A Win Would be Nice

Last updated : 16 November 2010 By Dave Thomas
Chris Iwelumo
Chris Iwelumo - his lack of movement is obvious but when he scores we win
Driving over for the next 90 minute chapter against Watford I thought this is how it must feel to be a dog, ever faithful but mistreated by its master, yet still goes back to his knee hoping for a kind word, a snuggle, and maybe a treat? Come what may, that dog just keeps on going back, ever hopeful.

The Bolton financial misfortunes were of some consolation however as opposed to Burnley's nice little £14million profit. Chairman Barry had devoted a page in the programme to Burnley's news. Whatever Gartside said to Coyle to entice him to Bolton must surely have raised queries in the latter's head when the money figures were posted in November. A loss of £34million was announced for the financial year, increasing the staggering overall debt to over £90million. There was a measure of spin from Gartside when he announced that they were a trading and not a selling club and the debt was OK though - it was internal. So that's alright then. SKY then revealed that he added that Cahill and Elmander might well have to be sold in January, almost offering them to any interested Champions League side; they had six or seven players too many, and that the wage bill had to be reduced. No matter how generous owner Eddie Davis has been, he surely must have been thinking about how long he could continue to bankroll the club to this degree. Relegation would be utterly disastrous for them. Knowing Owen Coyle as we do, it is not rocket science to suppose that behind that cheerful face and positive front, there now lay a manager just a tad concered by the empty piggy bank. The job that he was sold seemingly did not contain what it said on the tin. Gartside if memory serves was the chairman who proposed that there should be no relegations from the Premiership. No prizes for guessing why.

Another interesting story was that Megson was on a 20 points target - by the end of December. A national journalist I have emailed several times was adamant that if Hull City had not equalised against Bolton and come back from being 2 - 0 down, Megson would not have been sacked. When Hunt scored their second goal, his time was up, and Coyle was as good as Bolton manager from that moment. "I recall he was like a ghost after the game and realised his fate," said the journalist.

Meanwhile, back at the Turf after the immaculate minute's silence, the older I get the more I feel humbled by it; the first 45 minutes was simply a carry on from second-half Tuesday - except perhaps marginally worse. With the bright sun low in the sky opposite those of us in the James Hargreaves, it was almost impossible to see. This was in fact a blessing, for there was little worth seeing. The highspot was the cake at halftime that Mrs T had brought. The low spot was the comedy goal that Burnley conceded. How is it that Burnley manages to contrive so many goofs - so many concocted cock-ups? Does any other team in the Leagues do this as much? A high ball came from out of the sky from somewhere, maybe from outer space, it was so hard to see; Carlisle and Elliott were each side of the spot where it bounced up about 20 feet into the air.

They dithered and dallied… yours Carlo… no after you Wado… oh go on then you have a go… no you you're bigger than me… hypnotised like rabbits in headlights although in truth Carlisle the 6' defender should have made it his. Was the sun in his eyes? Whatever, a grateful Watford forward nipped in, said thanks very much lads, advanced on goal and coolly slotted home. The crowd groaned. It was entirely in keeping with the dross so far seen. It was so bad that even watching Wagner for 45 minutes would have been better.

Prior to that Burnley had in fact taken the lead. Talk about route one; this was from a long kick from deep in the Burnley half, headed diagonally into the box by Rodriguez and headed home by Iwelumo; from end to end in three seconds and never touched the floor. It was in fact superb in its simplicity, execution and speed. Anyone who sneezed would have missed it.

Munching my cake at half-time, I wanted to ask the manager what the first-half tactics were all about. I wanted to ask the two guys dressed as Santas in the front row of the Jimmy Mac did they not feel slightly daft, had they got the month wrong? I wanted to ask why was winger Eagles meandering and faffing about in the middle of the park all half? Why was he not where he should be - outside on the right? Why was central striker Rodriguez moping about on the left? Why was he not in the middle? It made no sense, witless, all of them getting in each others' way, cluttering the place up; it made no progress, it made no football, it made no chances, it made no difference to anything as it became impossible to put any label on what the formation was or what the intentions were. It became impossible to actually want to see more of it. In short it was a shambles although someone squinting against the sun said they thought it was possibly some sort of fluid 4-3-3.

As a diversion I tried in vain from too far away to see in through the windows across into the Jimmy Mac to where it was Ladies Day and all the crumpet and Burnley's finest lasses were being wined and dined. The new Burnley University of Football could surely run courses on how to be a WAG. As we'd driven in, a gaggle of them dressed to the nines and staggering about on Posh type heels, (the sort that cause bunions in later life but you try telling these girls), and draped with bling, had been having a smoke outside the doors down below. As I walked by (three times for a good look and one more for good luck) there was more best-end-of-leg on show than in a Dewhursts butchers.

