Cod Almighty | Match Report

by Tony Butcher

31 May 2024

A warm, sunny, clear day down at the old Bull and Bush, and the new Den too. Around 700 Town fans settled back into a dark corner of the Palace of Concrete, happy in the knowledge that nothing mattered, though more than a few considered that personal safety outweighed the transient joy of a meaningless victory. Whatever, it was picnic weather. Would the Town players be at the same picnic?

The pre-match warm up revealed something old, something borrowed and something new. The three Ws, as Jonathan Ross might say, Raven! Robinson! Ward? Slender, bog standard Town height and very young, the replacement, replacement right-back was Iain Ward, with the replacement, replacement left back being Ben Chapman too, it hardly bode well for a cohesive back line. Had they met before?

Town lined up in the usual 4-4-2 formation as follows: Coyne, Ward, Groves, Todd, Chapman, Butterfield, Pouton, Coldicott, Cooke, Allen and Boulding. The substitutes were Croudson, Raven, Burnett, Robinson and Livingstone. Not a big team, but at least they were in shape. Given that Millwall lined up with loads of sturdy looking blokes and Dion Dublin, Town didn't look likely to repel too many set pieces. Well, we'd soon find out and, as we kept reminding ourselves, IT DOESN’T MATTER.

The ground looked full, with the exception of the usual 'safety areas' and the locals were singing merrily along to the usual set of tedious rock anthems, though perhaps Sit Down was a subtle instruction. The Millwall players huddled together before the game, the Town players stood around with hands on hips looking a little bored.

1st half
Millwall kicked off towards the Town fans (on the left as seen on TV) and the first five minutes were nothing to write home about. Butterfield was nobbled within a minute (by a Millwall player, not a Town fan), Ward's first touch was a pass straight out of play, and Town had a lot of possession but didn't seem to be particularly interested in running around much. It was slow, strolling football and noticeable that Pouton and Coldicott eschewed a couple of opportunities to crunch and clamp.

Millwall were 'up for it' more, with all their players sprinting, challenging and, above all, concentrating. Todd, Coldicott, Butterfield – all played schloppy (©Ruud Gullit) passes through the midfield, simply putting Town under pressure, and giving possession to Millwall. Ah well, it doesn't matter, does it. Relax, whatever happens, Town are safe. And after five minutes Town ensured that Millwall were safe too.

Little of interest was happening on the pitch, the ball was ping-ponging between the teams in midfield. Harris, their centre-forward, nipped in front of a Town player near the halfway line and headed out towards Ifill, in an inside right position, just inside the Town half. Ifill ran towards the Town penalty area, straight at Chapman, who was joined by Butterfield in a gentleman's excuse me in the middle of the pitch. Ifill continued onwards, stopped about 30 yards out, and awaited the arrival of the 14:03 from London Bridge, the flying right-back. Chapman, and especially Butterfield, jogged lightly towards goal, rather than towards the ball. Lawrence steamed forwards and, from about 25 yards out near the touchline, hit a first time low cross into the middle of the penalty area, about six or seven yards out. Dublin ran around Todd in a small parabola, slid forward and hit the ball between Coyne's legs, whilst Todd jumped upwards and waved his hands in the air. 96.79% of the crowd was ecstatic, the remaining 3.21% simply rolled their eyes, turned to their right, shrugged and tutted. Ah well, it doesn't matter, does it. Whatever happens, Town are safe.

But of course, when you have actually bothered yourself to turn up, to pay money, something starts to tick inside your own brain. And it obviously started to tick in the collective brain of the Town team, for the next five or so minutes were a little better. Butterfield did a double Zidane drag back, showing off the skills that will one day make him a star. In his own mind, at least.

A couple of minutes after the goal Allen peeked out from behind a very thick curtain to remind us he still existed, when he collected a flick on in the centre, about 20 yards out. He flipped the ball back over his head and passed to Coldicott, a yard or so behind him, who was then scythed down. Cooke chipped the free kick into the wall, and Town got a corner. Then another one. Then a goal.

The second corner was taken by Cooke on the Town left, clipped short to Butterfield near the edge of the penalty area and passed back out to Cooke, who curled in a low cross towards the near post. The ball was headed away to Coldicott, about 20 yards out in the centre. Now who says Coldicott can't pass, and has no vision? He looked up, spotted a couple of Town players unmarked inside the penalty area and delicately chipped the ball over the on-rushing defence. Butterfield, about eight yards out and level with the keeper's right-hand post, controlled the ball on his chest and swept a low right foot shot to the keeper's right. Ten minutes gone and 1-1. Grumbles and groans from the blue-clad masses, chuckles and chortles from the Town fans. Ooh, a draw would be nice, wouldn't it. Wouldn't it?

