Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 8 February 2014

Conference Premier

Grimsby Town 0

Southport 0

Attendance: 3306

It feIt like there was a big void in Ukrainian lugeing, so the corporate creepers filled it with Jamal Fyfield.

Are you tired of having your crosses cut out by full-backs, and the inevitable heart attacks that come with watching Joe Colbeck? Then call Mr Drain at Cleethorpes 5-4321. Call now and receive a free T-shirt!

That name again, Mr Drain. Easy. Alex Rodman was Town’s only competent threat.

Much worse than last week as an offensive unit. In fact they were quite offensive as a unit. Only Rodman had anything about him, with the strikers just rotten. John-Lewis was utterly hopeless, incapable of anything and an extremely effective third centre-back for Southport, sweeping up in front of himself with some fine clearances and interceptions. It was a surprise that Southport took him off.

Kerr was inconsistent, Disley barely present and Neilson simply chubby. Pearson turned into a blancmange but the rest of the defence was OK. Town didn't cope well with that highly unusual event in the east of England: a bit of wind.

Narky nibblers and a variant on the stereotype of relegation battlers. Once Brodie was removed they were far more professional and adequate, and even threatened to score. In Brown and Nsiala they had two of the game's three dominant characters: Brown controlled the middle of the pitch with constant scuttling and shuffling, scooting and hooting passes. Nsiala was impassable and their keeper proved capable of making saves when the ball hit his hands.

They may even stay up if they get rid of Brodie pronto. They, like everyone else, are better off without him.

The wind doth swirl and the lips did curl.

Mr A Holmes (W Yorks)

Suffered slightly from the inverse big team syndrome that refs have in this league. He had his chances but he blew it: he could have sent off Brodie before the early strategic removal. Not helped by woeful linesmen, with one of them who believed that for a ball to be out of play the whole of the ball must be on the pitch. That doesn't make sense! Exactly.

Oh, the ref in numbers: 6.0001.

Boo, hiss, boo. Hiss, boo, hiss. Miss, miss, miss. What a mess.

In a word: howling