Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 21 August 2010

Conference Premier

Grimsby Town 1 Connell (90)

Hayes & Yeading United 2 Hand (19), Pritchard (69)

Attendance: 3405 (27 away fans)

We have absolutely no idea why, and neither did he. Perhaps he was nearest the buffet tray.

None of the starters were beyond adequate, with Eagle the foremost of the unmundane. So who could it possibly be? Is there one? There is, for 46 minutes swinging down the street so fancy free, hey there, it has to be Charlie. Boy does he vroom with vim.

No idea. We've not heard a dicky bird out of Woodsy since final whistle.

"Hopefully, we've shown a few people today that we may be a small club, but little Hayes can play football as well. We prepared properly, stayed overnight, and had Grimsby watched on Tuesday so we knew how they'd play. And you don't come to a place like Grimsby and expect to be anything other than up against it in front of a big support."

The size of a team's support is no indication of their ability. Quality and quantity are two different things. Hearsay & Yodelling plonked their charabanc down on some common land and cracked open a case of beer after some outstanding shooting by their blue leaders. They were as organised as York, as motivated and intense as York, but unlike York had footballers who were frequently capable of passing the ball to each other. They were nothing to be scared of, but had nothing to ridicule. Just as York did, they placed an experienced and wily operator in front of their back four to pick, lock and load: Jamie Hand ran the game. Their wingers were quick and direct, which caused Ridley in particular problems, and the rest were professionally adequate. They had a plan, they succeeded. It wasn't pretty but thanks to Town's determination to avoid scoring, it was pretty effective. They played like a team up for the cup and determined not to lose 5-0. They benefitted from some woodwork-based fortune, but it would be childishly introspective to attribute the defeat entirely to Town's collective shortcomings. They looked like a team that could be overrun if they conceded early, a sort of Macclesfield of the Conference.

There was a sagging, musty duvet of expectant complacency over the crowd, which quickly turned to brattish squeaks and squawks when Mummy didn't give 'em an ice cream. So they squeamed and squeamed and squeamed.

Mr B Khatib (Tyne & Wear)
Spent half an hour being determined not to be a 'big team' referee, then he realised that Town were the small ones being picked on by those big boys, so eventually gave us a few free kicks. He couldn't see handballs and was wonky and wobbly in applying the various laws of the game. He was consistent with what we've seen so far, perhaps slightly ropier than the York referee, so 5.222: nothing mad, though a lot of small bads.

Lipsmackin' Thirstquenchin' Acetastin' Motivatin' Goodbuzzin' Cooltalkin' Highwalkin' Fastlivin' Evergivin' Coolfizzin'... Charlie Ademeno.