Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 1 May 2010

Division 4

Grimsby Town 2 Atkinson (59), Hudson (90+3)

Barnet 0

Attendance: 7033

Lost in a swirling blanket of human joy, it could have been anyone.

Men did what they had to. Widdowson had another flashback and remembered how to defend, having a gripping encounter with Adomah and placing Uncle Albert in an iron mask. Colgan made a series of decent parries, pushes, kicks and plunges: important saves which were in the nebulous grey zone of being saves he should make, but were nonetheless excellently done. The Hud was supremely Dobbinesque with a soupçon of Grovesian thrusting, while Ak-de-Ak was enigmatically swanky in his serenity. But for stopping them and starting us off, it's Cap'n Bob. Robert Atkinson, the blond Bob magnificently nullifying Furlong and brilliantly playing hookie.

"Six weeks ago we would have just accepted taking it to the final game of the season and still be in with a shout. Now we are more than in with a shout."

"I don't think the result was unfair and I congratulate Grimsby. Their fans made it a gladiatorial ring out there, baying for blood, and that was the big thing that made the difference on the day. "I thought both teams nullified each other in the first half but at the start of the second, we were on top. Their keeper made some very good saves but the referee denied us a stonewall penalty when Paul Furlong was categorically dragged to the ground. They scored soon after and it looked onside to me. I always thought we could get a goal and nick the draw we needed but then they got a second on the break."

Short passing, fast winging, with a little powdery puffing and huffing; luckily these Bumbling Bees didn't sting. If Rochdale are only there for the hair then Town are doomed, for Barnet's wingers in particular can fleece the unwary holidaymaker with tales of Greek timeshares and surprisingly priced golfing equipment just around the corner. They were not terrible, surprisingly calm and patient, but a little emotionally brittle in defence. They are the sort of team that excels when in the lead, but implodes when losing. It's all in their mind. Barnet: better than Cheltenham, but then who isn't?

You could sense the occasion just driving into the town. At the very, very, very last moment the crowd came, conquering their inner demons, and was the wave upon which the players surfed to the beach. The antithesis of the Torquay torment, the ground buzzed, fizzed and crackled like a poorly maintained electrical sub-station.

Mr N Miller (Co Durham)
A man determined not give any decision that smacked of bravery, he avoided all penalty incidents and let play go on and on and on. To the monochrome eye he was far too free in giving Barnet groupies 'access all areas' backstage passes. It was our party, and we'll cry at the ref if we want to. Typical Miller, typical Miller score: 5.001.

Come closer, oh sultry mistress of fate, I have a tempting cupcake.