Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 6 October 2012

Conference Premier

Grimsby Town 0

Dartford 2 Champion, Birchall

Attendance: 4009

What a pixiesh sense of humour the scampi scoffers have. Shaun Pearson? Only when I laugh.

If you had to choose because otherwise a shadowy international criminal gang with comedy mittel Europa accents led by a debonair chap looking suspiciously like a classically trained thespian would create havoc in downtown Cleethorpes, then Bradley Wood for his brazen bulldog charge at Mr Burns. No-one had anything other than occasional moments. Fantasy and reality did not meet in Happyville.

"There was no communication and it was just all over the place at times, which is disappointing, because of how well we have been playing."

"We took the game to Grimsby. When we scored it gave us the belief to win the game. Our play and our support was excellent."

This was a grand return to those long gone days of chore, like three weeks ago. When Plan A fails, bring on Plan A-, the same but worse. The opposition have seen the new tractor and worked out how to stop it. Lucky that Luton and Gateshead were caught unawares and unprepared, eh. These Thames Lurkers had watched and learned, for Neilson and Colbeck were negated easily through blue swamping, and Town had no ideas beyond hitting the same dud nail on its broken head. Defensively Town were a mess after conceding, a complacent rag-tag reliant on others to do the dirty work. Aswad, in particular, was having far too many day-dreams of swanky Albanian hotels. Offensively, there was nothing. Corners and free-kicks were generally dollied into the unmolested keeper's waiting hands and there was no zinging and zipping. In the end Town hoofed it down the middle for Elding to not head on to Southwell, who wasn't there anyway. This was a pretty normal performance, but with some defensive arrogance thrown in just to make sure the play-offs remain a theoretical possibility rather than probability.

Exceedingly admirable. They were organised, disciplined, intelligent and physically sturdy. In a word: professional. They played with a promotion bounce, passing in triangles when necessary, thudding and crunching when required. Solid in defence, slippery on the counter-attack, they deserved everything they got from this trip to the Hollywood Boulevard of broken dreams. It wasn't about individuals, it was all about the collective. The Dartford chuggabugs were a well-constructed machine that never stopped working, never dropping the hassle 'em, hassle 'em approach that knocked the preening peacocks of Blundell Park from their DIY throne. The Kentish Men were cute and without clutter, not frightening but very efficient. With a fair wind and unfair financial backing they'll go near the play-offs at this rate. They did what they did well, a no-frills airline you can rely on.

It's the grand return of the childish groaners and road clearers.

Mr B Toner
Warning, change Toner cartridge now. An early aversion to Town morphed seamlessly into a complete aversion to bookings as The Thin Man embarked on his own variation of the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment. He should have given Town a penalty for the Thomas takedown, and Dartford one for the Bradley bash. Even-handed in his drudging averageness: 5.99991

No win, no fee for Anthony Elding.

No owl hats, no win for the fee-paying public.