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Many Burnley fans don’t rate Paul Weller. I do. I think he’s a handy first division player, an honest player who has shown remarkable bravery in his career and who has been badly let down by sections of the Turf Moor crowd. Who is to say which of those opinions is correct, whether I am in a majority or not?
The same applies to Graham Branch. Mark McGregor may well be a better defender, and clearly most fans would rather he partnered David May. But he has limitations of pace and height, which have obviously persuaded Stan Ternent to play Branch instead. I can understand the decision, although in truth I’d be more comfortable if neither were playing centre-half.
Once more, I reiterate that everyone is entitled to an opinion. Part of the beauty of the game is the scope it holds for different opinions, different methods or tactics, all of which can achieve the desired result.
But the trouble – as with any position in the public glare – is that a football manager has to contend with any number of bystanders telling him how to do their job better, despite having no qualifications to give that judgement credibility.
Take the decision to bring Alan Moore off the bench against Norwich. Now the crowd don’t like Alan Moore. They didn’t used to like Tony Grant, but they clearly do now, because when the boards went up the dissent was obvious. Alan Moore is a target, and as such shouldn’t be utilised in any circumstances. Memo to Stan: don’t try that trick again.
It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but on reflection I could see the logic. Mo Camara hadn’t provided the width in the second half, deploying Little wide on the left hadn’t worked, so as we pushed for an equaliser, Stan opted for a genuine left winger to give balance, with Glen prompting from the centre. Another creative player when we needed a goal: sensible, even if it didn’t work.
And I’m not sure what Alan Moore has done which is so wrong. He’s like Robbie Blake or Glen Little: a flair player, better with the ball than without it. He has indifferent games, and when he’s confident he can have brilliant games. He won’t make slide tackles, though very few players do in fact make tackles, pass the ball fifty yards accurately and beat men. Those that do play for Man United or Arsenal.
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In any event, the support of the crowd is hardly the most accurate barometer of a player’s ability. Over the past three years – since we returned to the first division – the majority of the player of the year awards have been shared between Paul Weller, Dean West and Graham Branch (along with the departed Gareth Taylor last season), in that order. None were given a second chance by the boo-boys when their form dipped. Since then, all three players have suffered intolerable abuse from the crowd. I hope Robbie Blake or Tony Grant don’t befall that fate next year.
Do players actually enjoy playing at Burnley these days? It can’t be much fun for someone like Glen Little to hear his great mate Weller getting the stick he comes in for. It must be disheartening, make them wonder why they should care. And what can Alan Moore say if a friend who Stan wants to sign asks him what playing for Burnley is like? That away games can be great, but that he approaches home games with trepidation?
Last Saturday was such a great comedown after the incredible scenes at Bradford. Aside form the booing when Robbie Blake was substituted, there was not a dissenting voice all afternoon. The problem is that, remarkable as away days can be, at home games Stan Ternent’s claret and blue army can be too quick to shoot their own soldiers.
It don’t intend to debate the merits of any particular players, nor am I trying to argue that Stan Ternent is somehow untouchable. Stan is fallible, he might make mistakes and his methods may not work forever on every group of players. My point is that, over hundred decisions, his would pay dividends more often than an untrained fan. The paucity of even former semi-professional footballers (let alone those of us who haven’t risen beyond parks level) managing professional clubs may in part be due to the old-boys network within the game– but it is partly reflective of a greater understanding of the game amongst ex-pros.
We all like to think we’re experts on the game, that we know what we’re talking about. In truth, we’re none of us more than keen amateurs, like the man who knows his history from TV programmes and textbooks. We’re knowledgeable, yes. But we don’t see the game like a manager does. And sometimes, we’re better off demurring to the experts – not holding them over a barrel.