Would have loved to have been there, and am jealous of all who were, but work inconveniently intervened. Commitments were unshakeable. Next best thing was to watch the match in a pub in the company of fellow London Clarets. Key criteria for pub selection were drinkable beer, big screen, central location and, crucially, it not being a pub we'd get disappointed about being thrown out of if things got out of hand. So at 6.30 to a pub in Covent Garden. Decent smattering of London Clarets present, given that the regulars are more accustomed to watching matches in football grounds rather than on the telly. For one stalwart, indeed, this was the first time he had seen the Clarets live on the Magic Lantern. Beer wasn't great, but after some negotiation they were persuaded to turn off the music and unfurl the big screen, so we stayed. A large number of men identically dressed in black suits, white shirts, black ties frequented the pub. Either freemasons, we pondered, or a Reservoir Dogs fan club. Not quite nuns, but they may have had some influence on the outcome. We're in the infancy of exploring the strange connections between religion and Burnley's results. I'd spent all day in a church hall, too...
After ritual abuse of alleged 'expert' Chris Waddle and any number of adverts we had kick off. Turf Moor looked nice on the screen. The observation that the starting defence was the same as that which helped us lose by the odd goal in eleven in Cleethorpes brought a chill to the room. Little's absence was disappointing, too. Me and new boy Wayne concentrated on avoiding the customary first five minutes goal. We transmitted positive thoughts across the 200+ miles, and it seemed to work. Five minutes gone, and still 0-0. Time for a celebratory slurp. Okay, now ten minutes. Yes! Fifteen minutes. Yes! Twenty minutes... ah well. 16 minutes gone and Spurs score a soft goal. Poyet is unchallenged to head home a corner. Sky's pundits - including Ray Houghton, and we all know how highly Stan rates him - blamed our Gareth, but on the replay it was clear that Poyet was Grant's man. Tony had elected to deal with the dangerous player's darting forward run by the innovative tactic of standing still.
For the first time we realised there were Spurs fans in the pub, as the goal brought cheers. We promised ourselves we'd cheer longer and louder should a Clarets goal materialise, but it felt like an idle threat. We expected only the deluge. West was getting beaten time and again, and was resorting to fouls. Spurs were attacking at will down the wings. Just like at Preston, we were not winning, or keeping hold of, the ball. It was very easy for Spurs to get the ball into our box. The partnership of TLC King Arthur and McGregor looked shaky too. Our hopes were that we might get to half time and keep it 0-1, but this felt optimistic. We began to ponder how the Three Goal Rule would work, and decided that if we went three goals behind, we would walk out of the pub and go to a football match.
(NB - Some people seem to be taking the Three Goal Rule rather seriously. It's supposed to be tongue in cheek, okay?)
But never let it be said that Uncle Stan is afraid of making a tactical change if it isn't working. One of his trademarks has become the early substitution in the light of the failed game plan, and he did it again. It was inspired. Little's introduction simply transformed the game. We were now capable of holding the ball up and hanging on to possession - a much under-rated aspect of Little's game. Little provides the outlet option, enabling our other players to hit the ball to him and then get into good positions. Alright, so I'm a fan, but another thing going for Glen is that he has these partnerships with other creative players: Little and Weller, Little and Blake. Those players play better with him. His nose looks even bigger on the TV, though.
The other positive aspect of the substitution was that Davis moved into the back. I must admit that Davis has done better in midfield than I expected, but now we know how much we need Ian Cox. In Cox's absence, Davis must play at the back. We have learned in recent games that Arthur is not yet a lead defender. He needs a strong partner beside him, and cannot carry a defence on his own.
The first half ended positively, with a spell in which Burnley competed. Half time and our mission of not being any further down was accomplished. A London Clarets member had even appeared on the TV during the course of the half, in the shape of Mr Ralph Coates. It was also good to see Mitchell Thomas at the match, nailing his colours to the mast by forsaking his traditional frayed denim jacket for a Burnley FC coat. Divided loyalties? As if!
What can be said about the second half? We were terrific. We played superbly, and we deserved to win. Early on someone said 'we need to score while we're on top'. Well, we did. Blake's shot turned out on the replay (handy things, these replays) to have took a deflection, but who cares? We deserved a goal, and Blake deserved to score it. Suddenly people were trying to work out what Burnley supporters were doing in a central London pub. No decision was ever made on whether to cheer or exercise discretion; we simply couldn't help ourselves.
Even better followed a few minutes later when Steve Davis, who played in the 1993 League Cup games against Spurs, did a Poyet, hammering in a corner. We erupted. From hoping to keep down the score to being in the lead was incredible, but it was no more than we deserved.
After that it wasn't quite hanging on. Blake's run and shot deserved to hit the back of the net rather than the post. Blake is such a good player. Stan said we'd enjoy watching him play, and again he turned out to be right. Blake has two good feet, close control, an ability to turn and a sense of what is happening around him. All of a sudden, that million pounds looks like good value.
Little was simply extraordinary too. They could not live with him, and never worked out what to do with him. For Spurs, Bunjevcevic had a particularly torrid time. By the end, he looked bewildered. Glen Hoddle might have been wearing a wire, but even his medium or whoever was on the other end couldn't guide him. They changed their team about, but the fact is that Etherington, who was substituted, Anderton, who replaced him, Davies and Poyet were bypassed by Little, Blake and Weller. Briscoe, after a naff start, also gave it all he had, running himself flat out for the cause.
The rest of the match was a bit of a beer-fuelled blur, punctuated by many looks at the watch. It's an odd thing to find yourself shouting words of encouragement at a television screen, but we were. Robbie Keane did have chances for them, but demonstrated for me why he can't play consistently at the top level by missing them. His woeful attempt to chip Marlon brought cheers from the gathered Clarets. Pundits could point out the snap shot onto the bar at the death - we nearly choked on our beer - but to me that made it 1-1 with Blake's chance.
We roared at the final whistle, then turned round, and the Spurs fans had already gone. They'd simply melted into the air. As we finished our pints Chris Waddle reappeared to give his expert opinion. Quite what he had to say was lost as we ran through songs of jubilation. I can't remember when I last saw anyone look so crestfallen. Chrissy boy looked like he was going to blub any minute.
Then around the corner to a better pub for some rather predictable bouts of celebration. Many calls were made to the lucky bastards who'd been to the game. But what was Patrick doing in the club shop? My dad related how he'd popped out of the club he was drinking in to wave goodbye to the Spurs coaches. Childish, but amusing.
After that, it was last orders, falling asleep on the tube journey home via Seven Sisters (change here for White Hart Lane) and a massive hangover the next morning. All worth it, but this watching football on TV thing will never catch on. The only thing to do is be there, which is where I plan to be in Round Four!
West McGregor Gnohere Branch
Weller Grant S Davis Briscoe
Attendance: 13,512.
Scorers: (Burnley) Blake 57, S Davis 61 / (Spurs) Poyet 17.
Referee: D J Gallagher (Banbury).
Firmo's Man of the Match (I know it doesn't count, Woody): Little.
Waddle, what's the score?