Ah, Burnley. In many ways the Lancashire equivalent of one of those beautiful Mediterranean hillside towns you get in travel documentaries that are all valleys, sunshine, grapevines and terracotta tiles.
Oh, how we laugh. No, but seriously, when I was a kid, I remember driving through Burnley at night and deciding it looked like an absolutely amazing place with the glittering street lights clinging to the dark slopes. It seemed so exotic to my child's eyes. 'When I grow up' I told my Dad, 'I will live here'
Like many childhood dreams, it never came true. Maybe that's for the best.
On the way across, I ignore the motorway for a bit and drive through back road East Lancashire - Driving can be a dream state and music gives a rhythm to the landscape as it undulates in time to the sounds from my speakers. Images flash past. Gritty grey stone cottages on exposed hilltops. Occasionally a breathtaking panorama. Down below vast estates of Victorian terracing and then latter day social housing flood the valley bottom like a reservoir of humanity. Broken down mill buildings, now MOT centres and gyms with misspelled signage. Car showrooms and roundabouts.
A jogger wiping shit from his shoe, his moment of fleeting escape from his mortal coil spoiled by a stinking reminder of mundane grimness. Everywhere, signs telling you how great Burnley is and imploring you to work, eat, play, enjoy Burnley!. Almost as if it might not be that great really. The oldest person I've ever seen with a topknot, if not 70, not a day under 69. Suntanned, with bleached yellow hair scraped into a man bun with union jack shorts on. Fair play to the lad. Buildings with exposed roof timbers skeletal against the changeable sky. Chimneys everywhere.
I know it's not allowed, but nonetheless, I actually quite like Burnley. It's just so, well, resolutely Burnley. It's the kind of place people from leafier places turn their nose up at that actually contains more soul and character than they could ever grasp. Literally everyone appears to be going to the game. The Beehole end once held 20k on its own. For what is not much more than a moderate sized town, that's mental. Enough of this. I think I'm going soft. I am, of course, contractually obliged to describe it as a mill town dump full of six fingered types...
The team. As we expected but... The Mountie. In midfield. We'll see. A certain number 14 is on the bench.
We're off. The Mountie isn't in midfield. What is this team? Why is Bowler in midfield or up front or whatever he is? This is weird. I feel disorientated.
Long ball. Rodriguez with a nice touch. Some other lad has it. It's ok, he's got people to beat yet... FUCK OFF. What the fuck was that? An absolute belter from miles out that curled away past Grimshaw leaving him clutching at air like a climber hoping for a miracle on a fatal fall from an Everest cliff face. That was superb. It was them though, so I can't appreciate it.
C'mon POOL!!!!
Again they come up the middle. FUCKING HELL. That one was like we just let them score. What is this? We just stood off whilst they played about and chipped a little nippy fella in to tuck it away. Are we actually here? Are we going to do anything in the game other than shuttle about and then let Burnley score every 10 minutes? Fuck's sake. They're singing Burn-e-ly which has always irritated me as I don't understand why they don't just sing a two syllable version to a different tune.
Now they're just knocking in triangles and we're chasing shadows. Kenny is sprawling into tackles and missing. Jerry is haring about on his own up front but getting nowhere. Grimmy looks flustered every time we knock it back to him. It's going to be a long day. They politely let us know that we should probably go home and I consider it. More triangles. Even the keeper is playing them. Here he goes. Hang on... There centre back is mugged (quite politely) by the Mountie. He's on his own in the box. He's going to blaze this wide. I can tell. It will end up in the second tier of the stand. Time seems to stand still... YESSSSSS! He's rifled it into the bottom corner, turned and just run back to position like he does this all the time. How we needed that...
We get a little bit more going on. Connolly nips, Lavery charges. Bowler is struggling a bit in the middle but he runs a little, lays a nice ball wide. Marvin makes a gorgeous crunching tackle. This is better. The ball is worked across the box, Yates is the spare man, the keeper is lost, he just needs to hit it. He controls and tries to dribble. He's trying to walk things in at the moment. He needs a goal. Lavery needs a goal too and he does the opposite of Jerry when he's left spare with the goal gaping, snatching at a golden chance and the ball squirms wide. He just can't get a break...
The subs warm up. Gaz is doing a bit of coaching. He's basically on the pitch. He catches the ball, he throws it back. He walks on to the field cos he's Gaz and he does what he wants and has a word with Jordan Gabriel. Jimmy runs past him as if to say 'what's he doing now, the big idiot?'
