Cod Almighty | Match Stats

Saturday 28 February 2026

Division 4

Notts County 0

Grimsby Town 1 Vernam (85)

Attendance: 12,487 (1,993 away fans)

Turi was calmly effective as the soporific sweeper – with a suitably cynical streak to cover any missed fluffs - whilst the defence was solidly solid, but the cleanest of sheets was guaranteed through the extended excellence of the Tangerine Tyke. What about that orange!

The red card? He didn't see zee incident, coming over the full Arsene Wenger, ducking in the shadows, diving in the dark with a wandering word doodle about not being perpendicular to the hypotenuse. Let's talk about the finer things in life, let's not get tangled up in Notts whines:

"I thought we were very good without the ball…we frustrated the whole ground and knew that they'd get more and more anxious and then…classic Chas."

Unlike Arsene, Dour Dave can zip up his coat and refuses to gloat over his tactical tinkerings:

"Six changes? I didn't even know, we don't think of it that way…we pick a team for the game and hope they do their job…it's the best way, if we had Cookie up front we wouldn't have any legs behind. I had a chat with him, he understands. He wasn't happy but he understands."

That's the snag with old nags, you have to choose the course for your horse.

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Marty was supremely sane and sanguine…for a while:

"We tried and just come up short, they did the job they wanted to do, they won fair and square…we haven't got time to take 45 minutes off and we leave it in the hands of the football industry and the rest I don't want to discuss."

C'mon Marty, it's good to talk, let it all hang out baby:

"Red card? Errrrm, opinion, err, bewildered…we were just about to take Lee off as he was tired, we're in Ramadan at the moment and his energy levels had just dipped. It was just a bit of a lazy challenge and he just missed the ball and he just made contact with the player, but it was a tired slow contact so errm, it's…it's in terms of those things I have to just respect the officials and understand that I'm going to speak to them now and get some substance and try and learn from it and try to see if they can learn from it as well…they certainly were duped into certain decisions throughout the game."

What he believes, he'll wail about all that is not just. Just a minute Marty, how many eyes have you been using?

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Staunch, solid, committed, organised. And that's just the back four. Town were negatively effective, with a firm finger firmly in the dyke. And there's none with firmer fingers than Smith, which is lucky given he's the keeper. He's a goalkeeper. He keeps goal, he does exactly what it says on his tin hat.

This was a game of intellectual sumo played out in a midfield of rolling grapples, testing for a momentary lapse, for an apple to fall and for one player to crumble. Our midfield didn't blink, and when they fumbled, they were prepared to invoke the dark arts. They meant business.

Our wings were our weakest point, rarely detecting danger and protecting the full-backs, being barely an actor in attack. But, hey, The Wolds Panther was ready for his close-up in the end, and, at the very, very last, Burns did fall over and win a free kick. You can't say they weren't a major contribution to road safety.

This was all about the collective, moving together, grooving together; welcome to the machine.

The simple Piemen were strangely subdued for half the game, frantic and frenetic for the other half, they just didn't get the balance right and then lost their minds as time ticked on.

Yes, yes, these humbled Pies were a sad bag of shaky flakes, paying the price for one mistake.

Those County lines were predictably fluid and flexible. Sure, sure, they were statistically superior, the data shows dominance, but what, actually, factually, did they achieve for their ball hugging, churning and chugging? They really missed Jatta and missed a trick in doubling up their strikers from the start.

Now our advice to those Maggapies who cry, beware looking through just one eye. Artistic beauty and technical excellence are all well and good but the name of the game is don't blame others for your own shortcomings. Kick the ball into the net. Stop opponents from kicking the ball into your net.

Carry on, but don't lose your heads. You should go up. You really should. Stop faffing about.

Singing, dancing and much good feeling attended this day in the stalling Piemen's stand.

Mr D Brown

What a fabulously curious bad egg this was.

The yellow peril was fried, boiled and poached post-game for the sending off and, well, we'd be furious if it had happened to one our players, wouldn't we. The pastel peeper had trouble all day distinguishing between pushes, pulls and pratfalls and the cat calls were descending from all stands.

He was always on the brink of guessing the wrong way but at least he erred in our favour, opening the bathroom window for some Cleethorpes catburgling. The locals shook their heads and wondered, then called the police department, but there's two bonus points for making us happy, which takes him up to 6.222.

A simple twist of fate and we go, they go, nuts in Notts.

In a word: stalking