By Friday 12th, just days later, they certainly were when Brendan Flood responded not via twitter, but by the Lancashire Telegraph. And this wasn’t just a light jab on the chest or a gentle playground shove; this was a Rocky Marciano uppercut. You couldn’t really say David Hayes; it was better than that.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not making light of it or make fun, it is serious, and this public spat is certainly damaging to the club. But there was one post I liked on the Clarets Mad message board when a poster suggested that this would hang over the club and become more of a focus than what’s happening on the field. The reply was pure quality:
“Why – what’s happening on the field?”
And then absolute class: “What we need is a global advisor.”
And what prompted all this? Flood had explained in the Telegraph that he felt he had been “forced” out of the club. Barry Kilby and John B were supportive of his wish to remain on the board, he said, and despite possessing an IVA; this had been a possibility with special permission from the Football League. But having talked to the Football League and been advised by them that he could meet the Conduct Committee; it became clear, he said, that Mike Garlick and Clive Holt did not support him. To cut the story short, it was at that moment, at the January board meeting, that Flood decided he had no wish to work with them any longer.
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| Our Austin - but he's had his appendix out |
Flood was quite specific. “I didn’t get on with Clive Holt and Mike Garlick. I don’t quite understand their agenda…. I don’t want to work with them… I won’t work with them again, whatever happens… apart from the Rovers game, I haven’t been to a match since.” If we were intrigued by the earlier Garlick statement; then this one was simply astonishing, almost ferocious. Yet, curiously, this bombshell caused less of a stir than the original Mike Garlick statement, and when discussed on the Clarets Mad message board fairly quickly turned into a discussion about the merits of the two newest stands at Burnley, the building of which had been the result of the requirement to make stadiums all-seater. By and large they are badly designed was the general consensus; neither of them for example provides decent shelter from bad weather, the James Hargreaves upper concourse is a rugby scrum when there is a big crowd. Mind you, I’ve also sat under the Emirates roof, and well recall the soaking me and Mrs T got there during one game. But at the time, it has to be said, the two stands were all that Burnley FC could afford during a period when as ever, the club had minimal resources and the alternative was not much more than bolting seats on terraces.
All of that was on Friday the 12th and suddenly we realised, there was another distraction the next day. There was a game at Blackpool.
The Bloomfield Road pitch was described as fit only for speedway. Bloomless Road might be a better name. Why don’t they just erect four temporary stands on the beach – it couldn’t be worse was the general consensus. Nor could the result, a 0–1 defeat, a result that brought a depressing end to a week the like of which we have not seen at Burnley for a long, long time. The comments were wide ranging describing the second half as “awful”, “the worst Burnley performance I’ve seen…” or a “ding-dong battle.”
“Woeful second half performance from Burnley, posed no threat whatsoever,” tweeted Chris Boden of the Burnley Express. “A rubbish game of football on a pub-league pitch,” was another one. Whilst Burnley lost, Blackburn and Leeds won. Whatever the opinions it was settled by a super-strike that whistled in from 20 yards.
After the win over Bristol there were few thoughts of relegation. But after the Blackpool game, again we glanced down to the bottom end, five points above it and with just the faintest twinges of what-if… especially with three difficult games to follow and knowing things can change so much in the space of three games. The most chilling reaction after Blackpool was: “There’s a big sledgehammer called relegation waiting to smack the manager and his ‘group’ in the face. And if they dodge it this season, there’s always next.’ Each week a few more fans are beginning to worry and think the same.
The first of the three was Leeds United rejuvenated by their win over Sheffield Wednesday. Years ago when Jimmy Adamson took over there the Leeds United job was described as a sort of Sargasso Sea where managers just disappeared. Jimmy certainly did, just like others before him, and others afterwards. Since Jimmy they have had some success, but also huge disasters. I still think Revie haunts the place. It’s a name that will just not go away.
You might have put money on Warnock sorting them out but he failed. The things that have gone on behind the scenes there of late probably wore him out just as much as by the end he had worn out the fans. Blogs are wonderful things and in one Leeds blog the situation for any new manager coming in was described as similar to running into a burning house wearing a shell suit while the rest of the street watched.
Meanwhile we in sunny Burnley always manage to find satisfaction in any discomfort and strife at Leeds. It’s a historical thing since the early 60s when they came over the Pennines and kicked us black and blue (most other teams too). At Blackburn we just love the pantomime goings-on; we revel in their current absurd situation. We reckon to have a thing going with Blackpool too but I’m not sure we do really; all that’s happened is that since PNE have disappeared from the radar , Blackpool have artificially replaced them as local rivals. But no: it’s Blackburn and Leeds whose predicaments really keep us entertained. It’s OK at Blackburn though they can throw chickens on the pitch either in fun or in protest. What you throw on the pitch when an Arab buys your club is a bit more difficult – a camel… a box of dates… an oil well…
In truth, even though I live in Leeds, I don’t buy a local paper and don’t know the details of what’s going on. Apparently, someone from the Middle East bought them, they were going to do great things, they were going to pump money in, buy top new players, but they haven’t and now they are already starting to sell the holdings they bought, 10% already I think. If Leeds fans thought that huge cash injections were going to rocket them up the table – then it just hasn’t happened – and Warnock presumably saw the writing on the wall (or maybe was gently pushed) and left the burning building to finish the last chapters of his book in balmy Cornwall. Who can blame him?