Then calamity. More quick interchanges and dangerous ball lifted in from the right, Lavery reads it well and gets a crucial toe end to it. Gabriel is there to clear but... Gabriel slips and they're in. Marvin throws himself at it but all he achieves is to deflect the shot over Grimmy. It's a punch to the stomach and it knocks all the air out of everyone.
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Some days the other team just seem bigger and better than you. This is one of those days. I just hope we don't turn on them. Burnley are millions of quid better than us and it shows. At least the drive over was nice.
The subs languidly knock a ball about. It's like they're just doing it cos they're bored. Gaz and Jimmy knock it between themselves and then walk back to the dugout like two housewives having a bitch.
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No changes. We're better though. The pressing is more systematic rather than just one hyperactive striker doing it on his own. Bowler is finding a little bit of a pocket of space as well now. They really do look shaky at the back... A run up the middle from Bowler, a lay off, a cross from Lavery, over everyone. Better. A run from Bowler after some sublime control. He's going, he's cut down. It's a free kick right on the edge of the box. Connolly is going to drill this. You can tell from the way he's stood. Jerry is being a right nuisance, just stood in front of the keeper. The ref tells him he's offside. Jerry looks at him like that's the stupidest thing anyone has ever said. Here comes Connolly, but instead Bowler just kisses it and it arrows at the bottom corner. How can you hit it that hard with barely any backlift? I really think it's in for a second but the keeper manages to see through Jerry and tip it round. Even better.
We've got a free kick wide. This is made for one man. Here he is. Corbeneu is the man to make way, much to his surprise. He's scored and done ok, but he's also done some things that are literally identical to what CJ would do in the same situation... The Goal Machine runs on. Most of the second half he's been warming up as close as he can humanly get to the pitch and he wastes no time getting all tangled up with his marker, throwing him off in that controlled but dangerously explosive way about that he has when he's up for it. Nothing comes of it, but we're going for this. Yates, Bowler, Lavery and Madine all on the same pitch.
Is this desperate or can we make this work? A ball in, Madine on the turn drags it wide... Applause. A ball across the box, Gary slides in, Jerry can't turn it home. Noise.. C'mon! Another bit of football. Jerry gets bollocked by Bowler for not passing it to him. The irony! We've got it going now. Fucking hell Lavery. He's somehow turned a chance to shoot into a moment of pure black comedy as he's just lofted it nowhere near anything. He looks very fed up. Someone behind me calls him absolutely shite. C'mon... C'MON!!! Up the middle, Madine with one of those fucking genius little flick lay offs that change the direction of play. Bowler with a slide rule pass. Gabriel, going at his man. Gabriel still going, Gabriel has taken too long surely over this. NOOOO! He's only stubbed it across goal and SHAYNE LAVERY HAS SCORED!!! YESSSSSSSS!
It's all gone quiet over there!
Subs. Lots of subs. Jimmy, CJ, Sonny on. Gabriel and Lavery go off having just made a goal and Dom Thompson goes too. He's had a bit of a run around today with them picking out diagonals into the space behind him. C'mon... CJ, Sonny, Madine, Yates and Bowler now on the same pitch. This is even braver.
CJ is in immediately. Saved... Corner. Sonny can take a decent corner. It hangs, it drops. Dougall hacks it goalward and time slows down as Jerry has the easiest finish but he's not finished anything for ages, but the. ball. is. going. in. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
FUCKING YES!!!! Jerry fucking Yates!!!!! YESSSS! There's a vacuum opened up and I'm sucked inside it. My ears are ringing. There's so much noise and yet no noise. I can hear myself and yet I can't. I'm hugging and I'm jumping and yet I'm outside my own body. Fucking hell. Jerry sprints right across the front of the fans. Blackpool's number 9. Have you ever wanted a player to score as much as Jerry?
I need a moment. I need to sit down. I need to stand up. I need to sing. I have no breath. I have nothing left and yet I am more alive than I've felt for ages. Wow.
We're still coming... the ball is with us. All that chat about Burnley being this possession side who will just have us chasing about and now they can't get it off us. Bowler tries his luck from the edge of the box, the keeper is squarely behind it. Bowler then with a little weave and slips in Jerry. Yates does the thing he hasn't done for ages that he does when he's on it and feints, sending the defender and buying space and he thrashes it at the spot just inside the far post, the keeper sprawls, the ball spins up and falls, it's falling and it's not quite dropping in. It was nearly a goal twice. I'm smacking the seat in front of me...
