1974/75: Diary of a Season – Part 1
‘Sad Sweet Dreamer’
Do you remember the World Cup of 1974? It was the one in which
everyone raved about ‘Total Football’. That was what they called the new style,
as practised by the Dutch. Everyone could play. All roles were fluid. It was fabulous. It
was balletic. It had the pundits drooling. And yet the bloody boring Germans still won.
Method 2, Style 1. At least the Poles’ proved that they were a world class outfit.
That offered some consolation, I suppose. Elimination at their hands was no disgrace,
after all.
As for Richard Nixon, there was no escaping his shame. Just before
the new season started he finally conceded the Presidency. But despite all the sleaze, I
wonder whether history will be kinder to him. After all, he opened up diplomatic relations
with China. He helped usher in détente. He negotiated the SALT agreement. He also kept
his promise about ending the Vietnam War. And yet the Watergate generation will always
remember him as ‘Tricky Dicky’, the guy who couldn’t be trusted to flog a
second hand car.
But the year’s biggest paradox was the case of Patty Hearst;
the abducted heiress turned terrorist. Was she villain or victim? The US Court seemed
quite clear. It was summed up in a seven-year sentence. Three years later a group of Dutch
hostages defied common sense and began tub-thumping for their South Moloccan captors. For
Christ sake some of those hostages were killed. What the hell was going on? Some time
after an explanation of sorts was proffered. This psychobabble was branded ‘Hostage
syndrome’. Remember; always tack the term ‘syndrome’ onto some wacky theory
if you want it to be taken seriously. So, this is the deal. You are given a bad, bad time.
You lose all sense of worth and being. You have no one or thing to turn to. Only that
which is giving you a bad, bad time. It’s your only hope. It’s your only
identity. Sounds like life as Claret. Anyway, here’s the 1974/75 instalment.
Burnley v Wolves
‘Rock Your Baby’
17th
August 1974
A day of blazing sunshine. I really should be on my holidays.
So should 40,000 other Brits. But they’re were left high and dry as tour firms
Clarksons and Horizon go bust. 18 year-old Ray Hankin looks fit to bust, too. Jimmy
Adamson tells us, "He grows half an inch and puts on a pound every night." I
believe him. Ray really roughs up the Wolves defence. He thunders in a towering header,
too. Sadly, it counts for nothing. John Richards poaches an early goal and Geoff Palmer
grabs a ludicrous winner. A 40-yard lob, I ask you! Keith McNee of the Evening Star
exonerates Stevenson. I don’t. Still it’s nice to see Icarus United on the up. Match
of the Day captures the next stage of their ascent. Chelsea 0 Carlisle2. Bumpkins or
pumpkins? Who cares! Good luck to them. Just leave us the four points though.
Burnley v Chelsea
‘When Will I See You
Again?’
27th
August 1974
The Turks drive the Greek Cypriots out of Famagusta. The bank
drives Martin Dobson out of Burnley. Dobbo complains, "I’m just a pawn in this
game. It is just like a cattle market." He is a prize steer, though. Dobbo fetches
£300,000 from Everton. The fee pays off the £210,000 new stand. It also clears last
year’s £15,000 running loss. I wonder about that loss. Didn’t we do well last
season? Jimmy Adamson explains. Apparently it’s called "defying the game’s
law of gravity." Bob Lord will be relieved. But no one else is. Least of all the
players. They lose 1-2 to undistinguished Chelsea. Fletcher’s thunderbolt is ruled
out but James still gives us the lead with a spot kick. Chelsea take a leaf out of our
book. We took a point off them last week after being 0-3 down. This time they turn it
around. Two late goals from Bill Garner and substitute Ian Hutchinson give them the
points. Adamson thinks his team were "over-motivated," too "determined to
prove themselves after the highly-publicised departure of Dobson."I am feeling
decidedly under-motivated. Just one point from four games. I have a very bad feeling about
this season. Bill Nicholson’s has bad feelings, too. Harry Potts' old adversary
decides to pack it in. He is utterly disillusioned with money-grabbing players. Dennis Law
also calls it a day. He never really recovered from that back-heel. It sent United down.
It was God’s will so I reckon he should be canonised.
Burnley v Coventry
‘Band On The Run’
31st
August 1974
General Somoza becomes president and keeps it in the family.
His folks have ruled Nicaragua since 1933. Not a big listener is our General. Neither is
Bob Lord. Like Somoza, Bob knows how to ride out a storm. In Burnley, Sandinistas are
conspicuous by their absence. So are 6,000 fans, but we might as well get on with it.
Anyway, this is a day of sun and smiles. Peter Noble takes on Dobbo’s mantle and
excels. Newton stifles Tommy Hutchinson and Waldron and Thomson keep a tight rein on Colin
Stein and Brian Alderson. Neither Willie Carr nor Dennis Mortimer does much. Leighton
James does a lot, though. He runs Coventry fullback, Peter Hindley ragged. He sets up
another thumping header from Ray Hankin, too. Not content with that, it is his corner
which puts Peter Noble on the score sheet at last. And just to finish it off he scores
himself with a sweet drive. 3-0 and we’re on our way. Not before time.