Discomfort and strife at Leeds was temporarily suspended more or less as soon as Burnley arrived. Discomfort at Blackburn was eased just a little when they won as well. From being in a position where we could happily chuckle at them both, the boot now was on the other foot after the limp, tame, poverty-stricken Burnley performance at Elland Road. Home by 10 or just after, beef sandwiches, coffee and an episode of Broadchurch expunged the memory of as toothless a performance as you’ll see for a decade.
As we trudged disconsolately away from the ground it would take a blind man on a galloping horse not to recognise that Burnley were now on the brink of a truly remarkable achievement; from Prem to Division One in three seasons, whilst bankrolled to the tune of over £90million. This is a club where unless the whole lot of ‘em, from chairmen, through boardroom to management, through players right through to outside left, need to wake up, smell the coffee, get a grip and stop drifting towards the inevitable. If by some miracle relegation is avoided this season, then next season it is a certainty with the combination of this bunch of players.
I told a fib, the sandwiches, coffee and Broadchurch did not erase the memory of the limp-lettuce display. I cogitated. (And yes I know you can get arrested in public but this was in my living room) and could not decide if this is a poor manager failing to get the best from a reasonable bunch of players; or just poor players that no manager would inspire. I could have tied myself in knots but once in bed I had a quick epiphany before I nodded off. It’s both.
I went to the game because it was on my doorstep. It was nice meeting up with faces that we used to see a lot on away games. It was not so nice seeing the goons in purple jackets… quick response team I think they said on the back. They were big, shaped like barrels, shaven headed, and square jawed. By quick response I presumed they were ex SAS lads/part time bouncers whose job was to leap into the Burnley end and drag out troublemakers. I asked one if I could see his identification. He pulled out a tattoo that said Neanderthal Club. I’m not being facetious but maybe we could do with a few of them in the team.
It was nice when it was all over if only to stop the pain. It was like going to the dentist or a bit of flagellation. It’s grand when it stops. It was funny in the pub before the game. There’s this handy pub about 10 minutes away with a big car park and that’s where we had a brandy and some painkillers before the game. Surrounding Leeds fans talked of would they win, Burnley were a decent side, they had Charlie Austin and this would be a tough game. Mrs T and I looked at each other ‘cos the way we were playing we knew different. And anyway Charlie had been taken away to have his appendix out. He didn’t miss much.
Leeds weren’t the greatest side in the world but they gave Burnley a lesson; a lesson in first to the ball determination, accuracy of passing, movement, effort, purpose, sharpness and agility. They were not the biggest side I’ve seen whilst Burnley are slowly morphing into a team of six footers. But size doesn’t always matter. If it did, Barcelona would be bottom of their division. It was settled with a stroke of genius from Diouf who chipped an exquisite dink over the two statuesque Burnley defenders and between the two of them Austin (theirs not ours) ghosted in like the Invisible Man and slipped the ball home.
It was only a 1–0 defeat but that simply disguised how poor Burnley were. It might have been a kindness if it had been a 6–0 tanking so that any illusion that this is a side that is ‘nearly there’ or where ‘the balance is almost right’ or a ‘work in progress’ would be blown out of the water. The slide that has been so utterly remorseless since that heady place in the table of 7th has been relentless; two wins in 15 games. Something somewhere is wrong.
We talked on the way home of remaining fixtures and who plays who. We decided it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that Burnley could lose all three final games and still stay up. And if that happens then we decided that in the summer there needs to be a complete change of attitudes, philosophy and priorities on the field. McCann and Marney will easily find deals at other clubs; Austin may well be sold. Paterson may feel he is worth more elsewhere as BFC offer reduced deals to them all. Who’d want to stay at Burnley anyway as a kind of malaise grips the place, a malaise of indifference and drift. The excitement of looking forward to a game has gone. Where are the heroes? Meanwhile behind the scenes in the halls of administration and the corridors of the decision makers the place fills up with more appointments… the latest has the title ‘support services manager’. I thought we were skint.
Skint: we soon will be if League One becomes our new home. A point at home against Cardiff is essential. I’ve bought three season tickets. I bought them for Championship football. We need to roar these lads on, on Saturday, lift them up a level, get them into top gear. Division One – it’s just bloody unthinkable.