He also expressed surprise that the last time he saw Leeds play two weeks earlier, the way they played then was not the way they played at Elland Road against Burnley. We presume from that that he was a tad surprised. The cads - they changed the way they played. How unfair was that?
Mind you it took Leeds fans and the rest of us by surprise as well. Ace blogger Andrew Butterwick wrote that new manager McDermott had achieved what others had struggled to do for a long time. He’d got clueless, directionless players of just two weeks earlier passing and moving like they’d been to a Barcelona masterclass. He went on to say that the same players that were now passing and moving so well, were the ones that couldn’t even pass the salt under manager Warnock. (Sometimes someone writes a line that you wish you’d thought of). No wonder Sean Dyche was gobsmacked. Barcelona was the last thing he would have planned for. So: the simple explanation was that Leeds had caught them out and the lads were unable to do “any front foot thinking.” I’ve heard some classic manager-speak in my cynical time, but that was a new one.
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| Jason Shackell refused to speak to the press |
The whisper was that Dyche had torn a strip off them in the dressing room after the game. I have no idea if that is correct or not, but I hope he did. Afterwards there was a refusal to speak to the Press by players. Suzanne Geldard wrote her best ever article and in the nicest possible way slammed them. She pointedly aimed a finger at Jason Shackell who ironically was one that could hold his head reasonably high after the Leeds dross. The modern player: maybe they think they’re doing us a favour playing for whatever club we support; scribbling their indecipherable scrawl when asked for an autograph by some little kid who hero-worships them. I’ve always wondered if that’s how they sign their contracts. They would do well to remember who it is that pay their wages. How carefully the local journalists have to tread. Say the wrong thing, write the wrong thing and they can say goodbye to any future consideration from the management. It was different years ago when folk like Granville Shackleton, Keith McNee and then Peter Higgs used to tell it like it was. If a player had a stinker they’d say so. If a player wasn’t pulling his weight, they’d say so. And of course those were the days when a player would phone a reporter more often than not to ask them a favour; players by the way that had twice the talent of today’s overpaid generation. Now, God forbid a local reporter says what he would dearly like to say. I don’t envy them. They have the unenviable task of writing a piece twice a week in the Burnley Express and every night in the Telegraph. Upset a player or the manager and they are excommunicated. At a time when even the dopiest player might have heard that the club needs to reduce wages, and in the big wide world outside people like you and me are finding it harder and harder to make ends meet; I have it on reasonable authority that one senior player, already on top wages, negotiating his new contract had actually asked for a pay increase!
By the time they arrived at Turf Moor, Cardiff had assured themselves of promotion. The change to a red shirt and the new name of the Dragons had not backfired in their faces. Sean Dyche called for the emergences of Burnley heroes to combat the threat of relegation. I’d written in a previous diary that there weren’t any at this club any more. Earlier this season you could point to Charlie Austin, scoring goals for fun, as a hero; or Trippier whose wing play, overlaps, runs to the by-line and superb crosses were worthy of the admission money alone. There’d been a period when we’d looked at both of them as possible £10million players. Grant with his penalty save against Bristol City had a heroic moment. Imagine if that game had ended 2-2. And Shackell has put in some shifts. Other than that, ‘hero’ had been a hard word to bestow on anyone.
But: one did step forward, and an unlikely one at that. In the 90th minutes who should come striding into the 6-yard box like Ya Ya Toure but big David Edgar: the 90th minute when some folk were already shuffling off in despair, and powered in an unstoppable header from a Trippier cross. Having sat and mumbled and muttered and grumbled through 99% of basically a forgettable game, I was on my feet with unexpected amazement at this goal that we decided on the way home was the goal that saved Championship football at Turf Moor for another season. Other results couldn’t have gone better including a 4–0 drubbing for Team India. Most teams around us had a bad day with only Huddersfield winning.
The manager referred to Cardiff as the Market Leaders, another first from the football lexicon. Someone should tell Sean that this is little Burnleh not the Stock Exchange. We have a “group” at the club as well. Just where has this word come from when “squad” or “team” has been so adequate for years. Then there’s that dreadful word “project”, which fortunately we haven’t heard at Burnley yet, thank goodness.
