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| Put Andre Amougou at centre forward |
Apparently the most exciting bits are Wayne Rooney breaking a snooker cue because he lost a game of snooker against John Terry; the players smuggling nandos into the training camp because the food was so boring; and Capello telling Walcott, “I weeeeeel keeeeeel you eeeeef you cut eeeeenside again.” It is a chilling thought that there will be another 250 pages of stuff like this (150 if we’re lucky). Some time ago Walcott put his name to a children’s book. Presumably someone else wrote it. It looks like his new book: Theo Walcott, Growing up fast, is another one. I wonder if Chapter One is about the Tellytubbies, In theMidnight Garden and Igglepiggle.
Forgive me for plugging Roger Eli’s forthcoming book, (oh well go then give it a mention), but at least here is a book with some real stories, some real heartache, some real insights into what went on at not just Burnley, but at Leeds United early on in his career, and of course it’s the story of a player who was player of the season and scorer of goal of the season in what many think was Burnley’s most significant promotion.
At last Gawthorpe has changed. At last it’s a real centre for the players with changing rooms and all the facilities you would expect at this level of football. I remember visiting the place some years ago with Margaret Potts and Arthur Bellamy because she had never ever been there, believe it or not. Harry was always promising that one day he would show her round but never got round to it. Steve Cotterill warmly welcomed her but the image that sticks is seeing a bunch of first-teamers covered in mud, sweat and grime climb into someone’s car, still in their boots and filthy training kit, to drive back to Turf Moor for a shower and some lunch. The word primitive sprang to mind. When Gawthorpe was first created it was a ‘first’. By the time of Wembley 2009 it was an outdated relic hosting less than enamoured players. To attract good new players you have to have modern-day facilities. Gawthorpe and the re-vamped indoor centre at Turf Moor now provide them. If we wonder where the money has gone, for sure that’s where some of it went.
The ‘new’ Gawthorpe and the new signings do seem to represent a sense of purpose that is slowly emerging. Whether it succeeds and hits the target is anybody’s guess. We’ve been punch-drunk by the sales of players; the exodus of the unwanted, and the gloom of the financial forecasts. Maybe that has masked the behind the scenes work that has gone on. My mole tells me that it is seen as a two season process; that this season is the development of a group of players that can challenge next season.
But supporters can be forgiven for feeling disillusioned. When the Cardiff game was played, then Barnet, we were just two years on from that great night when we beat Man Utd. Even if we are a ‘little’ club’, fans asked is this really what we expected, and where we expected to be. Of course it’s early days, but fourth from bottom, is this what we thought? The win was mentioned many times on all the BFC websites. What a win it was, headlined all over the world. The decline from that fabulous night and then Coyle’s walk-out has been relentless. One fan summed up the situation:
‘People are just getting past the point of caring as much at the minute. Coyle’s defection, the appointment of Laws, the retention of Laws, the too-late sacking of Laws all combined to make 2010 an annus horribilis. The appointment of Howe gave a spark of hope that we were back on some sort of track, but the events of the summer have put paid to that.
We’ve had a statement basically telling the rest of the league that everyone is available for transfer, we’ve seen two of last season’s best players go for (albeit sound) financial reasons, we’ve seen another sold for reasons that make little sense for football or financial reasons, we’ve seen a lack of permament notable incomings, and an overwhelming sense that the club is not just going backwards but actively looking to do so. The retrenchment policy currently in full swing makes you think we’ve given up on any sign of forward progress and are just looking to save some resources so we can tread water a bit longer.
It’s getting to the point where you almost dread logging onto here, Claretsmad, Twitter, for wondering who the next player linked with an exit is going to be. Christ knows how Howe is keeping as cheerful as he is, his heart must sink every time his mobile goes. Losing Ings so shortly after Paterson wasn’t so much the cherry on the cake as the dangleberry on a sh*t sandwich. If it weren’t for bad luck he’d have no luck at all.
Different reasons, but too many more knockbacks on this season (especially self-inflicted) and my enthusiasm for this season will end up at almost Cotterillesque proportions. It wasn’t meant to be this way two years after beating Man United.
Perhaps the only bit of luck that Burnley has had was the doubling of parachute payments to four years. Had they remained at the old level it’s not inconcievable that by the end of this season Burnley might be in just a big a financial mess as they were three years ago.
