It was not good news at BFC as it became a worry that the club could be a bit short of brass at the moment to pay the bills. They could always write to any one of the following for a loan:
Sam Laidlaw nearly £5million, Phil Bentley £3million, Mark Hanafin £2.5million, Nick Luff £2.5million and Chris Weston up to £3million: And no, these aren’t footballers and inflated transfer fees, these are the big gas bosses. No cash flow problems for them then I thought, as I turned the fire down a notch to economise, wrapped a blanket round my knees, and poured out the last of the hot soup from the thermos. The day after the Watford game I received a nice letter from the Dept. of Pensions. It explained a rise. Excitement turned to loud guffaws when I worked it out at a staggering £3.50 a week, the price of a Tesco Easter Egg or a glossy football magazine.
 |
| Harry Thomson with some of his 1965/66 team mates including Morgan, O’Neil, Harris, Lochhead and Irvine |
So: whilst the gas bosses pour themselves another glass of Bollinger, now reduced to £44.95 at Harrods, at BFC it’s no secret that this is the time of year when cash flow becomes a bit of a problem. The new season ticket sales money can’t come in fast enough. The last wedge of para money is tantalisingly unavailable for the minute so that the problems of April 2009 may well be happening all over again for all we know. And to make matters worse, the performances at the moment are hardly of a level to inspire 10,000 good folk to rush to the ticket office to buy a ST. It’s a problem.
There was even the story that Pato and McCann were to be loaned to Wolves as a wages saving measure; but then there was also the story a while back of Russian investment on its way, so such stories were maybe right from the outset to be treated as fanciful.
With all this in mind the decision makers decided to extend the early bird deadline for a couple of days citing the bad weather making it difficult for people. I managed to drive over from Leeds to renew mine (I had something else to do in Burnley as well) so blaming the weather seemed a bit strange. All I did was dodge the iffy roads over Widdop and Blackshawhead and the Long Causeway. A bacon sandwich at a roadside pig-out made it quite a pleasant day other than parting with a large cheque (for the tickets not the bacon sandwich). I can see the sense in extending the deadline for several days… but 48 hours seemed odd, especially as the Easter weekend effectively cut it to 24 hours.
Perhaps blaming the weather was indeed appropriate inasmuch as it makes us all so bloody miserable and fed up at the moment. Blue sky and sun perks us up, makes us glad to be alive, ready to do something daft, like going into the Halifax and shouting Santander – or like buying a season ticket. Endless grey skies and freezing temps does the opposite. Who wants to stir from the armchair when it’s cold enough to freeze the spheroids off a brass monkey? Every now and then a pic of sunny Australia comes up on the screensaver and Manly Beach beneath a cloudless blue sky. Gawd knows when I’m gonna get me ‘taties in. T’ patch is still under a foot of snow.
Astonishingly, Watford aka Xanadu, had reportedly sold out all home tickets. The day before, Burnley had sold 500 for a straightforward trip that might have sold 1,000 on a Good Friday if there was something to play for. The 500 who were there saw a cracking game however on a day when it was announced that March was the coldest month since 1963. It was a return for Sean Dyche to the club he had managed respectably until Gianfranco Zola had been brought in to oversee a team now labelled Udinese reserves and owned by the Italian Pozzo family.
Charlie scored within a minute. Watford equalised. Charlie slammed home a penalty. Watford equalised. On Sky pundit Dowie was in raptures at the excitement of an end to end first half. It was the Watford rapier versus the Burnley baseball bat. Second half and Watford went ahead. It looked odds on this would be the final score but then in injury time Vokes scored the Burnley third. Watford fans bowed their heads. It felt like a punch in the stomach said one of their bloggers. Burnley’s 500 nearly brought the roof down. If you want, and you speak and read Italian, you can see a match report on the official Udinese site.
The Nottingham Forest game was on April 1st. In Blackburn every day is April 1st. A Blackpool fan there the other day was ejected for being dressed as a chicken. Football on occasions can be such fun. Il Duce di Canio had been appointed manager at Sunderland. He’d allegedly been a fascist at Swindon and no-one seemed to bother. All he wanted was the trains to run on time. Now he was at Sunderland it was headline news and David Milliband (who) resigned as a director in protest. Mind you Milliband is also moving to a £400k job in New York – very nice thank you.
It was yet another bitterly cold day and the away end was packed. As Forest arrived the feeling was that now Burnley had 50 points surely all was safe for another year. But, over the last few weeks the bottom three, slowly but surely as Saturdays went by seemed just fractionally nearer. At first it was a healthy eleven points away after the win at Charlton, then nine, then seven, then six, then five. Good Friday results yet again didn’t help. Once upon a time we were nearer the top six than the bottom three.
