Some wins are more satisfying than others.
This was one of those.
It was an interesting day personally, being the first time I'd ever flown
to a Burnley match. An afternoon easyJet from Luton whisked me to Liverpool in next to no
time, and there was room for a few swift uns on the right side of the Mersey before
crossing into the beer free wilderness of the Wirral. With a place to crash at my
brother's in Liverpool and a flight home at a civilised hour the next day, I was always
going to have a splendid weekend, win, lose or draw. You see, over the years, we've grown
accustomed to building good days out and weekends off around Burnley away games, because
we've so rarely been able to put our trust in what might happen on the pitch. But here was
a result which lived up to the rest of the weekend: Burnley were excellent, and the win
was well deserved.
Given the starting line-up, this might seem surprising. Cooke was absent
entirely, Payton only on the bench. It seemed we were playing Branch and Mullin up front,
with the by now usual suspects in goal, defence and midfield. What was / is going on? Had
there been a falling out? Did Stan fancy Branch to have a blinder against a team for which
he is officially the worst ever player? Was the extra pace these two could offer felt
important? Whatever, we should know by now not to question the wisdom of Stan. How often
we find ourselves thinking it won't work, it shouldn’t work, but it does.
It worked at Tranmere. We started brightly, and remained the better side.
There was a lengthy spell in the first half when we simply besieged their penalty area.
Corner followed corner, and while it might not have produced as many clear cut chances as
it ought, I can't recall the last time I saw Burnley dominating possession and exerting
sustained pressure to quite the extent they did for most of the first half.
Our superiority was to produce the sort of victory that can only be
celebrated with a clenched fist punching the air. It was that kind of game. At the end, it
felt like justice had been done. This might seem a foundless thing to say, because two of
our goals came in stoppage time, one at the end of each half. But it would have been wrong
not to have won. We made all the play. It was heartening to reflect that, while we have
recently emerged from years in the depths, the side we were playing had remained in the
first division since they trounced us on our last ill-fated adventure there, and yet it
was our players who had the skill on the ball, the creativity and the imagination. Against
this, Tranmere had a single tactic: the long throw-in. And that was another part of what
made this such a satisfying win.
Because, and there’s no point putting this except in blunt terms,
Tranmere are a bunch of cheats. As Aldridge's sole strategy is to exploit the long throw
of Challinor, so their entire home set up is dedicated to maximising this threat. Ballboys
sit poised with towels, to clean and dry the ball for better grip. They always have a nice
fresh one ready for Challinor as soon as one goes out. The advertising hoardings part at
strategic points down the length of the pitch, and where they do, there are rubber mats
laid down. These are used to achieve optimum run up and power. They also have the effect
that, since throw-ins have been rehearsed, and must generally be taken from a set position
towards attackers in pre-arranged places, throws rarely come from the spot where the ball
goes out. All this is of course, pathetic, but in my view it’s also cheating. You
can’t have ball boys helping you to try to win the game. If they’re part of the
team, why not give them squad numbers? Naturally, the opposition do not receive this same
special service. They merely have to take normal throw-ins, and must therefore try to win
the game in the normal way, through kicking a ball about a pitch.
I know Tranmere are a lower division side punching above their weight, and
will therefore seek to deploy any means available to stay in the first, but I can't see
what any of this nonsense has to do with football, and I'd like to see someone tell them
to cut it out. Either that, or we could get Jeppo to run down the line and nick the
ballboys' towels. Or bring our own towels. Or our own balls. How about we all take a towel
with us next time we go to Prenton Park?
Those ballboys are going to grow up with a pretty funny understanding of
what the game's all about.
As it happened, we coped with Tranmere’s single tactic pretty well.
