Manager Harry Potts tried to play it up,
but his caution was obvious. In his programme notes for the opening game with Bolton, he
said, ‘…I feel that we are capable of holding our own against any opposition,
the players are very dedicated indeed and their effort, application and skill will
certainly stand us in good stead.’ Note there was no mention of challenging for
honours. ‘Holding our own’ suggested that Harry’s main aim was to keep
relegation at bay. If so, his limited ambition was understandable. Despite the end of
season revival in ‘76/77, relegation had been on the agenda up until the final home
game. Also, the pre-season matches had been particularly inauspicious. Blackpool had taken
the Clarets to the cleaners in a home friendly (0-4) and Third Division Chester had given
them a hard time over two League Cup legs (2-1).
Sure enough, when Bolton came for the opening league fixture, the
Trotters grabbed both points (0-1). It was a game of few chances with Burnley creating
less than Bolton. True, Peter Robinson had a header ruled out. But with Paul Fletcher and
Peter Noble sidelined there was little strength up front. Poor David Loggie proved again
that he was hopelessly out of his depth as a central striker. Malcolm Smith, who replaced
him, was scarcely better. Terry Cochrane and Tony Morley were able to supply the
ammunition but there was no one to fire the gun. Apart from the weather, the only bright
spot was the performance of young midfielder Marshall Burke.
Despite losing the next two fixtures at Sunderland (0-3) and Stoke
(1-2), Harry insisted that the side was playing ‘excellent football’ and had
‘made plenty of chances.’ In fairness, his head might have been turned by
Burnley’s remarkable League Cup victory over First Division Norwich (3-1), then
managed by John Bond. Again, it seemed to show that Burnley were more comfortable playing
top opposition. In the First Division, less of a premium was placed upon work-rate and
physicality. That suited Burnley’s style of play. However, it has to be said that
Norwich gave Burnley far too much space. Morley and Cochrane took full advantage of their
generosity.
Sadly, this stirring performance was a one-night wonder. When
ambitious Crystal Palace came to Turf Moor on the following Saturday, they humiliated the
Clarets. Paul Hinshelwood and Kenny Samson neutralised Cochrane and Morley and Ian Evans
contained Peter Noble. Palace attacked at will. It could and should have been a massacre.
Amazingly, Burnley stole a point after Peter Nicholas sliced a cross into his own net
(1-1). I imagined Terry Venables was frothing with frustration.
This break did not mark any change of fortune, though. Four out of
the next five games were lost, with heavy defeats sustained at newly promoted Mansfield
(1-4), where Fletcher was dismissed in his comeback game, and at Fulham (1-4). Ipswich
ended the League Cup interest, despite Fletcher giving Burnley an early lead (1-2). Only a
0-0 home draw with Brighton broke the dismal sequence. This poor run was arrested with a
3-1 home win against Bristol Rovers. Malcolm Smith netted with a scorcher. But this did
not herald the turn around we all yearned for. Three out of the next four games were lost.
The exception was a 1-1 home draw with Hull. It was Flynn’s last game before his
transfer and he bade us a sad farewell with a goal. Not that there were many there to see
it. Just 8,706 made the effort. The crowd was voting with its feet. Only 7,223 had turned
up for an earlier home defeat by lowly Millwall (0-2), a new post war low. It was almost
inevitable that Brian Flynn would be sold and it was Leeds who took him away for
£170,000.
After the 0-3 defeat at Spurs on November 5th, Burnley were rock
bottom with just five points from fourteen games. Bristol Rovers were placed immediately
above them with eleven points, and this was the side that had capitulated so pathetically
at Spurs (0-9). It could hardly have been grimmer. It was clear that Harry was not going
to turn this situation around without an injection of new talent. To our astonishment he
was allowed to do just that. In the week leading up to the home game with Notts County,
Harry signed Brian ‘Little Bamber’ Hall from Plymouth for £25,000 and former
Clarets’ favourite Stevie ‘Skippy’ Kindon from Wolves for £80,000.
Harry didn’t need to convince Bob Lord of the wisdom of
re-signing Kindon. In fact, Bob Lord helped to clinch the deal. Kindon both liked and
respected the Burnley chairman. Until Bob Lord moved in to persuade him, Kindon was
undecided. Bob proved very persuasive. For that act alone, he deserves to be remembered
with affection.
On Saturday 12th November Abba were top of the charts
with The Name Of The Game and the top selling US album was Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours.
It was a dreadful day. All morning, bruised, bulging clouds surged in from the Irish Sea
bringing stinging, icy rain. There was some doubt whether the match would be played.