Yet again I spent long periods reading the programme seeing as the fare on offer on the green bit was so dull. In the first 45 minutes Burnley were as bad as most games we’ve seen with Cardiff moving forward at will. Shackell in his page said that he was pleased with the defending. Overall I couldn’t disagree; it’s at the other end that things are so ineffective and goals as scarce as Tory giveaways (except to themselves and funding funerals). The manager on his page maintained that at Blackpool and Leeds the team had been on the end of two individual moments that decided the outcome. Actually what they were on the end of was 90 minutes of being unable to score, and at Leeds 90 minutes of barely stringing two passes together in a performance devoid of everything needed to win a football match – movement and passing at pace, and wingmen able to beat a man and get to the by-line. And John B on his page headlined with “We are still a hungry and ambitious club.” Sorry John but I nearly choked on my kit kat. Like many, many others I’ll believe that when I see Dyche given the funds to totally revamp the current very average squad. I hope he ships half of them out; if he thinks this same team are OK we’re in for a horrible season next time round. Their limitations were fully displayed yet again against Cardiff. I’ll know that ambition has returned when I’m seeing new and exciting signings that give me some hope of a top six place. With the last wedge of parachute money next season comes the last chance of anything resembling ambition. After that the club is in exactly the same place it was in 2008.
And: John B also pointed to the club investing heavily in the scouting infrastructure to find “the young players that fit into the Burnley growth strategy. “ “Growth strategy”, there’s another bit of speak that belongs to the Stock Market. But, the problem is, if the big clubs hoover up all the best available talent just what is the point of having a youth policy at all, and channelling precious money that way. And then if you do find a gem and polish it the big clubs can just take them away with a derisory payment.
Burnley perked up a bit in the second half with Paterson injecting a bit of verve. Truth is; it was an odd kind of game. Burnley had far less of the possession and skill but made by far the better chances, few as they were. Marney was most definitely brought down. We were right in line with it and were astonished when the pen was not given. “Too theatrical,” said the pundits. But if a bloke is running at pace and a big gorilla stands on his foot, how on earth is he supposed to fall down other than flat on his face with his arms all over the place. Ings might have scored with a terrific snap shot but we gasped with frustration when it was saved. And Cardiff for all their possession and movement and dominance never looked like scoring other than the one goal they scored. Grant had little to do all game. Wallace was lucky not to see a red card for things that went unnoticed by the referee. It was a mercy to him and us when he was hooked.
Overall it was a deserved scoreline despite the gap in class and possession percentages and amazingly when that equaliser went in there was no thought of just hanging on for the draw and booting it anywhere or winding down the clock; there was a real desire to go on and get the winner. It was Cardiff who sat back and waited for the final whistle.
This has been yet another stop/start season for Burnley; it’s easy to feel disappointed, certainly frustrated, with the way things have gone since Laws was appointed in January 2010. There has been a slow but remorseless decline in interest; excitement has all but disappeared. “Death by a thousand cuts,” someone said. The Laws appointment was a disaster and when the news broke supporters and players were astonished. Howe ticked all the boxes but was a fish out of water up here in the frozen north, yet look what he’s done since;. The jury is out on Sean Dyche. This same squad of players at the club now will not become a promotion chasing bunch during the summer. It needs surgery, injections of pace, movement and flair; and that’s where the “ambition” comes in. I was still asking the same question this week as last; is this a capable squad but underperforming because of a struggling manager? Or is Dyche a good manager hamstrung by mediocre players who are as good as they’ll ever get? To answer the first question you’d need a ‘Coyle’ type to see if he could get them playing any better. To answer the second you’d need to give Dyche a decent budget to get better players. For that, perhaps you’d need those mythical Russians. And then you wonder if war and a takeover bid will break out in the summer between Brendan Flood on the one side, and Mike Garlick and Clive Holt on the other.
The Burnley fans were generous with their applause and recognition at the end for Cardiff as the departing coaches drove by the ranks of Burnley fans waving and applauding. It was a treat to see and hear their players’ and fans’ jubilation and celebrations at the end. We experienced the euphoria and then the anticipation ourselves back in 2009. A bit of me was tinged with envy as we waited in the car park afterwards. I loved our year in the limelight and occasionally leaf through the scrapbooks I kept; we have so very little to show for it other than exactly that – scrapbooks, old programmes and fading memories.
It’s a horrifying thought but without Edgar’s timely goal, and Grant’s penalty save, we might, next season have been taking out our Championship scrapbooks. The dogfight ended with that 90th minute goal – I think.