Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Sunday 24 March 2013

FA Trophy (F)

Wrexham 1 Thornton (82 pen)

Grimsby Town 1 Cook (71)

Attendance: 35266

The corporate snoozers got it so very wrong by opting for the Wrexman on a sweptback dreadlock holiday, Chris Westwood. Apart from his hair, we never noticed him.

Colbeck worked so very hard in covering Hatton's bald patch, while Pearson and Disley were staunch guardians of Town's scorched middle earth. But, as in our last Wembley wail, head and shoulders, feet and fingers above the crowd we have to hand it to the keeper of the fame: James McKeown. In extra time particularly he was utterly and completely, totally and emotionally magnificent.

He came on to the pitch when everyone else had already played a full game, and still he was slower, diffident, and downright uninterested. He couldn't be bothered, and we can't be bothered with him any more. Go away now Richard Brodie, with your pathetic tears at missing an irrelevant penalty. Your existence in black and white caused the monochrome machine to rust.

You're not our favourite waste of time.

"I said to the players we're proud of their efforts and desire... We couldn't fault their attitude and workrate but if I'm honest then we needed to be better on the ball. We're looking a little bit jaded at the moment. There's no getting away from the fact that some of our quality players aren't playing as well as they were two months ago."

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"We were meant to practice [penalties] yesterday but it was so cold we just went straight back to the changing room and forgot about it."

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One shot on target. Barely an offensive force, Town were reliant, as usual, on mostly solid defending and opponents missing when the solids sublimated under pressure. And Jamie Mack's expandable arms and expanding reputation for making the incredible credible and edible. This is just normal.

Mad Frankie gave as good as he got, while Colbeck was a tireless mop for Tyreman Sam, the man with the sweetest right foot on his body. They were admirably committed and, if it hadn't been so cold, many hats would have been removed in recognition of their effort. Ditto Cook, who embarrassed That Loanee with his snarling, raking chasing deep into extra time as the Wasting One stood still and watched.

What Town did well was done without the ball; with the ball it was a different story. The goal was the only moment of connection, crispness, verve or intent. Jolly good it was too, but ten seconds in two hours ain't much. A shot, a shot, Fenty's kingdom for a shot! Town are shot and shorn of confidence, and were worn out as Wrexham tore into them after Cieslewicz arrived.

Neat and tidy, pinky and perky until they got into the penalty area, the Red Wreckers dominated without creating much until the boy arrived. Their defence looked like a deflatable balloon, but Town never chased it down the corridors.

Town allowed them to pitter and patter up to the edge of the area. And the Redmen were duly patient in pinging, teasing out space and time, but... but... but stuttered, snatched and scratched when the tide was high.

They just repeated their December performance; unfortunately Town didn't. They never looked like missing their penalties. They have nerve.

Passive observing by the passing part-timers. Like the players, the crowd weren't buzzing, just fussing over the return journey and the price of beer.

Mr J Moss (W Yorks)

What a sensible chap he was for the most part, especially in simply calming everyone down when The Diz ploughed the field and scattered Dean Keates upon the ground. Other than The Dizzerman's tractor trial, this man in black continuously and disgracefully failed to make incorrect decisions. That will not do, these Football League referees coming over here and not making fools of themselves. Pah. We demand a rematch.

What made up number could he get other than 8.3690? It's also his home telephone number.

Town paid the penalty charge for parking the bus in the red zone.