Arsenal v
Burnley
‘Y Viva Espana’
7th September 1974
Heath was done over by the deadly duo; union might and
economic blight. Wilson isn’t doing much better. Inflation is getting out of hand. A
new mini now costs over a £1,000. Keith Joseph reckons monetarism is the answer. I decide
fanaticism is the answer. Standing on the Clock End as Noble volleys in Fletcher’s
nod down, I am vindicated. Noble is brilliant. Ian Brennan is brilliant. Only Jimmy
Rimmer’s athleticism stops further goals from Fletcher and Ingham. A good night
follows.
Burnley v Leeds United
‘Love Me For A Reason’
14th
September 1974
The IRA step up their mainland bombing campaign. Bombs are
placed in Pall Mall and at Marble Arch. Meanwhile Chia Chia and Ching Ching don’t try
too hard to get it on at London Zoo. Another confirmed celibate, Ted Heath, comes to
Burnley. His purpose is to open the Martin Dobson stand. Clough comes with his dischuffed
Leeds. It's yet another brilliant day. Burnley seem determined to challenge its ‘wet
dream country’ stereotype. They are more determined still to challenge the current
Champions. Lorimer gives the visitors a half-time lead, shooting sharply across Stevenson.
Fletcher’s fierce drive and James (from the spot) turn it around. It’s quite a
scrap, though. Hankin and McQueen are dismissed. Eat your heart out, George Foreman.
Liverpool v Burnley
‘You Make Me Feel Brand
New’
24th
September 1974
My Chrysler rust bucket has been in dock for over two weeks. So
I miss the Derby defeat (2-3). Push off Pet Clark. The bloody ‘Chrysler Man’
can’t! Ceefax begins but I need the real thing. So today, I impress a new recruit. At
9 am he’d no idea he liked football. He had no idea what, whom or where was Burnley.
And yet nine hours later he was driving me along a dank and dismal East Lancs Road, en
route to Anfield. It could have been Damascus, for by the day’s end, he was
transformed, blinded by the brilliance of Ian Brennan’s first half goal. Brennan is
thirty yards out when he lets fly. The ball goes like a shell, just clipping
Clemence’s right hand post before fizzing into the net. The Daily Express reported,
"Liverpool, like a lion wounded in its own den, hit back with a ferocious onslaught
which was met by coolness and defiance by a superbly drilled Burnley back four [what!] in
which Billy Rodaway, ironically a former Liverpool Schoolboys captain, was
outstanding." Yes, Billy, there was a time when you were quite good. Even Holly
Johnson once thought so, albeit for very different reasons. I think Waldron is equally
impressive. So does the Scouser alongside me. Even though he keeps insisting that I stop
his blondeness from making unnatural advances on Boersma and Kennedy. I don’t on the
grounds that it is bloody amusing.
Burnley v
West Ham United
'Kung Fu Fighting’
28th September 1974
Pretty team. Not enough bottle. That was many pundits
verdict on Greenwood’s Hammers. John Lyall’s version is a bit different. New
signings Keith Robson and Billy Jennings epitomise the new order. This is a team of
scrappers. They can still play a bit, too. They’d scored fifteen goals in their
previous three matches. Five per match. Today, they maintain that average (Robson 2,
Brooking, Jennings and Bonds). Burnley manage three as well (Fletcher 2 and Noble) in this
wet, muddy, end-to-end spectacular. But Stevenson has a stinker. This time, it’s
Adamson’s turn to let him off. Once again, I don’t. It is so disappointing after
the euphoria of Tuesday. Never mind, Ronald MacDonald is about to hit Britain.
Spurs v Burnley
‘Annie’s Song’
5th
October 1974
Five die and sixty-five are injured in the Guildford pub
bombings. A leaked Army Intelligence memo encourages the IRA. It indicates terrorism
cannot be beaten. I wonder how bright you have to be to get into Army Intelligence. The
IRA is not keeping me away from London, though. It is a cool day of sunshine and showers.
The midfield of Ingham, Collins and Flynn is a revelation. Ingham works his socks off.
Flynn has a lovely touch, clever on the ball, nice distribution. Collins is fantastic.
Terrific vision, creating space, finding incredible openings. Brennan set us going,
though. His perfectly placed centre causes Mike England to concede the first. John Pratt
then adds a second own goal, deflecting Fletcher’s shot past Jennings. Two-nil up
inside 17 minutes and looking good. What’s more, had Pat Jennings not made two
terrific saves from Noble and Rodaway, Burnley would be out of sight by the break.
I’m gloating. Pay back time at last for those drubbings in the late sixties. But
remember, this is Burnley. Foul ups are a part of the heritage. True to form they let
Spurs back in. Both Pratt and England make amends. Two headers and it’s 2-2. Now
Spurs go after the win. But Beal’s dismissal pulls the rug. Then Jennings saves
brilliantly from Rodaway. It looks like a draw. Flynn has other ideas. He caps a fabulous
afternoon by carving out an inviting chance for James. Taffy doesn’t disappoint. A
left-footed drive clips Pratt’s heel and leaves Jennings helpless. Brilliant.
Tim Quelch
September-October 1999