Fortunately, the rain relented just before kick off, but there were still large puddles
left in midfield. Although wrapped in heavy clothing, a raw, damp North Westerly wind
chilled us to the core as we briskly made our way to the sanctuary of the Longside.
Notts County came to Turf Moor on something of a roll. They had
defeated Charlton (2-0), Mansfield (3-1) and Brighton (1-0) in their previous three league
games, lifting themselves out of the relegation zone. The return of Jimmy Sirrel as
manager and the rehabilitation of their central striker, Mick Vinter, had inspired their
improved form. This promised to be a tough game.
Harry went for broke, employing a four-man attack, comprising
Cochrane, Fletcher, Kindon and Morley. Noble and Hall had responsibility for the midfield,
while Newton, Thomson, Rodaway and Brennan made up the back four. Stevenson was in goal.
On the face of things this appeared to be a strong side. But with this formation we
expected these sides to slug it out to the death. And that’s exactly what we got.
Burnley made the initial running. They were helped when County
keeper Eric McManus was penalised for taking too many steps. Newton thumped in the
resulting free kick and although his shot was blocked, the ball ran kindly for Morley, who
chipped narrowly over the angle.
County weathered the early pressure and then started to apply some
of their own. Under pressure, Rodaway was forced to head a cross behind after Alan
Birchenall and Arthur Mann had combined well on the left. Newton also headed a cross just
wide of Stevenson and into the side netting. But County’s best chance fell to
ex-Derby striker John Sims, who was put through by Vinter. Fortunately, he shot well wide
when he had both space and time to score.
Burnley then switched play to the other end and Birchenall was
incredibly lucky to deflect Fletcher’s fierce cross just wide of his goal. The
ensuing corner also caused panic in the County defence but O’Brien managed to block
Newton’s drive. However, Burnley’s renewed pressure paid off in the 16th
minute. Stevenson cleared long and Fletcher fed Cochrane on the right. The Irishman
quickly made ground on the flank before putting over a perfect centre for Fletcher to head
powerfully past McManus. We on the Longside shook with gleeful relief.
Now Burnley took control and after 28 minutes they doubled their
lead. Centre back Brian Stubbs dallied on the ball and Kindon took it from him. Setting
off on one of his typical surging runs, he rounded McManus and rolled the ball in from a
tight angle. Cue delirium. Our favourite son was home. ‘Burnley are back, Burnley are
back. Hallo!’
County weren’t out of it, though. Steve Carter was dangerous
on their right wing and Vinter was causing consternation in the Clarets’ defence.
Both Vinter and Sims went close before the break but so did Morley, firing just wide after
a fine solo effort.
The second half continued in the same vein with play switching back
and forth. McManus had to dive bravely at Kindon’s feet to deny him a second and the
County keeper also made a splendid save from Brennan. However, Stevenson was fortunate
when Vinter’s thirty-yard run resulted in a shot directed straight at him. Mann and
Sims also wasted good opportunities. Nevertheless, on 57 minutes, County had McManus’
agility to thank when he just kept out Kindon’s flying header. The value of this save
was doubled in the next minute.
By this time the weather had closed in once more. The rain started
lashing down again, buffeted this way and that in the gusting wind. Perhaps because of the
difficult conditions, Noble misjudged Carter’s cross and ended up handling inside his
own area. A penalty was awarded. Carter stepped up to take the kick and nonchalantly sent
Stevenson the wrong way. Now we had a fight on our hands. To their credit, Burnley piled
forward. They weren’t going to rely upon desperate defence.
As if the conditions weren’t bad enough already, the driving
rain then turned to snow. Large flakes now spiralled and swirled in the glare of the
floodlights. The Bob Lord and Cricket Field Stands were almost opaque behind the snowy
shroud. The pitch had already cut up badly in the heavy conditions. Now it became
downright treacherous as the slowly melting snow began to lie on its wet, muddy surface.
Mistakes became commonplace. But it fell to ex-Forest stalwart Bob Chapman to make the
crucial one. Chapman was caught in possession on the left touchline. Seizing the
opportunity, Kindon immediately found Fletcher with a low cross. Fletcher didn’t
hesitate, ramming the ball home before McManus could move. Now we could relax. Now we
could truly enjoy Stevie’s homecoming. Now we could hope once more.
While County were being defeated at Turf Moor, their local rivals
Forest were coming from behind to beat Man U 2-1. Kenny Burns and Archie Gemmill were
their scorers. It would keep Forest in top spot and on course for the First Division
Championship in their first season back. No other club has performed this feat since. It
is highly unlikely that one will in the future, such is the gap now existing between the
elite three or four clubs and the rest. What’s more, can anyone seriously imagine
that a promoted club like Sunderland can not only waltz away with the Premier title but
also achieve European glory in two successive seasons?
