Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 31 August 2024

Division 4

Grimsby Town 2 Rose (28), Svanborsson (47)

Bradford City 1 Sanderson (78)

Attendance: 7,004 (1,186 away fans)

It's an expensive way to meet your favourite player, far cheaper to stalk him to a petrol station. He's a Yorkie, so he's bound to stop off at that Jet station on the A180.

Rose was a persistent pest, Khouri brought bite, Green had legs and he knows how to use them, but the fabulous futchering of Cameron McJannet didn't go unnoticed. Wee Janet soared and smothered Cook into invisibility whilst sweeping up behind the flaky flanks.

Magnificent, excellent, full value, lovely, super, smashing, great. Stay out of the black and into the red, nothing in this game for two in a bed. Big Dave hit the bullseye with a well-aimed arrow into the bleating heart of Yorkshire:

"Very pleasing. Greeny doing his usual…running. Jason's finding the weather ridiculously hot in Waltham."

You can't beat a bit of Bully. Oh, we just did.

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Little Alex, an occasionally one-eyed chicken wrangler and officially Bradford's present manager, was unusually sanguine and accurate in his post-match sighing session:

"Today was a game that we absolutely did not deserve to win. They played with aggression and precision, but we also allowed them to do that. We went off the gameplan."

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A solid centre, pack-hunting pressing, triangles of tremendosity, pace and precision in passing and movement and all the while at the top of the tree thorny Rose rocked and Cool Dadi shook the chicken shack.

As an attacking force Town were what Artell promises it will be: a coordinated Kaleidoscope of psychedelic whirls and swirls that sent Bradford into a daze, for they needed a crystal ball to see through the haze. Defensively, ah, well, there we are, we know where the problems lie, we can't lie to ourselves about our chances when the opponents attack the flankers. At least Rodgers and Futchenstein II are holding the fort despite being short, but is Wright the right stuff? To concede one weak waffle goal may be considered misfortune to conceded two identical goals looks like carelessness.

Work to be done, work being done. Home comforts and we weren't bored.

Some complacent chickens came home to roost.

These strolling players strutted as their director tutted and they were gently gutted by Artell's effervescent elephants. Yep, they played as if they thought they merely needed to exist to be declared victors.

Woefully insipid. Each and every one of them. Marvellous.

It's all in the mind and we don't mind opponents who are blind to their own shortcomings. Bradford, you're gonna need some bigger boots if you want to leave us behind in the glamorous gutter of professional football. Any more of this and they'll fulfil their historic destiny of failing to succeed against all odds.

Well, we talked about it, talked about it, we talked about it, talked about Town movin’ and groovin’

Mr S Martin

A curious egg who managed to confound and astound everyone present, often at the same time. He at least stamped down on the rogue Bradford wheel clamp gang that had come over for the weekend, seeking a quick profit in a small seaside town. Distinctly average for this time of year and this type of league: 5.766. He could have been worse.

Mariners mashing, Dadi dashing and the funkless chickens sent crashing.

In a word: schmooving