You know, I think I could get used to this.
It’s still a bit scary at the moment, but we appear to have become a superb attacking
side possessed of a tremendous will to win games.
This is Burnley we’re talking about, isn’t it?
Well, so it would appear. I’ve checked, and the players are mostly
the same ones who scored not very many goals last year, the manager still looks like the
same bloke, and when this team wins, Burnley get points. I’m forced to conclude,
then, that this is indeed Burnley.
I’ve become a convert to the joys of statistics for some reason, so
here are today’s facts and figures. We’re the top scorers in the land and have
the best goal difference. We have scored 23 League goals now. We’ve taken 21 points
from eight games, because we’ve won seven of those eight, including four successive
away wins. There hasn’t been a game so far where we haven’t scored at least two
goals. This win – shattering Birmingham’s 100% home record, maintaining our 100%
away record – took us five points clear at the top of the First Division,
guaranteeing us top spot for at least another week. And, because I like this one,
especially when you’re playing rich clubs like Birmingham, of the eleven players who
started the game, eight were free transfers. The three subs we used were frees, too.
Yep, it feels mighty fine. We had rather a good day of it too. Once the
morning’s formalities of work were dispensed with there was even time for a quick
snifter before the train. This felt odd, as it isn’t the sort of thing you can do at
half past seven in the morning. Thence all aboard the Virgin Shinkansen, which duly broke
down at Rugby. Derek, our friendly customer service liaison manager, announced that the
train was a "failure". Tell us something we don’t know. Eventually we
limped into the second city a bit less than half an hour late. This wasn’t a
disaster. In Saturday terms it was still half past eleven.
Several pubs and pints later, we wound our way to elusive St
Andrew’s, where outside the half of the turnstiles that weren’t shut snaked a
queue. Of course. Best not make too much of a fuss about this, mind, as the police's ears
pricked up at the hope of an arrest. Inside, our complaints were met with the excuse that
there was ‘quite a following’. Perhaps one day someone won’t be surprised
by the fact that, yes, we do go to games. But he was right: it was quite a following. As
befits a team which is top of the league.
We lined up 4-4-2, with Armstrong back in central defence for Thomas and
Briscoe at left back for Gnohere, but otherwise unchanged.
And it was an absolute rip snorter of a game. The first half in particular
was wide open, and full of good, attacking football. In that respect it was quite similar
to the game there last season, but of course with the correct score this time. The great
thing is, our goals were brilliant goals as well. Not only are we scoring freely, but some
of them are beauties.
No more than Glen Little’s first. Already we’d shown signs of
our new determination to attack, with Taylor getting in an early header. But none of us
were expecting quite what happened after about ten minutes. Little simply ignored the
defenders, cut in, and from a wide angle we were all hoping for a decent cross. Blakey
thought otherwise, saw the gap that no one else could see, and with his left foot curled
the ball sweetly into the far top corner. Simply, genius. This is about as good a goal
you’ll see. Little just cannot be stopped at the moment.
Unfortunately we then over-complicated and allowed them to come back. We
know you can’t have everything, and it seems our new found attacking zeal has exposed
unsuspected defensive frailties. A clutch of players farted about with the ball in the
corner to NTG’s right, when all it needed was for someone to clear it. Dean West, who
I tend to regard as somewhat reformed these days, was particularly guilty. It was just
asking for someone to take possession and put us in danger, and so it proved. Lazaridis
got the ball, crossed it, and with our defenders dispersed Johnson’s header was
well-placed. True, it was a good cross and a smart finish, but our sloppiness had given
them the opportunity.
Blimey, someone turned the sound on. Suddenly the Brum fans realised they
were at a football match rather than a funeral and bothered to give their team some vocal
support. Good of them. But we never did get an adequate response to the frequently offered
and indisputable fact that WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE.
Play was fairly evenly contested after the goal. I don’t recall
either side having any 'must score' chances, but I was trying to eat my balti pie and
engage in banter with the home fans to my right, so I was a little distracted. Then,
before I’d finished the pie, Ian Moore scored. It was another great goal from a
vastly improved player. Moore held off his man, then spun and finished with a hard and
true shot. Very graceful. He made turning and scoring look easy. Moore looks twice the
player he did last season. In fact, he finally looks like a striker, and in our run of
goals may at last be finding some consistency.
We moved about so nicely. At the moment we make football look a cinch.
Everyone passes, everyone moves, and the man with the ball always seems to have an option.
We zipped about all over the turf and looked so bright and lively. It was a joy to watch.
Lots of chuckles in boots. Birmingham are a pretty nifty side, too. Give them credit.
They've got some good players, even if the manager's a fool, and they helped make this a
good game. Another chunk of entertainment for those mythical neutrals. I suppose their
players should be pretty decent given the amount of money they've had to spend, but then,
they somehow keep giving Danny Sonner a game.
Suddenly it was back level. A through ball found Johnson speeding past the
defence. He was through with only Michopoulos to beat. He coolly aimed for the gap between
NTG's legs and finished with precision. He's clearly not a bad player.
Time to turn the sound on again. Call me a pedant if you will, but quite
how Birmingham are going to 'shit on the Villa' I can't imagine. Surely if you're going to
shit on anything you actually have to be above it at some point?
Perhaps we can offer to do it on their behalf next season.
Anyway, we went in 2-2, with Taylor having headed wide a good chance just
before the break. Lots of 'we'll settle for this' and 'be happy with a point' around.