Forest’s meteoric rise was an inspiration to us all, but
although we dared to hope again, like novice swimmers we needed to keep in touch with the
bottom. As if to confirm the sense of that, Burnley went down 2-1 at Cardiff on the
following Saturday. They were unlucky. After Fletcher had put us back on terms with a firm
drive from Kindon’s cross, Noble was penalised for a challenge that only the referee
saw. Video evidence confirmed ‘Uwe’s’ innocence. Orient then came to Turf
Moor and stole a point (0-0) with a resolute defence, in which Glenn Roeder was
outstanding. We seemed to be slipping back except there was nowhere else to fall. We were
still bottom.
At Luton on December 3rd, we could at last celebrate an
away win. Harry replaced Cochrane with Ingham, employing a 4-3-3 formation. It worked.
Both new signings got on the score sheet as we beat middle-of-the-table Luton 2-1. Better
still, Stevie Kindon scored a brilliant winner in the 1-0 home victory over sixth-placed
Charlton. Picking up the ball in midfield, Stevie stormed through the centre of the
Charlton defence before flicking the ball over the advancing keeper, Jeff Wood. This win
brought Burnley alongside Mansfield, who were then in 21st place.
Unfortunately, it proved to be two steps forward, three steps back.
First, Notts County gained ample revenge (0-3) at Meadow Lane, and then Blackburn beat us
(2-3) at a muddy Turf Moor on Boxing Day in front of over 27,000. In truth, we were never
in this game. We were 0-3 down at half time as David Wagstaffe, Keith Fear and the now
deceased Noel Brotherston ran riot. Only two late goals from Morley and a Noble penalty
restored a semblance of respectability. To complete the trio of woes we were badly beaten
at Boundary Park (0-2) with Vic Halom scoring a brace. Our only holiday point was secured
in a 0-0 home draw with Sunderland.
So ended 1977. Not one of my favourite years. On the up side were
the famous victories against those hated foes, the Australians and the Germans. On the
down side was the stuffy Jubilee. For heaven’s sake, did we really need to apply the
force of law to the Pistol’s boat ride? Did anyone seriously believe that Anarchy
in the UK was for real? Were we so jumpy, so rattled by the challenge of punk, that we
needed to employ strong-arm measures to suppress our moral panic? Tell me who was the real
Blank Generation?
Punk should have been celebrated more than it was condemned. At
least, it contributed a new slant. Like Vivienne Westwood’s fetishist designs, the
rubber wear and the like, put in a new context. Freed of their previous sexual
associations, they were re-framed as everyday garments. Not that they were everyone’s
cup of tea. Not in the Civil Service, at least. ‘Oh Bondage. Up Yours’?
Then there were the sneering put-downs. Some were glorious. ‘I
got no reason, it’s all too much, you’ll always find us… out to lunch.
We’re so pretty. Oh so pretty. We’re vacant!’ (Sex Pistols, Pretty
Vacant). ‘Career Opportunities. The ones that never knock. Every job they offer
you. Is to keep ya out the dock. Career Opportunities. They offered me the office. They
offered me the shop. They said I’d better take ANYTHING THEY GOT!’ (Clash, Career
Opportunities). Someone once said, and I paraphrase, that punk was a medium for people
who had a lot to say but had limited powers to say it. A bit sniffy, that. Personally, I
loved the do-it-yourself ethos, like the punk rock instruction, ‘Here’s a chord.
Here’s another. Now form a band.’ Rock music hadn’t sounded so fresh and
invigorating for years. It is probably the last time that rock music was the sound of
social rebellion. That baton seems to have passed to hip hop.
However, lest we forget, it was also the year of Saturday Night
Fever. In fairness, the film isn’t that bad if we edit out the Bee Gees. Staying
Alive? Unfortunately, yes. But can you credit anyone sporting a white suit in a disco?
I know Travolta was supposed to be the King of Cool, but in that Disco Inferno, he
would have needed a transfusion of reptile blood to stop his streaming sweat. Can you
imagine that suit of his with huge dark stains? Hmm. Tasty. And would he have pulled? I
don’t think so.
The Bolton game was the New Year fixture. I nearly didn’t go.
It was the final day of my leave and I was already depressed. Going to Burnden would just
twist the knife. After all, Bolton had won ten and drawn one of their eleven home league
games. Yet I knew that if I stayed at home, I’d only listen out for the bulletins on
Radio Blackburn. I went. It was cold with mist curling insidiously around the
streetlights. It was like The Exorcist weather, although I didn’t run into Max
Von Sydow. There was no Tubular Bells soundtrack either. But I didn’t fancy
the mushy peas with my chips.
