Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Tuesday 9 April 2013

Conference Premier

Dartford 1 Evans (26)

Grimsby Town 2 Cook (79), Thomas (88)

Attendance: 1201

Marianthi's mini match report
You can tell I am a n00b from miles away because I always set off to Town matches with a huge grin on my face and a heart ready to burst. I don't often moan when I watch a match either – I just sit there with my hands covering my eyes or munching on my fingernails and thinking about why I am doing this to myself. I find it hard to be cynical because I don't get chance to go to many matches, so I rarely ever consider the context when I am there. Tables? Play-offs? Other teams' results? I'm just happy to be standing out in the cold listening to casual racist remarks and half-hearted attempts at cheering the team on.

Princes Park is the poshest ground I've ever been to. It has wood panelling, a sedum roof blanket, ponds collecting rain water for recycling. The chips are ever so slightly undercooked like what posh people do. We watch the Mariners come out and play a very typical game for about 15 minutes and someone behind me whispers: "Almost like football, this." Cook, John-Lewis and Taylor are trying hard, bless them, and even the shop song is getting an airing without the complaints.

It's the linesman we are not happy about: three or four terrible decisions in a row costing Town valuable possession and seemingly leading to a couple of chances for Dartford. Although the midfield looks strong and determined, the Mariners are looking disorganised up front and for a little while they are even reluctant to touch the ball. You never know, you see. You never know.

So Dartford score, of course they score, Lovely Sam Hatton makes an incredible save, and Colbeck (I think it was Colbeck) takes The Worst Corner Ever and so the first half ends in a cloud of mild fatalistic resentment and awful jokes about Dartford's keeper's surname.

During half time, most of our party are out having a fag while I am finding myself trying to half-apologetically explain what I am doing there. Within minutes of the crowd gathering around us again, we realise that we're now in the Dartford end, so we leg it to the other side of the ground to join the Mariners fans again. Don't tell me you wouldn't miss this sort of thing if Grimsby were to join the Football League again. It's brilliant.

Something happens in the second half. Naylor, Artus, Thomas, Cook – all fighting for the ball with a renewed vigour. And as I quickly check the #GTFC tag on Twitter, it occurs to me that either the people around me must be watching a different game or those who are tweeting are not here. Because all I can hear around me are now optimistic cries of COME ON TOWN! The ball is being passed, kept, worked on in ways I haven't seen Town doing in a very long time and it does feel like the goal is coming. Then it doesn't. Then it does again. THE FRUSTRATION!

But the excitement, too, surely. Town haven't given up and seem to be making intelligent strategic decisions. Cooky is tremendous over and over again and the rest of team are looking out for him. Dartford get the odd chance but now this is Town's game. And when the equaliser comes we all shout for Cook and it's wonderful but not surprising and everyone moves on quickly. Southwell and Colbeck both give it a good go to no avail but now we are expecting stuff. 

There are absolutely no comments from anyone – don't think I've seen a terrace be so quiet when their team are not losing 5-0. Our eyes are at the clock and on the favourable Forest Green score and when Thomas scores a goal pretty identical to the first one, we explode. Well, I explode. I have no recollection of the event because I exploded. I am writing this from space. It was incredible! Except for that bit a few minutes later when Colbeck pushed Green in the face.

I, for one, will always remember the moment when something happened and we were in the play-offs. Especially considering this time last week itwasnevergoingtohappen and thisshiphadsailed and sackshortyandshouty costheyhavelostit and OH! WEMBERLEEEY!

Up the Mariners. I'm not coming down from this; not until I absolutely have to.