Yet somehow, thanks to the extraordinary, stunning opener (stunning because it was so unexpected and came out of nothing), we went in at half-time on level terms. Out they came again with no change in personnel although at last Eagles must clearly have been told stay out wide. It made no difference though and Watford took the lead. Villain and ex-Rover Taylor, the centre-back with a vague resemblance on one of his better days to Desperate Dan, headed home from a corner totally unmarked. The crowd groaned again and from this point did indeed begin to get on the players' backs - not nice.

Do something, change something; think of something just about everyone in the ground was by now beaming their thoughts across to the dugout. Then a little kerplunk… a little metalic sound like the noise of a coin dropping… what's that said Mrs T… ah I said that's the sound of the penny that's just dropped… he's realised he has to do something...

Manager and assistant manager had a conflab on the touchline, a mini huddle, a short conference - although it seemed to take an hour; you could see the thought bubbles over their heads.

Russ what shall we do… erm not sure boss… what about making a change… ooh yeh good idea… waddya think… ooh I know lets swap two of them… yeh right… er which two… ooh that's a hard one… lets take off a short one and a tall one…

"What would you do Dave,"
said Mrs T… "Er something else on Saturdays maybe"… "No you can't we got season tickets"… "Oh yeh, well, OK I'd take off Eagles, Iwelumo and Alexander and bring on Thompson, Wallace and Marney… oh and I'd have done this at halftime… or even before"…

And so AT LAST, off went Iwelumo (got that one right didn't I) and Elliott. Wow Elliott, one of the big guns, that was a surprise. Eyebrows were raised where we were sitting. Iwelumo is a conondrum though, his lack of movement is obvious but when he scores we win. By the way we have three seats in a little row of four behind one of the stairways in the JK Upper, right down by the Jimmy Mac end. Very cosy, very private, very sheltered for the old knees. Very handy too for the gents… as you get older you have to go more often… don't laugh…you'll be old yerself one day… you'll see. We did think about taking a bit of old carpet and some potted plants to make it more homely and comfy. Stop by sometime and drop me your details on the back of a £5 note.

On came Wallace (got that one right) and Thompson (hey got that right as well). Wallace went wide left, Eagles hugged the right. Jay and Thommo went in the middle and boy from that moment on we murdered 'em. Suddenly there was shape, balance, mobility, purpose, method to replace the previous inane fumblings. From the 66th minute Burnley came to life with zest, sparkle, energy, creativity. The second Burnley goal was utterly stunning. By now with his pal back on the wing in front of him Mears came to life. When he made his runs in the first half you could see him looking for the missing Eagles. The ball was dinked to Eagles; at pace he controlled it on his instep, raced on, crossed deep and there was Wallace to volley home with a shot from 6 yards that nearly broke the net - a simply outstanding goal; another one that took just three seconds from conception to execution.

The Clarets poured forward, Wallace devastating (well maybe a little hyperbole there) and then the winner. Over came the ball into the box, Taylor now resembling the Incredible Hulk, clattered into the back of Rodriguez. Rodriguez went down like a felled Oak, the referee indicated the spot, Taylor went mental, he must have thought chopping trees down on a football pitch is OK; the referee consulted the linesman surrounded by Watford players. It made no difference and Alexander was on hand to smash home. (Whoops Alexander was one of the ones I'd said should come off). Cue pandemonium just below where we sit. Taylor came over to vent his spleen at Rodriguez, suddenly a crowd of players was jostling but order was restored.

For 24 minutes (plus 5 extra) we had a game worth watching. Watford made chances, good chances; Grant had to make some super smart dives on the goal-line in the final minutes. Burnley rode their luck, but it's about time they had some and it brought a win, a 3-2 win and maybe now the restoration of a little confidence and belief. And maybe too there were some lessons for the manager. Rodriguez is not a wide player, Eagles is not a wandering striker. Wide players win games. Maybe too it just saved the manager's bacon; boardroom questions must surely have been asked had the first half dreariness continued and the game been lost or only drawn. We shall never know. Laws' changes saved the day, but why oh why, were they not made far earlier?

"Today was a real test of our character and mental strength," said Manager Laws afterwards.

"Today was a real test of our will to live," said supporters up until the 66th minute.

Earlier in the week it was the Park View Chippy that saved the day. Against Watford it was the belated substitutions and little Wallo. Back at home it was stew and dumplings. And do dumplings ever taste better than after a 3-2 win?

Cardiff top, Burnley 6th 10 points behind and Preston bottom; Bolton I hate to say… 5th in the Prem, but their finances dreadful.