Defend the throws and the chances are you’ll get something. If any throw in past the
half way line is like a corner, then it helps to have players who relish the challenge of
defending them as much as Cox and Davis. They were both excellent. Time after time balls
were chucked into the box and they got on and dealt with it. Davis played above himself
here. It's hard not to single him out, because he also scored two goals. Of course, you
drop both strikers and your central defender grabs a brace. Alongside him, Cox was again
mighty. He looks a better player in a higher division. As well as defending, both central
defenders are capable of playing the ball, and they did in this game. It’s odd,
isn’t it, that Ternent is generally reckoned to be a dour exponent of the long ball
game, yet many of the players he’s signed, or persisted with, are those who like to
get the ball on the ground and beat a man.
It was hard, perhaps unfair, to pick a man of the match, because a number
of players put in excellent individual performances. Little two or three times did that
trick where he seems to turn himself inside out, which left them flummoxed. He even won a
tackle in a defensive position in the second half, although his determination to then
dribble away caused some panic. Briscoe was willing, bright, and made a precise and vital
tackle when we were floundering a bit at 2-2. This might have been his best game. Branch,
who was jeered by the home fans, looked fast and up for it, but he was too often undone by
dubious offside decisions, and of course he will hesitate when put through. Michopoulos,
as well, had a good game, blameless for both theirs. What I like about him is that he
seems so relaxed. Given the opportunity, he’ll pat down a shot and catch it on the
bounce, as if to say, ‘what, you thought that might go in?’ He looks like he
sleeps for about eighteen hours a day.
A word, too, about Paul Cook. He had an interesting week. I’ve long
been an advocate of booing at football matches when you’re not happy with something,
as it’s quite effective and there are few ways fans can get their point across. That
said, even I can’t see how you can jeer a team making a good start in a higher
division. And I thought he reacted with a lot of dignity, admitting that it hurt him but
affirming the overwhelming importance of the team. He played reasonably well. The passes
didn't always come off, and when they fails it looks awful, but some of his passing was
bang on. A few times he found an unexpected angle. Perhaps we need to give a player who
strives to create by passing the same kind of leeway to make a mistake that we allow one
who tries to run past men. It should be recorded that Cook's reception here was supportive
and sympathetic. He was applauded at the start of the game and when he left the pitch, and
encouraged throughout. The away support is always qualitatively different to the home
support. There’s a much greater sense that our help is important. Another part of
what made this a special night was the brilliant atmosphere. Night away matches can be
like that.
Partly we were in such fine voice as a result of the appalling refereeing.
Peter Jones loved Tranmere. Everything went to them. If play ever stopped, you knew which
way the decision would go, regardless of what was happening out there. He was aided and
abetted by two useless linesmen: one who didn’t watch the game and so agreed
endlessly with the ref, and one who judged Burnley offside just about every time we played
the ball forward. Looks like Tranmere play a rigid offside trap, which we were trying to
beat with pace, but it’s so much harder to do when the linesman gives the defenders
the benefit of the doubt time after time.
Despite all our pressure, it took until just before half time before we
made it count. Davis had already come close when he’d poked instinctively at a loose
ball, only to put it into the keeper’s grateful hands. Now he lined up to take a free
kick from some way out, and the cynical amongst us advised him not to hit in, then waited
for it to go high and wide. He opted to place it, keeping it on the ground. It was on
target, and to help took at least a touch off someone else on the way in. The half time
whistle came literally seconds after, sparking a party under the stand.
Well, there we were on Stan’s favourite scoreline. But crazily, and
for the first time since Cardiff, we went 2-0 ahead. Is that allowed? Mellon put a good
corner over, and Davis was there unmarked. He duly headed home, but it somehow seemed
unreal. It was one of those slow motion goals. There was a pause on the away end as we
waited for the referee not to give it. We assumed there must be something wrong, as Davis
couldn’t possibly have had so much space. This Welsbyesque ref would surely find a
reason to deny us. Maybe Davis would even get booked for putting the ball in the net. But
no, after a perceptible moment’s silence, it became clear that Davis was celebrating,
the goal had been given, and we could start going mad in confident expectation of what we
were already beginning to call, rather cheekily, yet another away win. The expression
'Davis hat-trick' was even bandied about.