Mmm, they didn't think so, as this spurred Millwall on to a greater level of intensity, one that the Town players could not raise themselves to. Town players got clattered, harried, hustled and generally overrun for a 15-minute period. Town simply played too slowly, in fact, like Burnley played last week in the first half. It was a bit of role reversal, with Town now being the other foot, with Millwall the boot (quite literally at times).

Just after the equaliser, Dublin headed a deep cross from their right very powerfully towards the bottom right-hand corner of the goal, from about eight yards out and a few yards beyond the far post. Coyne was well positioned and flopped gently onto the ball. Warning lights flashed on our map. A couple of minutes later Butterfield played a terrible, slow dribbling pass across the halfway line towards Ward. It was far too slow and Reid reached the ball before Ward, who simply stood in the winger's way and was booked. The free kick was flung beyond the far post and Dublin, again, out-jumped his marker to head a couple of yards wide from about eight yards out. A Klaxon sounded.

After about a quarter of an hour Ifill barged and bundled his way down the Town left, running through Pouton and Chapman as if they didn't exist. Ifill got to the bye-line, just inside the penalty area and crossed. Cahill threw himself at the ball and, from about eight yards out, in the centre, glanced the ball so slightly it didn't even go out of play. Should have been a goal. Wasn't. Good. Wait, there's more. Five minutes later Town faffed about on the right and allowed Harris to win the ball, turn with it, then curl a right-foot shot from the edge of the area into Coyne's midriff. And a minute later the party started again.

Millwall got a throw-in about five yards from the bye-line on their left. It was thrown in towards the near post, where Dublin was sandwiched between Groves and Pouton. The bread fell apart and Dublin headed the ball on into the middle of the penalty area. Harris backed away from Todd and headed the ball firmly down and across Coyne from the middle of the goal, about seven or eight yards out. Do I need to describe the sense of déjà vu which descended on an extremely tiny corner of South Bermondsey? The ironists amongst the barely interested Town support sang "3-2, were gonna win 3-2", along with the old favourites covering all our favourite topics. Mind you "If you want to laugh at Barnsley clap your hands" was pretty stupid. How about just laughing?

For entertainment we consoled ourselves with small things, like the great Pouton moment. Facing the Town goal, about 35 yards out on the centre left after he had won possession, Pouton was under intense pressure from Ifill, who forced our Enforcer back, and back, and back, until Pouton was near the corner flag. After four aborted step overs the fifth succeeded, with Pouton rolling around the challenge and stepping past another one on the touchline. All it needed was one shake of his magic hips. He passed inside to Butterfield (Olé), to Chapman (Olé), to Pouton (Olé), back to Chapman (Olé), up to Boulding (Olé), to Coldicott (Olé) to Butterfield (Urgh). He sent a cross straight out of play for a goal kick. Wonderful, boastful football up to the Millwall penalty area. Rubbish final pass. A small moment to savour in an afternoon of slack torpor.

Around the half hour, Millwall broke quickly down their right following a Town corner, with the resulting cross being headed out by Chapman at the near post for a throw-in. Yawn, yawn, it was flung in towards the near post, Dublin brushed Todd aside and back headed into the middle of the six-yard box. Ward headed away, but only just beyond the far post and about eight yards out. Harris, falling and with his back to goal, hit a right-footed volley which went straight into the ground, bounced up over Groves and towards and over a Millwall player standing in front of Coyne, bounced again and trundled slowly into the left-hand side of the goal. As the goals started to tot up it was becoming quite a mantra: "IT DOESN'T MATTER". It's only the first pre-season friendly of the 2002/3 season. "4-3, we're gonna win 4-3"

A couple of minutes later it should have been 4-1. The ball was swept from right to left, helped on first time to release Reid, alone and 20 yards out on their left. He saw Coyne come out and lofted the ball over and out of the ground. And do you know something, at this point Town had another shot, which was absolutely lovely, something for us to cheer about in our trademark ironic fashion. And it was from Bradley Allen too, the Man Who Wasn't There for Town, who hitherto and thereafter was the ghost of Mark Nicholls. You have never seen a footballer avoid the ball so successfully. That takes skill and years of training. Oh the shot. Sliced five yards wide after the Millwall right-back had passed to him about 25 yards out. If you were standing outside of the ground, and behind a lamppost, you may have thought it was close.

