflected off a home back and spun past the angle of post and bar. Staunton's dripping corner drimbled tantalisingly, teasingly, and the trip on the merry-go-round sneezed and wheezed on. Whack and roll, whack-a-mole defending as County piled on the mortars. A corner, a cross, a clog dance or two. A corner coiled, McDonald arose afar and Smith magnificently adjusted his balance, flew left and power washed away.

And still they come. An up and under at a corner and Belshaw lurking, double, double, toil and trouble, and in the tenth minute a final rocket repelled out to the Town right. Burns fell in the corner as he felt the hand of history on his shoulder. With no more Magpie rockets left we have lift off.

Phew. What a scorcher in the end. With the weather turning at half time we see the point of Charlie, who took the opportunity to surf, once, today. County were both complacent and urgent, silky and steely, timid and tough, but they never got the balance right between facts and fictions, just like the referee.

It wasn't particularly pretty, but it was pretty effective as an away day 'job' was done. All pre-fabricated plans perfectly performed, with the pre-fab four in defence sowing the seeds to let the good times roll again.