Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Tuesday 29 January 2013

FA Trophy (QF)

Grimsby Town 3 Devitt (8), Cook (75), Marshall (78)

Luton Town 0

Attendance: 2971 (75 away fans)

First half: Passing the time Town kicked off towards the Osmond. Things happened, but not in front of the children. A Townite felled, a free kick, wide left. Devitt curled, the wind swirled, Brill unfurled and the ball nestled snugly in the bottom corner.

Luton kept passing out: pass the smelling salts. Ah, passing out of play. So that's how you beat Ponceyship teams.

Cook, be-bandaged in full Robocop mode and in full flow. He's Lutonite kryptonite. Nice save: Bradley fingertipping over with his face. O'Donnell flashed a free kick, a Town leg flicked a kick but Jamie Mack did know. Our perfect stopper marvellously swayed left and parried. That's their moment, apart from the other moment. You know, a cross, cleared near orange socks.

Nice trip Aswad. Fleetwood's fleet feet flummoxed the referee.

And in between these isolated moments of isolated tangerine dreaming, there was simply Town, simply passing and preening. Ooh, an Aswad slapper, slipped aside by the less than brilliant Brill. Thanoj the mystery machine, moomintrolling down right at the keeper from afar. Town's midfield twosome nicking and knocking, calming and clamping, controlling the traffic with a white hat and whistle.

Is Marshall playing for them?

Second half: Discarded orange peel
Neither team made any changes at half time.

All Town, all Town, all Grimsby Town. The transitory Bedford flans collapsed into a ditch, suspension broken, tyres deflated. The tow truck will be round later.

Devitt dancing, Marshall meandering, Robocook enforcing da law. Disley roaming, Thanoj in the gloaming. That was near that was, an orange leg dangling away from the lurking Pearson. Mendy missed a volley. Sounds like a kids' book.

All Town, don't worry, something's happening and it's happening right now. Disley roared, a tangy hand diverted, Devitt steadied and lofted over. Passing, passing, Hannah bedraggling. Passing, passing, Robocook be-smackering against the crossbar.

And on came Brodie. He's moving, he's running, he's... trying. He looks like a footballer. A turn, a twist, a marvellous tumble. Cook bullied a thwackering free kick through the invisible wall and invisible keeper into the visible net.

Colbeck on, Colbeck crossing, Marshall calmly billiard-balled in off a stray orange thigh. Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh.

Town, lovely, laughing, dancing in the street. Brodie terrorised the little mites like he's supposed to. Snoogling lowly from the edge of the area, Brill brilliantly battering away.

You don't need to know more than the accumulated score. It's 7-1 and counting, our little Luton friends. Mmm, that reminds us of a tie long, long ago.

It's hard not to smile. Don't fight it, let it hang out there.

A new favourite for the fish and chip supper brigade: Andy Cook, a monster monster masher of midland mediocrities.

Thanoj had a superb first half, adding steel to his intrinsic silkiness. The defence was robustly tender throughout, with Miller's unobtrusive intelligence sweeping up minor moments of madness, and sweeping up the imaginary post-match laurels and champagne.

"We were pleased with all of them, from one to 11 -€“ they were all excellent. Each and every player out-battled, outclassed and outplayed their direct opponents and that showed in the final scoreline."

"I think at 1-0 we were well in the game. [Andy Cook] has blasted the free kick, it has took a slight deflection and it has gone in, so at 2-0 that is game on."

Hey, nothing wrong, if you overlook Marshall's weird Luton-like performance for an hour. When he remembered he'd signed for us, all was right again. As has become the norm, any individual error results in another showcase for team-mates' excellence. Thanoj and Disley looked a purringly complete unit, as solid and sweet as Miller and Pearson behind them. Cook and Hannah blended together beautifully and even Brodie ran around, at pace, and did things that we on Earth recognise as competent. He gave a 20-minute cameo of excellence, like the player we'd never seen, but always been promised. Perhaps he saw a chance to shine to get that dream move to Luton. Town: a team.

Were worse than they were in October. They were not a co-ordinated collective, just a mish-mash of egos, tumblers and fumblers. They had no defence, a wobbly keeper and a pair of frilly knickers in attack. The weakest lump of Lutonites we've encountered this side of the millennium. Let them continue to believe the hype.

Relaxed and tanned on a typical Tuesday in January. Feel the love.

Mr R Whitton (Essex)

What a splendid chap, seeing no fault in any Townite, especially in our own penalty area. He's positively aching for 8.543.

What do you think of it so far? Marvellous.