A couple of minutes later it should have been 4-1. Again. Again the panic was caused by a fast raid down the wings and an early cross. All simple stuff, but which caused Town (and especially the young full-backs) great problems. In this instance the ball was whacked from the centre down their left wing, one of the gnarling, snarling midfielders bustled down the wing and flipped over a fast cross into the centre of the penalty area, right on the six-yard line. Harris got in front of his marker and headed a few inches over the bar.

The rest of the half was Milwall too, an Ifill dribbler (boring, mishit) and Harris volleyed just wide from six yards out at the near post, following a deep cross from the left and a Dublin head back. Dublin again, crosses again, fortunately misses again. In added time Dublin managed to head Pouton, causing a further delay. It was a clumsy, daft challenge, where Dublin just ran into Pouton like a drunk meeting a dry-stone wall for the first time.

So, there we are, the home fans happy, the Town fans a little annoyed at the doziness on display, but as we kept telling ourselves "IT DOESN'T MATTER". Essentially, Millwall played as if something depended on the game, Town didn't. It was only half time, but more of this and Millwall would really give Town a hammering. Not a great way to end the season, especially after the last couple of months, but predictable. It isn't worth analysing individuals.

Stu's Half Time Toilet Talk
"Urgh, green tomato sauce!" "Ah, Livingstone. The Man for No Seasons." "It doesn't matter, does it. So why did I come?" "If Town win, remember it's women and children first." "I'd rather be at Appleby's eating a 99." "When does Ward choose his GCSEs?"

2nd half
Claridge replaced Dublin for Millwall, Town kept the same team. Ah, now it was official, Town really weren't bothered – they came out way before Millwall.

Within 30 seconds Boulding was seen, and did something worth mentioning. He chased down a chip into the left-hand corner, won the ball off the full-back who failed to caress the ball out of play. Boulding turned, ran into the box, wiggled, waggled and shimmied past another defender, cut the ball back from the bye-line, where it ricocheted between a Millwall player's heels and rebounded back to the goalkeeper.

A Town revival? No. A couple of minutes into the half Millwall had their only shot in the second half, and it allowed Coyne to remind the world that he is a good goalkeeper (despite conceding so many goals). After another long throw (you may be bored reading about it, we were bored watching them) was chucked in from the Millwall right, the ball bumbled and rumbled around the penalty box, finally dropping to Harris (I think) about 15 yards out near the corner of the area. He hit a first-time shot through a thicket of players at head height. Coyne saw it late and dived to his right, punching the ball away from above his head with his left arm. The ball dropped to his right and Groves managed to get his big toe to the ball before Claridge. Coyne picked up the ball and threw it out to Boulding on the Town right. He collected the ball inside the Town half and simply ran at the Millwall defence. One defender fell on his backside as he was turned towards Bow Bells, two more wobbled over towards the scampering striker. Boulding wellied a firm right-foot shot from about 15 yards out and near the edge of the penalty area, which the goalkeeper saved at the foot of his left-hand post. An exciting 30 seconds, the likes of which we shall not see for many months.

Straight after this Robinson replaced Cooke, with Butterfield going to the right and Robinson the left. Cooke had been kicked early on, and been a peripheral figure for much of the game as a result. Just after this change Robinson was cynically hacked from behind by Lawrence, who was booked, presumably because his surname brings the game into disrepute. The referee dropped his yellow card, the crowd jeered. Laughing along with the crème de la crème of South London litterati and gliteratti, the referee ran off and collided with Coldicott, tumbling slowly to the ground. They love their clowns in this part pf the world.

The free kick was taken quickly, from the wrong place, retaken and Groves strode upfield, did a Pouton step over, thrust past a defender and was in prime position 25 yards out. He looked up and played a short pass to his right, releasing Butterfield. Butterfield, being the Man Who Can (in his own mind), put his foot on the ball, allowed the defence to regroup, a full-back to tackle him and completely wasted a moment of danger by trying to, quite frankly, show off for the cameras. What did Millwall do? They simply ran off up field, having a 4v3. Fortunately for Town, Ifill's cross was headed clear by Todd, who was having a fine old time in the second half, now that he didn't have Dion Dublin to mark.