C'mon!!! A corner. The ball bounces about, it won't sit... They break. We're lost here... Shit... Carey is haring back and taking out his man. It's cynical but it was needed. We'll take the booking all day. Whilst Carey turns to the ref to say 'I played the ball!' (he didn't) the offended Maatson gets up and launches himself full body slam style into Carey who is thrown to the ground so hard he literally bounces. It's gone mad. Marvin is pushing Maatson away by his thoat, Connolly is grappling. Most of the two teams are locked in a fucking brilliant scrap. Graeme Souness would probably expire in erotic joy if he saw this. Loads of men. At it. Gaz just wanders about and kicks the turf. Far too cool for this nonsense.
A red! Yes! Hang on. What this? What the fuck? He's sent Carey off? Why? For inciting Maatson? That's not how it works! You don't get a red card cos the other player clotheslined you now do you? Carey stalks off, his face red as his hair. That wasn't a red card. Maatson goes too. His was. Now what? Jesus... CJ is in central midfield. I feel nauseous. Somehow we get by long enough to send on a sub. The heroic Yates comes off. I'd say he's run his arse off, but that doesn't come close. Virtue is on to go in the middle and let CJ go wide.
8 minutes. It's like drowning or being stuck in a dream where you know you are asleep but you can't wake up and you're running away from a giant monster made out of an old piano that makes horrible doomish out of tune sounds that get louder and louder but no matter how hard you run, you don't move. C'mon POOL! C'mon.
Gaz is pressing. He really is pressing. We keep winning it and then losing it. We slice clearances. We head things but they don't seem to go very far. Grimmy should claim one, but Marv takes it instead and shanks it way up into the air and it's back with them. Grimmy comes and punches. They keep coming. Grimshaw stops it. Williams heads away. Husband heads away. Husband heads away again. The fella behind me is counting down in every break in play. 5 minutes 50 left. 3 minutes 25 left. 50 seconds left. A ball in. Please no. It's away... We break. We run out of steam. Gaz chases. He can't make it, they get it back. It just seems to last forever. 8 minutes seems 3 times the length... How long now...?
YESSSSSSSSS!
I am exhausted. Unreal. Gaz and Jerry are loving it. Jerry is saying to Gaz about the missed chance. Gaz shows him how he'd have finished. They have their arms draped round each other. Michael Appleton seems to melt away at the end of the game. We serenade them all. We serenade Jordan Gabriel cos he's Jordan Gabriel. Ooh. Ah... They drift away. We sing some more.
Then we float home....
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I don't think I can do a meaningful postmortem. It was incredible. We really could have won the game. Burnley scored with their first 3 shots and thereafter, we really were the better side. Bowler was excellent when released wide and he's such a good player when there's more than just him to worry about. Playing him central was a canny idea that didn't quite work, but it was really when we threw more attackers on and let him do what he does that we prospered. I am thrilled for Yates of course, but also for Lavery. He's such a mixed bag at the moment, some awful luck, some woeful finishing over several games, but also some really good stuff and he deserves that goal just for keeping getting there and keeping going and it will hopefully bring him a bit more composure, let him believe he can take his time, pick a spot, back himself. Jerry though, well, what can I say? If you don't enjoy Jerry scoring, then you are clinically dead.
Gary Madine changes games. We're averaging a goal every 39.3 mins with him on the pitch (fact of the week). Keep him hungry, keep him onside, keep him feeling loved but just a little tiny bit angry. He'll change many more games like that. I could go on. I'm too tired. I love what we're trying to be. Fearless, bold, brave. What else is there to say? Fucking Tangerine Wizards. I love them.
Football. Fucking hell. Wow.
Onward!
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I don't think I can do a meaningful postmortem. It was incredible. We really could have won the game. Burnley scored with their first 3 shots and thereafter, we really were the better side. Bowler was excellent when released wide and he's such a good player when there's more than just him to worry about. Playing him central was a canny idea that didn't quite work, but it was really when we threw more attackers on and let him do what he does that we prospered. I am thrilled for Yates of course, but also for Lavery. He's such a mixed bag at the moment, some awful luck, some woeful finishing over several games, but also some really good stuff and he deserves that goal just for keeping getting there and keeping going and it will hopefully bring him a bit more composure, let him believe he can take his time, pick a spot, back himself. Jerry though, well, what can I say? If you don't enjoy Jerry scoring, then you are clinically dead.
Gary Madine changes games. We're averaging a goal every 39.3 mins with him on the pitch (fact of the week). Keep him hungry, keep him onside, keep him feeling loved but just a little tiny bit angry. He'll change many more games like that. I could go on. I'm too tired. I love what we're trying to be. Fearless, bold, brave. What else is there to say? Fucking Tangerine Wizards. I love them.
Football. Fucking hell. Wow.
Onward!
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