Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Tuesday 9 September 2014

Conference Premier

Lincoln City 3 Burrow (8), Newton (57 pen), Bencherif (88)

Grimsby Town 2 Disley (43), Pittman (59)

Attendance: 5209 (1765 away fans)

Ooh, I dunno, it was all so fast and furious. Choose one of Neilson or Brown, depending on your attitude to Scousers and Cockernees. Perhaps a half bottle of Isotonic Lucozade each, that’s nice. It definitely wasn’t one of the defenders.

A bit of a mess in the first half, in control in the second, but with a defence full of accidents and somnambulists throughout. The formation played into Lincoln’s hands, ceding space and time on the wings, allowing them to boom their big balls. And when Town attacked, well, who was there in the penalty box?

McKeown was a nervous wreck from the start, flipping and flapping whenever big balls boomed in. He looked surprised by the air raids. Bignot and Toto, unfortunately not a comedy cop duo from the late 1980s, but a bit dim and lazy in our defence. Nsiala plays like he believes he’s from Jamaica.

Poor old Lennie: he’d really fit in to that Lincoln team perfectly.

You want the good bits? Brown and Neilson ran rings round them, but when you’re passing to Lennie you can’t expect to score. Here was every reason why Town won’t get promoted.

They never change, but this lot are just a better version of their recent dross. Up and unders, long throws, set pieces and all round ping-pong vigourball are their raison d’etre, their mot juste, their modus operandi. Slow it down, keep it on the ground and these new Impies were mid-table misfts.

They seem to have a better keeper than usual.

It’s all about pace, power and passion for our county cousins. Be happy for them, it’s nice for them to not lose now and again. We’ll always have the invisible hand of Nathan Pond.

They’ll be in that gaggle of gloomy gloop that’ll finish somewhere between 8th and 14th. Genuine contenders for aspirations to finish closer to the play-offs than relegation this time.

We had the numbers, we had the volume, we had a lot of anorak-based nonsense.

Mr D England (S Yorks)

He wasn’t overly kind towards the boys in blue for, if in doubt, the doubt went redwards. The penalties weren’t worth wasting a moan on, and he was at least being consistent in allowing both keepers to be flattened at will.

But of course it is all his fault, this is football and there are natural laws to adhere to: 5.899. Booo, you cathedralphilic nerk, you piscatorially adverse fool!

Boom, boom, bang-bang, we're jammin', they're slammin', we're heading off to Toys-R-Us.

In a word: pinball