The second half was drifting by, with Millwall sitting back and content to hit Town on the break. The result was oodles of Town possession, but…the usual 'but' with Town. After about an hour, Ward (who had been much better in the second half) crumpled after knocking the ball out for a throw-in and was replaced by Burnett, which meant Coldicott retreated to right-back. The Town midfield then became much more fluid, with players swapping positions and, quite bizarrely, Butterfield becoming a playmaker, sweeping from right to left at will. Of course, this meant the pace of the game dropped from light jog to gentle stroll, which suited Town fine as possession was retained for minutes on end, winning many throw-ins. Chances? You must be joking. The season had ended, each team content with what they had, this was exhibition football. The exhibit being those players out of contract. Robinson was again very lively, though not very effective on the wing.

There were minor moments of concern for each side. Butterfield hit a low, slow dribbler straight at their keeper. Chapman allowed Ifill to knick the ball down the touchline when he thought it was going out, though the cross went straight to Coyne. Very, very minor moments as you can tell. After about 70 minutes Burnett hit a screaming 30-yarder which skimmed the advertising hoarding five yards to the right of the goal. It was that close. Yeah! A couple of minutes later Chapman left another ball which Ifill kept in play, Todd erased the nasty stench of danger by using his large personality to good effect. The cross hit his bottom.

Then the moment came when all Town fans arose, for HE had arrived. With about 10-15 minutes left there was a small earthquake, about 4.2 on the Richter Scale, for Livingstone took off his tracksuit and entered the gladiators' arena. Bradley Allen, the invisible man, was taken off, and on came our Towering Inferno: he's out of control and coming your way. Or rather the ball is outta control and heading your way, Mr Millwall player. Livingstone was dreadful, absolutely dreadful. We love him, but he's good for only 10 minutes a season, and those 600 seconds of beauty were two weeks ago at Carrow Road. He was barely aware of where the ball was in relation to his body. Hey, no spatial awareness Livvo. His introduction meant yet another tactical change, with Boulding going to the left wing and Robinson to the centre. Robinson had a fine last 10 minutes, being the only Town player to cause any difficulties to the Millwall defence, or shoot.

Ooh. Let me see, what happened in the last 10 minutes. Robinson attacked at pace down the right, cut along the bye line and crossed to the near post. The ball was half cleared and Butterfield did something of no great consequence which resulted in a corner. It was swung in from the Town right and Groves headed down, a bit softly, straight at the keeper from about a dozen yard out. A couple of minutes later Robinson controlled the ball just inside the Millwall half, on the Town left, turned, swayed left, then right, surged infield then swept a firm drive from about 25 yards. It skimmed off a defender's chest and skidded a yard wide of the keeper's left-hand post. Todd hit a magnificent pin-point pass from inside the Town half, on the right into a space behind the Millwall defence. Robinson bent a run behind the last defender and reached the ball just as the keeper reached the edge of the area. Unfortunately, Robinson missed the ball and it plopped up nicely into the keeper's hands. A minute later Robinson turned his marker in the middle of the Millwall half, swept forward and, from 25 yards, thundered a right-foot drive into the goalkeeper's chest.

In the last minute Coyne almost misjudged a long punt forward, as he allowed the ball to bounce and had to run back to catch it. And the final moments of normal time saw Livingstone dominate possession by trying a long shot, which pummelled the backside of his marker. He regained possession, lost it through bad control, regained it again, lost it again, and finally fell over, exhausted, having moved his feet for seconds on end.

That was the game: a forgettable end to a strange old season. The 90 minutes was irrelevant, and was played in that spirit really, as Town were not so much a team as some people who could occasionally raise enough energy to try to show a few tricks at someone else's party. Livvo would have been better off singing folk songs on the stairs, perhaps with a cable knit sweater, with Bradley Allen on pennywhistle. Collectively, Town were the perfect guests. They brought the beer and crisps, but read a book in the corner. The moral is, if Pouton doesn't crunch and Coldicott doesn't clamp then Town don't play. It's as simple as that.

All the players wandered over to the Town fans and waved, with Todd giving a thumbs up which said "goodbye, and thanks for all the fish."

It's over now. Have a serene summer.

Man of the Match
Paul Groves. Made fewer mistakes, concentrated longer, was basically better than any other striped one. Todd excelled in the second half, but was unable to cope with an ageing Premiership striker in the first. So PG it is.

Official Warning
Mr A Butler
Unobtrusive and fell over, which always gladdens the heart. No obvious mistakes, no complaints. One of his linesmen was rubbish (Not giving one offside in the first half when Millwall had plainly conceived a plan to have players standing offside but not 'active'), but the referee wasn't. No major decisions had to be made, but there were not many quibbles to be had about the little ones. Being picky one would say he indulged Millwall in a couple of overly firm thwacks, but why bother, Town didn't. He gets 8 from a benevolent, end of season judge.