Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

7 April 2015

Alfreton Town 0 Grimsby Town 2

Barnet ruined my Blueyburger. So Macclesfield away on the Thursday then. As Fred in the Pontoon once said, book early.

It's sunny, it's hot, and the terrace is in tumult, the steps are a-shaking as the Town two and a half thousand invaded. Way, way away some locals had sneaked in, perhaps curious to see so many aliens in Alfreton. They'll miss us when we've gone. Their game against Grimsby probably keeps them solvent.

Town lined up in a 4-4-2 as follows: McKeown, Parslow, Pearson, Gowling, Robertson, Mackreth, Clay, Disley, Jolley, Pittman and John-Lewis. The substitutes were Brown, Chapell, Hannah, Palmer and Arnold. The caged-off substitute substitutes were Magnay, be-capped Toto, Humble, Walker, McLaughlin, Bignot, Winfarrah, and Hamish McWatson. No Magnay, no way are we happy. The congregation of the church of St Carl the Divine Deliverer have come to worship, not for a tea party.

Magnay's masked army stormed the cage for a surreal selfie as the bouncing began. It's like the good old days again with roof-walkers, girder-hangers and a cluster of hedge-dwellers among the massed Mariner migration. Were you blessed by the nuns of the order of the holy Magnay?

They played in red, Town played in blue. It's a beautiful day.

First half: All or nothing

Town kicked off towards the locals.

Lennie missed, Lennie missed, Lennie missed. Clay volley-walloped, the keeper flobby-flobbled. Jolley scraped, Dizzer nodded, Lennie missed. Lennie missed with left foot, right foot, left head and right head. Lennnie volleyed. Lennie stood on the ball. Lennie: successfully avoiding scoring.

It's a Mariners metronome in the midlands. A practice game against a bunch of cobblers.

Nicky's Nudgers? They had one attack. Coiled from their left, bouncing off Hawley's chest and Jamie Mack star-jumped to smother. That is them entirely, no need to worry, close your eyes and drift away, close your eyes and drift away, for the Bouncing Boys will sing you a song with no words and no tune. It's a lazy Monday afternoon in Alfreton.

They've missed one, we've missed four, we all miss Magnay.

Second half: Long agos and worlds apart

Neither team made any changes at half time, though they came out pretty pronto, so perhaps they all wanted to get home for tea.

Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam… chips and spam. That's the second half for you. Wee Jackie Mackreth was the chief spammer. Half the half was taken up with the Scouse scamperer roasting and toasting his various wing-back opponents, coasting by as if they were a discarded picnic in the woods… and then tapping lowly and slowly into a thicket of red and not the blue beyond. Repeat ad nauseum. We're getting sick of it.

All Town, all Town as time drifted like a shopping bag along the golden sands of Theddlethorpe

The ball got stuck in some brambles. That's not a metaphor: that's real life.

Lennie turned and burned narrowly wide, or maybe it was widely narrow. Jolley japes along the bye-line and a scrape off the line. All Town, all Town as time drifted like a shopping bag along the golden sands of Theddlethorpe.

Palmer replaced Pittman. Hooray! Town scored. Hooray! A corner delayed as Jolley started to hobble off. The referee insisted the corner be taken. It was taken, elevated beyond and scrumbled away. Mackreth jingled all the way back into the area and scruffled lowly. Gowling flicked as it passed, the ball tickling off the shins of a redman and waltzing into the bottom right corner. The keeper static and the statistics say own goal. Who cares. It's about time.

Arnold replaced Jolley and Mackreth continued to ad nauseate, but the pills were starting to work. Wee Jackie dribbled and wibbled a bibbly-bobbler against the post. Wee Jackie bobbled a wibbly-bibbler against the keeper. How many do we want to not score today?

I won't forget that Pearson tackle. The Bobby Moore of the Bananarama.

A-ha, a Derbyshire dibble and dobble, some hubble and trouble. Hawley pounced to flick over Jamie Mack. Percy Parslow scuttled back to head up onto the underside of the crossbar, the ball bouncing into Jamie Mack's hands. He chucked long, Mackreth ran and ran and ran and spammed again into the unmanned near post. What else from them? A shotty dink and a bit of plinky-plonk honky-tonk piano playing. Ivories were tickled, and we were laughing.

And they were no more, if they ever were. Andi Thanoj came on. There's no need to be rude.

Gowling be-donked over, Palmer de-thwonked wide, Clay drooped a coiler, Lenell John-Lewis stooped to steer and the ball disappeared into the net behind the bouncing boys.

Four minutes were added to our day and Weee Jack was replaced by Chapell. Chapell kicked the ball out of play, then kicked the ball towards goal, the keeper saving lowly. The bouncing boys crept over the wall and bear-hugged Palmer as the picnic in the park descended into a moshpit of minor mayhem.

A tired game against dismal butterflies. Easy, it's so easy, like taking candy from a baby.