Nonetheless we headed over from Leeds for the Barnet game, an 80 mile round trip. Fortunately now we have chums who have recently moved to the Towneley area so we invited ourselves for tea. It made a game that we struggled to win just that bit more enjoyable, largely because the bottle of wine I consumed, (Mrs T drove), probably kind of blurred the game that was on offer. As a result of the alchohol I thought it was a fabulous game, with thrills, spills, ebbing to and fro, end to end stuff, hatfuls of chances and edge of the seat stuff. Godammit we even had the bonus of an extra 30 minutes. What more can you want?
I have a feeling though that watching Burnley this season will require quite a few stiff drinks.
Two years after beating Man U, the situation is that we struggled to beat what in the olde worlde days would have been a Fourth Division side. It was a salutory experience to watch them carve us open time and again with pace, flair and superb movement as they got into the game more and more. Their equaliser with minutes to go was thoroughly deserved.
The problem is, basically we have a leaky defence so that yes we can create chances (and miss most of them) and score twice; but at the other end concede goals for fun. “Derby will put 6 past this lot,” the old bloke muttered as we headed down the stairs afterwards.
“And all we do is buy forwards,” said his mate.
To be fair to our brave lads had chances been taken (by both sides) this game would have ended something like 8–4. Four different Burnley players missed four sitters. The 4,000+ dedicated Clarets groaned each time. And, when Elliott was bundled over in the box, of course the referee waved play on. The Barnet lads went wild when they scored their second. Their fans went into overdrive, bless ‘em all 50 of them. In truth they can be proud of their team and its performance.
In the first half Burnley wove patterns, attacked in style, and stroked the ball around, (Mrs T called it messing about, she’s probably right), putting moves together as delicate and skilled as Flemish embroidery. Actually I’ve no idea about Flemish embroidery but it sounds good. One goal was scant reward. But then in the second half when Elliot scored a lovely goal after slicing through the middle of the Barnet defence; that was the signal not for a deluge, but for the dross to begin, for Burnley to fade, and Barnet to attack at will. Suddenly it was Barnet who looked like the Championship side with a left winger, number 20 I think, who I’d sign tomorrow if I was Eddie Howe. And then when Steve Kabba came on Burnley had no answer to his pace. Was it not Kabba who ran us ragged in a game at Grimsby years ago when the score was something daft like 6–5 and the blessed Stan was manager.
Even under the cosh Burnley made chances and squandered them. Duff had gone off injured so on came the ponderous Edgar in preference to Amougou; explanation needed please. Hines missed, Edgar missed, McCann missed when it would have been easier to score and put us out of our misery. There were plenty of other misses but not quite of the ‘sitter’ variety. Plenty of shots skidded just wide. It was Wallace who missed when clean through and only the goalkeeper to beat in the first half. And speaking of goalkeepers I would have thought that Jensen would have been given a game in this competition. We were too far away to see how their second goal went in but those nearest say that Grant again saved, but pushed the ball again to the opposition. This is becoming a habit.
So ok it was a 3–2 win; but as the wine wore off it was so obviously unconvincing. The problems glared at us; a lack of steel, the lack of a cutting edge, the lack of beef and muscle, the lack of someone up front with ‘presence’who can ruffle a few feathers, the lack of a leader who can bark and command and kick some ass. Why is it, said Mrs T, that these teams come here and always look faster and bigger and stronger. I had no answer; my mouth was full of chocolate.
Eventually in my Victor Meldrew wisdom I managed to bemoan that a good team needs a strong spine that consists of a good reliable goalkeeper, a big tough commanding centre back, a damned good mobile, aggressive central midfielder, and a big strong centre forward. “Oh”, she said, “I see, have we got any of those?”
“And oh,” I added, “When you have 18 corners you might expect to score from one of them but if they’re all lump it to the far side of the box variety, then scoring is about as likely as cheap petrol.”
With such a lucky win there was no general consensus as to man of the match or who played well or who didn’t. For me the pick were Easton, Elliott, and McCann for his last half-hour. Treacy faded, running into more and more blind alleys, after a decent first half. Trippier got forward well.
There were two things however that all were agreed upon; thank God it didn’t go to penalties. And this could be a tricky season if some of the basic problems remain unsolved. But I have a cunning plan. Put Agougou at centre forward.