Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Mark Wilson

28 October 2008

Dagenham & Redbridge 4 Grimsby Town 0

28 October 2008 will live in my memory as a dark, dark night. And I don't mean that the lights didn't work.

This game wasn't awful: it was beyond awful. It was beyond whatever is beyond awful. It was finding your girlfriend in bed with your dad, Hull in the top three of the Premiership and the Nottingham running out of Ruddles County.

Before the detail though, a little caveat. I am Last-Minute Match Reporter. I am so last-minute that I was asked to do it the day after the match. I have no notes. If my grasp of the detail is a little shaky it's because I didn't know I had to have a grasp of the detail. Forgive me my trespasses.

Victoria Road is a homely ground snuggling behind some houses on the main road to and from nowhere in particular. Low stands (very low) cover three sides and an open end completes the rectangle. Everyone I came into contact with from the club appeared to be a volunteer helping to make sure that their local team ran efficiently and with a friendly face. The half-time draw result was displayed on a handwritten sign carried around the ground by a little old lady who appeared to be so much like everyone's gran that even the most Neanderthal of our supporters resisted a chorus imploring her to bare her chest for the gentlemen in attendance. It was cold. Phenomenally cold.

Around 1,600 joined me for the evening, 250 of whom were genetically predisposed towards pessimism, walks on the beach and talking with very flat vowels.

North partnered Bore in the starting 11, Boshell made a welcome return. Hegarty and Jarman made way. We lined up in a military standard 4-4-2.

First half
Town started brightly and shared the early exchanges although Dagenham looked marginally more dangerous up front. Bore, Heywood and Bennett all made early attempts to catch the eye of Cod Almighty's ace match reporter. It wasn't pretty, with both sides prepared to welly it upfield rather than play the beautiful game; the Daggers seemed to have more of a plan with their wellying, as it was regularly humped toward the right-hand corner for their right winger to run on to before crossing into the box. Town, on the other hand, just seemed to be happy to hump.

Both teams swapped shots at goal with Till and Bore trying to warm the keeper's hands in the opening 13 minutes. Bore's shot went over the bar when he probably should have done better and hit the target. Barnes looked the more harassed of the two keepers. Harass turned to harrumph on 16 minutes when a deflected shot led to a Daggers corner. The ball was floated long and over all combatants in the box to fall at the feet of centre-half Arber, who controlled well and thrashed it into the roof of the net with striker-like aplomb. Cue Jamie Clarke searching desperately for a culprit when it was patently obvious that a man at the far post stood on his own should really be covered by the right-back. The Daggers had probably had the better of the game up to that point without really testing Barnes, so it was hard to swallow that their goal came from a defensive error.

Dagenham smelt blood and began to pressurise Town. Hunt struggled to stem the flow from midfield and Heywood and Bennett were forced into increasingly desperate tackles on the edge of the 18-yard box. The new boss man lost his cool and made a point or two in dynamic fashion.

As the screw turned, the difference in tactics became ever clearer. Dagenham play a long ball because they have a couple of quick guys who can get behind defences and a strong lad who can hold the ball up (cue groans). Town play a long ball because we only have three players who can pass. One of the players who can pass never gets the ball because he is in midfield and watches it fly over his head for 90 minutes. Our tactics fall down because we neither get the ball behind defences to take advantage of Bore and North's speed or have anyone tall or strong enough to challenge for it and hold it up. But I think you knew this already.

The inevitable second goal came on 35 minutes and again it was an error from Town rather than Dagenham's superiority that counted. A decent low cross from the right (again) was anticipated well by Barnes and the danger seemed to be over but Barnes allowed it to squirt out of his hands and Strevens stroked the ball into an empty net.

Before half time Newey managed to get a shot on target, forcing Roberts in the Dagenham goal to get mud on his shorts for the first time. The break was a relief from the football if not from the cold.

Second half
Mr Newell appeared to have talked in the dressing room about passing and some of the players seemed to have remembered what it was as the second half started with a slightly better Town performance. Bore could have made it 2-1 on the hour when he got to a decent North cross at the far post but instead effectively passed it back to Roberts in the Dagenham goal. Our best football came when Trotter got hold of the ball and was allowed to move it on the ground, particularly when he passed it to the wings.

But as Town showed small signs of life Dagenham looked to kill the game off and forced a number of corners, which were either cleared desperately or with great fortune. North and Till made way for Jarman and Hegarty, which made sense in the case of North, who had put in much effort but had had little to show for it - but less so for Till, who had provided many of Town's better crosses.

Dagenham's pressure paid off though, as the clanging chimes of doom pealed out on 63 minutes, when Strevens found Benson, who brought the ball down calmly and hammered it home. Boshell was replaced by Llewellyn and depression settled among the travelling throng.

Up to this point you will be thinking that this report reads as if Town were poor but not as awful as the introduction suggests. It's at this point where things got unbearable. The third goal was the moment for the white flag to go up and for the players to wander around the pitch like they were beaten (because they were) and frankly couldn't give a shit about it. I have watched well beaten sides on a Sunday morning or in a kids' league have more pride and put more effort in when losing. To watch a group of blokes being relatively well paid and wearing the same shirt that Cockerill, Cumming, Waters and all the others worked their arses off in was heartbreaking. They should be ashamed of themselves and I wish Mike Newell all the luck in the world; if he can motivate this shower he is a genius and he deserves lots of time and support to do his thing.

I can't tell you about the fourth goal: I had abandoned all hope and was almost at the car when I heard the home supporters cheer. In almost 30 years of watching Town I can count the number of games I've left before the final whistle on the fingers of one hand.