Before the game there was a tribute to goalkeeper Harry Thomson a key member of a side that in 1965/66 came so close to winning the title but faded in the last month. It was the side of Coates, Morgan, O’Neil, Harris, Lochhead and Irvine. It scored goals for fun and you went to the game knowing you’d be entertained. The laying of a wreath in the goalmouth by the family was beautifully touching. Grant made some flying saves that Harry would have applauded.
And then… Er well… after the Forest game it was just 4 points away from ignominy. The slide has been so very gradual, almost imperceptible so it’s gone by almost unnoticed, but there’s been a sort of relentlessness about it since the Charlton game. Against Forest wasn’t a bad game. It wasn’t a poor performance –at least by recent standards. The first half was cat and mouse, two sides that didn’t want to concede anything, didn’t really try anything, nothing to write home about, no passion, no up and at ‘em, bordering on the sterile and predictable. It wasn’t rank but it was certainly tedious.
The second half livened up a little. Grant by now had made a couple of smart saves. By the end he’d made more and for me was MOTM. Stanislas had returned to the side and showed a bit more steel than usual. Vokes was riding shotgun with Austin. Bartley huffed and puffed in midfield. McCann made a few runs that came to naught, ditto Trippier. Mee hurt himself in a 50 50 and went off. Forest defenders were skilled in the unnoticeable little nudges in the back when going for headers so that Vokes and Austin were felled over and again. After about three hours at last the referee noticed. Austin was well held all the game. It wasn’t the worst game we’ve ever seen and astonishingly against an in-form side, we took the lead with a Stanislas shot that took a deflection. It would be churlish to say a deflection was probably the only way we’d score – but then I’m in a churlish mood so I’ll say it. Boy did we cheer it was so unexpected.
So, there we were, winning against a top six contender. Forest at that point didn’t really look like scoring. Three points seemed on their way – and then Burnley sat back, they defended deeper and deeper so that for the last 15 minutes it was all Forest and we saw what we’ve seen so often when the other side has almost complete possession, Burnley hoof it anywhere, clear it anywhere, panic, send it straight back to the opposition who build up a head of steam. And then it’s all hands to the pumps and it’s backs to the wall and all of us know we’ll concede. And we bloody did.
Sean Dyche after the game blamed the referee for playing too much added-on time. In the 6th minute of the 5 extra minutes the penalty was conceded after incessant pressure. Fingers pointed at Charlie for hoofing the ball when he could have played it to Mills or hung on to it. But in truth what Austin did was what they’d all been doing for the last quarter of an hour. It was painful to watch. We sat there knowing full well what the outcome would be. The penalty kick was the very last of the game and was smacked home with Grant going the wrong way. You could argue, and some fans did, that subbing Stanislas and bringing Edgar on gifted them another 30 seconds in added time, and this was the 30 seconds in which Long conceded the pen.
No, this was not the referee’s fault. Had Burnley won we might have felt better with the three points but it would not have masked the complete lack of pace and flair in this pedestrian side. Yet again this side could not see out a game, could not keep possession, could not keep calm, and had no-one high up to provide the out ball. (Bloody hell I’m even using jargon).
The Forest manager Billy Davies apologised to ALL fans for what he said was a poor game and an awful spectacle. Dear Billy, you should have seen some of the other stuff we’ve seen here. This, by comparison was Real Madrid versus Barcelona.
If we thought we had problems then spare a chuckle for Blackburn now joint third from bottom. And Warnock left Leeds who had lost yet again. But you shouldn’t mock the afflicted. Some people argue that there’s no such thing as a must win game, or a six-pointer. But we came down the stairs saying that bottom club Bristol were next and God help us if we lost that game. We looked at the tables and could see that the bottom end was cluttered up with any number of teams that could go down – and Burnley were certainly one.
At last the Jimmy Adamson book is done, the final interview with Brian Flynn done two days before Good Friday when top-of-the-table Doncaster were due at Coventry. They lost. It would be great to see him back at Burnley still the Doncaster manager. Just one last thing and that is to drive up to Ashington for a look around at the streets where Jimmy grew up and the museum at the site of the mine where he worked for three years. There’s a Willie Morgan book due on the same day August 1st.
On the Wing will be £16.99 for a 224 pages hardback. The Jimmy Adamson book will be £17.99 for a 272 pages hardback with a bit of a do planned in the 1882 Lounge on Thursday 15th August.