Two Points Dropped or One Step Forward?

Last updated : 05 April 2009 By Paul Rowling
Chris McCann
Chris McCann - stroked it into the empty net to give Burnley the lead
There's a real buzz about Turf Moor these days. After years of relative mediocrity we finally have something to push for. The Burnley end sold out almost a week before the game and I was left, crying into my cornflakes, without a ticket.

There have been a fair few churlish remarks about jonny-come-latelys spoiling it for us 'real' supporters but you'll hear none of that nonsense from me. If you can afford to come along and watch the Clarets then come along. The more the merrier. If you're in the ground and cheering us on then it doesn't get more 'real' than that.

I managed to get in the ground but it wasn't the enjoyable afternoon it should have been. I was in the stinking home end. Surrounded by Derbyshire accents and blinkered simpletons. Trying to blend in. It's a draining experience.

Elliott starts off in a lively fashion and is up-ended by the moronic Savage. It's as blatant as you like but everyone around me is grumbling and shouting insanity, "Free kick? He tripped over the ball!" The referee must have heard though; he realises his error and refuses to book Savage. Evidently some sort of mix-up.

Get up, Elliott and stop falling to the ground every time somebody scythes you down. The first chance falls to Derby - Teale hits a fierce shot which is parried away well by Beast for a corner. Everyone around me is standing up. It's a good opportunity to stand up and stretch my legs. "Oooooooh! That was close."

Damn, the chap next to me is expecting a response. It's OK though, I'm fully prepared. I'm wearing a white top: The power of suggestion. Smile politely and nod.

Burnley break forward with Eagles. He runs at McEveley and looks dangerous but the stocky left-back gets across him and smothers him. Eagles tries it on, smacking into McEveley's ample frame and flopping to the floor like a flounder. It's not very helpful to my delicate situation. Everyone is up on their feet again, "Cheat! Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!"

It's not very helpful to his own situation either when later on McEveley goes right through him. The referee remembers though and waves it away. "Play on Ref! We know he's a diving cheat!" I bite my lip.

Burnley look to be getting on top and Robbie Blake swings in a teasing free kick. Nobody gambles on it but Derby are panic stricken at the back and scurry it away for a corner. I can hear the roar of the massed Burnley contingent as we sense blood.

The corner comes in and Carlisle hits the bar, it bounces around, Derby fail to clear and it falls to Williams whose shot is unfortunately too close to the keeper who is able to tip it over. Oooooohh. Don't say a word.

I'm suddenly too far forward on my seat. Everyone else is sat back looking anxious. I breath in tensely through my teeth. Acting is not my strong point. Time to sit on my hands.

Derby come back into the game. They have the majority of possession and the game is played out further into our half. Despite it all there are few clear cut chances. Everything is dealt with tidily by Carlisle and Caldwell. Alexander is his usual effective self, much like Savage for Derby but without the violence.

There's not much cause for concern but the Derby crowd are stirred by their brief spell. There is a constant murmur of noise around me although nobody expects an atmosphere to break out. You can never be sure how you sound from the other end but I can tell all of you who made the trip yesterday - you did the boys proud.

It's an odd sensation sitting in the wrong end. The people around me are all morons. From the comments I hear they're not even watching the same game. "Well played Savage!" Yeah, right. "There's not much between the top and bottom teams..." If it makes you feel better, mate. It feels like I'm watching Corrie with the sound down whilst someone plays The Archers over the radio.

Half time comes and my nerves are shot to threads. Stay in my seat and read the programme, don't make eye contact and it might be OK.

The second half begins and my worst fears are realised. I'm making notes for my match report and the eijit next to me mutters broad Derbyshire down my ear, "What are ya writing there? Are ya press or summet, Duck?" Drat. Don't let him know I'm a Burnley fan. It's not for Clarets Mad. Don't panic. Give him the cover story.

"It's for Derby University. Erm, for their Student's Union magazine." That should sort thicko. I look away. Conversation over, Duck.

Burnley break down the right. Eagles plays a neat one-two and Derby's well drilled defence are stretched. Eagles' cross is disappointing though - straight to the keeper. A wave of relief from all around me and then - disaster! There's a fumble of defender and keeper and it fall to McCann to stroke into the empty net.

Yessssssssssss! Bite my lip. Stay quiet. Try to stop the corners of my mouth curling up. Make a note for the report, 59 minutes - McCann: Goal. Get in there. It's agony and ecstasy.

The game seems won. Derby don't have a thing to offer. They look well organised and fairly solid but what they make up for in determination, they lack in quality. But now they have to try and look for an equaliser and whenever they attack, their shape stretches to breaking point.

Blake almost betters his goal against Plymouth with a dipping volley that whizzes past the keeper but can only find the side netting. McCann has a free header from a corner but is unlucky to see it hit an unwitting defender. A flowing move of passes culminates in Blake being presented with a golden opportunity to shoot. Uncharacteristically, he fluffs it but the Clarets still appear to be heading for victory.

The away support grows more and more vocal. The songs drift over loud and clear. Keep it up boys. Burn-e-ley! Burn-e-ley! Burn-e-ley! The ground is immersed in Lancashire voices. The home crowd are drowned out and despondent.

For all the world it looks as though we'll be going away with three deserved points. The home end empties and I start to relax as my white-clad companions drift away. Unfortunately, Burnley do the same - a break down the left, the cross is perfectly placed and the unmarked Connolly heads past Beast. Noooooo. There is a clamber as the Rams fans about-turn and herd back into their seats.

I am surrounded by cheering and whooping idiots. "Yesssssss! We deserved that you know. Played them off the park. Come on Derby, there's time for a winner!"

Evidently football is a matter of opinions. However, some things are self evident: Burney picked up a point away from home. We're a point closer to the play-offs. And sitting in the wrong end is hard work.