The last time we’d gone two ahead away from home, at Cardiff,
we’d speculated on whether the team would defend or attack and how we’d cope
with such an unTernentlike lead. Moments later we’d been left looking pretty foolish
as the home side struck back and halved the lead. That’s what happened here. It was a
fairly blameless goal. A ball in was half cleared, and was met perfectly on the volley by
Koumas. It was an excellent shot, and a real once a season, perhaps once a lifetime goal.
He’ll try it again next week and it will soar skyward. Here, however, it was in, and
with us now defending our customary slender lead, as a contest it was back on.
We tried to defend by attacking, but their goal, so soon after we thought
we’d sealed it and with so much time left, took the wind from our sails. It was soon
level, and this time it was a half lucky, half sloppy goal. We didn’t clear, we
didn’t mark properly, and when a shot took a bounce in an unintended direction there
was someone where it fell to knock it in past Mellon’s touchline slide.
After both their goals, they played a snatch of James Brown's 'I Feel
Good'. I know, it's irredeemably tacky. Worse, they did this when they put several past us
in 1995, so we have to assume they've been doing it ever since. I'm not a huge James Brown
fan, but I think he deserves better than being endlessly repeated at Prenton Park.
Tranmere actually attempted to get an atmosphere going, although this too required
artificial assistance. Cue the bass and drums of the Birkenhead big band. Towels, bands,
recorded music: welcome to football in the 21st century.
At this stage we stuttered and one or two players lost heart. That said, I
can’t recall them getting good, clear chances to snatch it. Mostly it looked like it
was going for a draw we would have to pretend we were happy with. Ternent gave things a
shake up. His two front runners had run themselves out, so Weller replaced Mullin, Payton
Branch and then Jepson Cook. It seemed to work; with fresh legs (alright, and Jeppo) we
took the game to them again. Payton came close twice. Once he put it over, once it was
saved.
Just when we were realising it had got cold, and we were looking at our
watches, and saying a draw was a good result really, and I was checking my map of
Liverpool - which includes the Wirral, strangely - and working out the route that would
get us to a pub near Lime Street by half ten, and just when people who don't know better
were perhaps allowing themselves to think that Payton might be losing his edge, Payton
scored. Little began the move, with yet another uncatchable dribble. His cross wasn't of
the same quality, but from the clearance Briscoe decided he'd have a go at this crossing
stuff. His was perfect, and there was Payton where he needed to be, heading it away from
the goalie and in.
Far end or not, there was no pause to let this one sink in. The away end
erupted, and punched holes in the air in the name of a just result. It was a mad and merry
mess of people. We'd got what we'd deserved, and what's more satisfying? There was time
for one last throw of the ball from Tranmere, but we defended sensibly, and that was the
end.
We saluted them all. No one had let us down. They'd been excellent. Then
it was out fast into the night to charge headlong into the late-drinking city of Liverpool
and a bellyful of beer. Pub guru Woody, who immaculately records his Burnley career,
announced that it was his 100th Burnley away win (in over 1,000 Burnley games), so there
was another excuse if we needed one. Heads were sore the next day. I slept the half hour
of my flight, and somewhere along the way I missed the England game. When I got home, I
couldn't understand what all the fuss about Keegan was about. I love the fact that club is
more important than country here, especially when my club are - note this - in the highest
league position that I have ever seen them.
Of course, as there were three first division Friday night games,
Saturday's Guardian reported the other two, throwing in a brief mention of Walsall's
division two match, but we are getting used to that by now. We left the weekend in 7th,
more than a game's misfortune ahead of Blackburn, and yet according to the media we aren't
actually playing in this division at all. Ah well, we shall have to content ourselves with
the steady accumulation of the right number of league points. Unless we're suffering from
some mass delusion and we're really in the third division playing something awful like
Rochdale right now?
I'm only sorry I ever doubted Stan, back when it looked like that was
where we were heading. I envy those who never questioned his judgement. If you're still
doing it, put your minor gripes to one side. Solid things like results and league tables
are what count, and they're the best in years. And sometimes you get a committed,
attacking performance like this thrown in too? I'm saying, that'll do.
The best
things in life