Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 27 January 2018

Division 4

Grimsby Town 0

Luton Town 1 Collins (48)

Attendance: 4159 (522 away fans)

Was anybody listening, was anybody left, was there even a sponsor, let alone a deflating photograph involving an uncomfortably clad match-day tripper and an uncomfortable temporary employee clad in monochrome?

Luke Summerfield, I suppose, as he was around and about and here and there more often than most. Nothing more to it than that.

Our increasingly snippy gaffer says a lot but says nothing. In the game in his head Town were unlucky because non-flammable Luton played "some" of the game with ten men, John.

"They had ten men for some of the game, but it didn't matter. The first half-hour we were the best side, we've hit the crossbar."

What else? Hard work, John. It bloomin' well is, isn't it. What an arsonist.

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Every trite utterance you'd expect a manager to say when his team has won with ten men, but eventually summed it up in more words than players left on the pitch:

"We dug in and got a goal and then just defended."

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What are we going to do now? What are we going to do now? What are we going to do now?

Here we are standing in the shadow of the Bananarama, getting ready for the heartaches to come. It wasn't embarrassingly poor, they just looked like a team meandering towards the waterfall, vaguely aware of some frothing, foaming and rumbling ahead. All the players tried in their own way, but there is nothing new to observe, it's just the shape of things that is different.

It's the Mariner's Mantra: what method is there being implemented? How do Town expect to score? Hey Fenty, the Bananarama is not Nirvana.

It's just another week of men looking at other men wondering what they are going to do next.

Not a patch on the Luton of old, like the one just a month ago.

This bag of oranges was extremely mundane, no different from Wycombe or Carlisle in functional adequacy with a couple of twiddles at the periphery. Shinnie-shin-shin and Harry Cornick Jnr were occasional butterflies that fluttered by, while Captain Sheehan was auditioning for the role of Captain Hook, a pantomime baddie floating with gutterflies as he attempted to frame the innocent with feigned falls.

At parity in personnel they were just about the equals of Town. Yeah, that scary.

They still should avoid failing to get promoted, simply because the whole division is rotten to the core.

Wearing feelings on our faces while our faces took a rest.

Mr M Salisbury

Was utterly superb, even not booking Clarke for missing with his plough: a masterpiece of sense and sensibility. He listened to reason, he considered the facts and had an acceptably approximate grasp of maths, physics and bionics. His minor mistakes were simply following the advice of his shonky linesman. What a smart boy then, perhaps we'll give this smart boy a score of ten? Nay, nay Mr Wilks, that can never happen: 9.665

Round and round and around we go, where our world's headed, nobody knows.

In a word: deluded