Birmingham came out fighting in the second half, the early stages of which
we spent reminding the goalie in front of us, one of the Kellys, that he is, was, and
therefore always will be, a Bastard. Burnley retreated into their shells somewhat. We
defended a bit deeper, and at times last ditch. Now the options dried up and our forwards
saw less of the ball. That said, the amount of work put in remained tremendous. Don't let
this free-scoring thing fool you. This is not some reincarnation of Brazil in search of
the mythical lost goal. This side works bloody hard for its rewards. Moore and Taylor got
through an incredible amount of running, while Briscoe must have covered every square foot
of grass, particularly when he moved into midfield with Thomas coming on for Cook.
Brisser even got in front of goal again, although Saturday's shooting form
had deserted him. Somewhere in here Taylor had another decent chance, but somehow he
kicked it sideways.
And there's tenacity as well. Moore (A), having another good game and
earning that new contract, finally got the fifth booking that will give someone else a
chance. This was probably the first yellow card he deserved, as he brought down the ever
dangerous Johnson.
We still looked capable of grabbing one on the break. Even when under
pressure, we're a pretty handy counter-attacking side. I'd said at half time, while more
than happily settling for the draw, that we'd get at least one golden chance for another,
and it was a question of whether we took it.
It came from nowhere. Blakey's genius magicked a goal from a slender
opportunity. There didn’t seem to be much on when the ball broke, but Glen seized on
the chance and buried it deftly, to make it more goals in a couple of weeks than he
usually gets a season. It looked a good shot to me, although I read afterwards that it
took a deflection.
Glen Little’s awesome form is further proof of the doctrine that Stan
Is Always Right. I once doubted whether Ternent could make the best of such a talented
player, and feared that he would have to leave to progress. In fact, Stan’s
management of the team’s most gifted player has been brilliant. Under Ternent’s
tutelage, Little has become an all round better player, able when it demands to bend his
individual genius to team orders, and now a scorer of goals too. Well done, Glen and Stan.
I feel pretty vindicated, too, having always rated Little and defended him in arguments
with a ludicrous number of Clarets who didn’t see what I saw, or didn’t have the
patience for the days when it didn’t come off, or classed him as a ‘luxury
player’. Well, top of the division looks pretty luxurious to me. And I wonder what
happened to that bloke who had a right go at Cardiff when Glen got sent off and said we
should get shot, and was sad enough to resume the discussion a week later in Oxford?
Mmm… I’m enjoying this.
It was around this time that we became aware of a new song filtering down
from up the stand. Or, as it turns out, a new version of an old song. These things sound
awfully lame when put on paper, so I’ll just say you should get to an away game soon
to hear ‘Hey Burnley’. Apparently it’s based on a song currently riding
high in the hit parade. Still it sounded good, so we all joined in. By the end of the
game, just about everyone was singing it.
Ah, the beauty of away games, when you can sing your own song without some
PR whizzkid of 18 months' affiliation telling you what to sing.
Meanwhile on the pitch, Birmingham exerted predictable pressure. In
expectation of this, no sooner had the goal been scored than we brought another defender
on. I Moore went off again, and Gnohere replaced him. We did our best to criticise the
substitution, on the grounds that it worked last time, but we knew that Stan Is Always
Right. And, sure, they came at us, but the defence held. They had chances, but we snuffed
them out effectively. NTG was trustworthy and did what was needed. We still broke
occasionally too, Gnohere making a mockery of the notion that he’d been brought on to
defend by going off on a couple of his by now customary mad charges.
We finished the game Mooreless as Elvis replaced Alan close to the end. I
love all the players now, even Elvis.
Brum were reduced to shouting for a penalty for a handball that, if it,
happened was certainly not intentional. Surprisingly, the referee, S W Mathieson of
Stockport (County?) passed up a chance to do us some grief. While favouring the home side
throughout, he hadn’t given the one big wrong decision. He must be going soft in his
old age. The nearest they got was a bit of a spell when the ball bounced about a lot and
we couldn’t quite clear it, but then we hacked it away and I could stop holding my
breath and my brother. It was hard to tell how close they might have been as it was down
the other end. Even four minutes plus of stoppage time (after five - yes, five - at the
end of the first half) wasn’t enough. We won. Again.
This was utterly, incredibly satisfying, partly because of the manner of
our win, the performance, the goals, the resolution shown. It was stirring stuff. I was
desperate for us to beat Birmingham too. It was one of the games I most wanted to win,
because I despise Trevor Francis and I think their supporters are arrogant. At best
they’re the second club in the second city, so what makes them think they’re
entitled to that ‘small town in Blackburn’ nonsense? Perhaps they hate the fact
that we have, in so little time, gone past them, progressing from a hard contested defeat,
to a draw they were delighted with, to this win. Sure, it was a narrow win, but when did they ever have the lead?
Scenes were joyous at the final whistle, with latest cult hero Arthur
grabbing handfuls of his shirt and bellowing like a madman. We could only follow this with
more beer. Getting that bus back to the centre looked a good idea, but the police held it
and let all the away coaches out first! Still, a few pints were had before the late night
Virgin express back home, on board which we got through the buffet’s wine stocks with
devastating speed. I arrived back home at 2.17, and the following day was a nightmarish
combination of fatigue and hangover.
But I am so glad I went. This night was sensational, and will live long.
It was a stern test, one we might have worried about, and we passed it with style. We were
brilliant, as usual. Bloody hell. What next?
Hey
Burnley