Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 21 March 2015

Conference Premier

Grimsby Town 2 Palmer (13), John-Lewis (78)

Eastleigh 1 Turley (90+4)

Attendance: 4034 (51 away fans)

I think it was Oliver Palmer. I'm sorry – after the game I wandered around in a reverie wondering about a wet weekend in Welling.

Well, it wasn't Jolley. There were a dozen shades of adequacy on display. Magnay's moment of Midson mickeyness was the only champagne glass on a table top of tumblers. But poster-boy, the last action hero, is automatically man of the match anyway. So, no-one, but in a good way.

Or, in this case, assistant gaffer.

"I only really look at our results, and we're delighted to get the three points, which were hard-fought. The lads dug in and put in a magnificent effort once again.

"It was a mad last five minutes and we certainly don't seem to like making things easy at the minute, but we got the result."

More on this

Disjointedly positive, mostly. Disturbingly negative, eventually.

Jamie Mack spent the afternoon creosoting his fence until the March madness in added time.

Arnold worked very hard, having one of his better games without the ball, but Jolley was erratic on the east, woefully weak out west. Pittman was switched to off-modem while Palmer tired of strife and tried to do it all by himself. Town matched these sneaky southern bandits shove for shake, tap for slap and easily kept them at bay until the post nut-meg nuttiness.

When the second goal arrived Town retreated, ceded space and allowed the tepid toe-tappers to advance and, hang on, haven't we heard this joke before… what's the punchline?

TMFKAS should have brought on Parslow.

This bunch of buck chasers were a miserable, mundane mixture of muggers, chuggers and hapless bodyhuggers. Weebles wobble but they don't fall down; this lot were feeble floppers when northern breath was breathed.

Tall. Big. Snidey. Slow. They didn't like it up 'em, cap'n. Turley was a pantomime schoolyard bully, forever staring into the eyes and standing in the way of passing monochromers. Constable was just an old man diver, he just keeps rolling along the ground. Pell wore an alice band and had his most effective game for Town to date.

Sure, sure, they had the ball and passed it to each other nicely now and again, but what did they actually, factually do? You don't score many goals by falling over your own shoelaces.

Toothless and dislikable, distinctly unimpressive with a fantastically useless keeper who can't kick, can't punch, what can he do? Not awful, but nowhere near good enough to go up. Chester are better than them. Shouldn't be allowed near the play-offs.

A scarcity of scarfy jollity at the founding of the New Church of Carl the Magnayficent.

Mr A Holmes (W Yorks)

His carrot and carrot approach to classroom discipline was not reciprocated by the players, especially those southern men. He finally remembered what the good FA rule book said and sent off one of them for, if anything, an accumulation of annoyances. Any one of them would do; who cares which one for what. I suppose that's what you'd call a collection of Eastleigh players: an accumulation of annoyances. Ah, this referee chap: weak, easily managed by the experienced players and dominant characters on the pitch: 5.178.

Hapless, hopeless Hampshire hobbledehoys nut-megged and net-mugged.

In a word: enough