Last season, just before his dismissal, Stockport boss Andy Kilner was asked to comment on a national radio station on a rumour that had been doing the rounds. This consisted of the belief that bad referees were being ‘marked up’ by Football League managers, in an attempt to get them promoted to the Premier League and stop them ruining Football League matches. Kilner laughed off the suggestion, telling the interviewer that he let his secretary do the marking for him. Sounds far fetched? Well let me throw in the names of a few of our so called ‘top of the tree’ officials: Knight, Messias, D’Urso, Wilkes, Styles, Halsey, Rennie…need I go on? What are the odds on a certain Mr Grant Hegley of Bishops Stortford making the list in a couple of seasons’ time?
The standard of refereeing in this country is quite simply abysmal. Why is it that time after time managers complain of a poor performance by an inept referee (and the same old names keep cropping up), yet the authorities refuse to get involved? And it’s not just the man in the middle who is becoming a joke. We can all on occasion sympathise with linesmen on close offside decisions – yes, it’s a difficult job, and admittedly when it goes against your team it pisses you off, but we are all adult enough to know that they are only human. So what really does take the piss is a linesman who stands and watches from right next to a player as he takes a corner from outside of the ‘D’. It’s simply the basic rules of the game, and these people cannot even enforce that, so how can we expect them to get difficult decisions like offside correct when they show such a staggering level of ineptitude (and pure and simple bloody cowardice) in refusing to make sure the rules of the game are adhered to?
The referee for this game was quite simply inept, shambolic, dreadful, appalling, not up to it, piss poor, a showboating arrogant bastard, pathetic...need I go on? There you go, Stan, I’ll say it for you, and they can’t ban me from the touchline for telling the truth.
Firstly, the game should never have started: there was a dense fog around the Kent area all day which grew progressively worse before magically lifting just before the final whistle. The fog was so bad that, having missed the team announcement, I didn’t realise that Ian Moore was playing until I saw the Sunday papers. I simply could not see the opposite corner flag; the players floated around in some sort of gothic masterpiece which was being expertly directed by Tim Burton. It was surely just a matter of time before Batman appeared. Sadly, he couldn’t make it - but the joker certainly did.
Let me say right now: we were dreadful. Gillingham fully deserved to win, and this rant / report should take nothing away from what was a professional performance by them. Also, Mr Hegley didn’t cost us the game, either; indeed, he did give us what was apparently a very dodgy penalty and this goes to show that he was just as inept for each side. I cannot comment on the penalty - I wasn’t there, the three goal rule having been adhered to after King scored their fourth. To be quite honest I can’t really comment on much of what went on as I spent much of my time peering through the ghostly mist that shrouded Priestfield. I therefore can only give brief details of the goals and these have, where appropriate, been checked and taken from various match reports.
Gillingham’s first goal came courtesy of the square and flat-footed Burnley defence (all except Mark McGregor, who was on his arse). Rod Wallace was clean through - the defence statuesque as they as one appealed for offside - and slotted the ball under Beresford. Burnley did equalise. Robbie Blake...yes, I know he’s proven that he’s better than a one-legged Morris Dancer - it’s called irony, you know. He was injured, and that’s why. Oh, what’s the point - if you didn’t understand it the first time I won’t even bother now. Anyway, Robbie Blake did some good work down the left, and his cross ball found Gareth Taylor lurking in the fog six yards out. I’m making this bit up, really, but as no-one could see it it would be difficult to contradict - anyhow he swivelled (this bit is true) and smashed the ball into the roof of the net. Surely this meant we had hope?
No chance. Apparently Paul Shaw scored from close range after appearing to hand ball it (surely we didn’t expect Hegley or his moribund lino to see this, did we?). To cap a wonderful first half, Paul Smith then waltzed through the Burnley side and scored from just inside the area. I actually saw this and it was a truly abysmal goal from our point of view. Good solid pro that Smith is, he’s not exactly Pele, is he? So how the hell did he beat all those men? And Tony Grant - did I mention that this waster was in the starting XI? Well he was, and yes, Grant spotters: he did sod all again.
Half time, and 3-1 down. Ternent made a change for the second half. Alan ‘what do I do with this round thing’ Moore came on for the phantom Moore, Ian. Little moved to the right wing, and we continued to play like buffoons. Gnohere wandered around aimlessly - at one point I think he actually got close to his man; sadly it was as they were walking off at half time. McGregor tried manfully without really accomplishing anything, Branch shouted at the linesman, and Dean West was marooned over on the other side of the pitch – he may even have been on the other side of the Medway, it was that bloody foggy by now.
63 minutes gone, and Marlon King took a pass from Jack the Ripper and scored at the second attempt after Beresford could only push out his first effort. Game over! Three goal rule and off we toddled. I can’t really comment on the penalty, which was apparently scored twice, or the sendings off, but I ask you to draw your own conclusions after reading the match reports. I haven’t seen one that has given muppet boy Hegley more than four out of ten, and believe me that is unusual - if a journalist says the ref was bad then he was dire!
Taylor was dismissed for an apparent headbutt that no one other than the dickhead of a referee saw (and that includes the supposed recipient of the aforementioned butt), and Dean West had the ball kicked at him from close range and was dismissed. Stan said it was harsh, but then Stan would, wouldn’t he? Teams must be delighted when Burnley appears on their fixture list nowadays. It’s the chance to get out of that dreadful run, play against a disorganised rabble, and score a few goals to improve the confidence – and Gillingham’s home form before this match had been poor to say the least. As for the referee, he not only sent off two Clarets but he also booked a further four as well as three members of the opposition. He was appalling for both sides, and I shall not dwell on his alleged hand gesture to the away fans as he was leaving the pitch as I wasn’t there. Others were.
To sum up, it looks to be a long hard winter ahead for Burnley. I’m sure we’ll muddle along to the end of the season, but who knows where we will be next season? At this rate the future is not bright.
A final note on the title of this piece. After the website editor’s shameful stealing of my ‘Play Misty for me’ headline for her vox pop on this match for the website, I refuse to be accused of plagiarism by repeating the aforementioned headline here. I shall though in future keep my headlines to myself. As for my new headline – work it out for yourself!
Subs not used: Maylett, Rasmussen.
Scorers: (Gillingham) Wallace 17, Shaw 41, Smith 45, King 64 / (Burnley) Taylor 28, Blake 76 (pen).
Referee: G Hegley (Bishop's Stortford). Mr Hegley and his linesmen are available for children's parties, pantomimes, and Victorian costume dramas.
Attendance: 7,905.
Whitto's man of the match: Robbie ‘Morris Dancer’ Blake. The only other Claret to emerge with any credit: Gareth Taylor.
My Rifle, My Pony and Me