Bolton were in prime form and top of the league. To make matters
worse, Kindon was out with injury. Harry played with three central defenders: Rodaway,
Thomson and Robinson. Ingham and Scott played as full backs and Brennan was moved into
midfield, alongside Noble. Cochrane and Fletcher were the front men with Morley licensed
to roam. It was a novel approach. Amazingly, it worked. Burnley’s movement was
terrific. Throughout the game, Burnley’s greater mobility severely troubled
Bolton’s back four of Peter Nicholson, Sam Allardyce, Mike Walsh and John Ritson.
With Morley, Brennan and Cochrane constantly switching positions, the Bolton defenders
were unsure whom they should be picking up. As a consequence, Brennan was allowed far too
much space to break through the inside left channel when he fired Burnley into a first
half lead. Bolton’s front men, Frank Worthington and Neil Whatmore, were anonymous.
Their supply route from Roy Greaves, Ray Train, Peter Reid and Willie Morgan was cut off
at source as Burnley pushed up, pressing and harassing at every opportunity.
After the break, it was more of the same and when Burnley were
awarded a free kick on the edge of the Bolton box, Brennan lashed in his second. Only a
late error by Cochrane let Bolton back in. According to fellow supporter Michael Bullen:
‘Cochrane was to blame for the Bolton goal after he had mucked
about with the ball on the edge of the Burnley area. As a result Jim Thomson… got
hold of Cochrane and practically throttled him.'
However, Whatmore’s goal proved irrelevant. Bottom had beaten
top. Suddenly I was not cold any more.
On the following Saturday, Fulham arrived for a Third Round FA Cup
game. As everyone knows, Fulham have a sacred duty to lose every match at Turf Moor. They
proved to be as pious as always, even though it took a mishit shot by Fletcher to fool
ex-Claret keeper Gerry Peyton. Peyton had played a blinder. Fifteenth placed Stoke were
next up and they went away empty-handed, too, after Stevie Kindon had crashed through
their defence to head over Roger Jones. Burnley were off the bottom at last. Garth Crooks
came on as Stoke’s substitute, replacing Terry Conroy. Better times were awaiting
Garth. Better times were awaiting Burnley as well. The Stoke win was followed up by a draw
(1-1) at Palace. Peter Noble’s first half goal enabled Burnley to climb another place
and leave the relegation zone.
But before we got carried away by this resurgent form, there was
the Fourth Round tie at Stamford Bridge to take in. I’ll let Harry tell the story:
‘We got off to a dream start when Paul Fletcher out-jumped their defence to score a
brilliant goal after 25 seconds. Fate once again stepped in when Chelsea equalised (Droy)
and then a deflected shot (Wicks) and a rather harsh penalty against Keith Newton (Swain)
gave us an uphill battle, especially when Peter Noble scored a well-taken goal only to be
judged offside… At half time we were two goals down when we could easily have been
winning by goals and by merit, for the team had put on a great performance. Tony Morley
came on in the second half and we had to throw caution to the wind and go all out for a
goal or two. We went close on several occasions and had a good share of the game, but with
being committed to going forward, Chelsea were given space to counter-attack and scored
their other goals (Walker, Langley and Ray Wilkins) through this before Steve Kindon
scored a good goal with a great left foot shot. I am convinced that the game could have
turned out much better for us if we had the breaks in the first half. All the players
played their hearts out and deserved something to show for their efforts.’
Harry’s frustration was turned up a notch or two on the
following Saturday, when a late, late piledriver from David Peach enabled third-placed
Southampton to escape with a point (3-3). Burnley had twice been two goals in the lead
thanks to Kindon (2) and Cochrane. Again, Kindon’s pace and power had scared the
pants off the opposition. His second goal was particularly memorable for having raced 40
yards down the left touchline in Panzer mode; he then had the composure and sureness of
touch to slip the ball past the advancing Eric Martin. Admittedly, Saints’ eccentric
‘keeper was way off limits but the precision of Kindon’s finish was awesome.
Stevie had more in his locker than a club. Ted MacDougall and Phil Boyer had brought
Southampton back from the dead. But having benefited from Saints’ generosity at the
back, Burnley should have slammed the door. Unfortunately, they were minded to return the
compliment.
The mini revival in league form came to an end at fourth-placed
Brighton on the 11th February. It was played on a half-thawed surface, slippery
on top and hard underneath. All the players had difficulty in keeping their feet. However,
Burnley acquitted themselves well and were on top for most of the first half. It counted
for nought, though, for right on the stroke of half time, Malcolm Poskett was the
beneficiary of a poor clearance and tucked his chance away eagerly. Burnley disputed the
goal. Certainly, Poskett appeared to have been offside as the deflection reached him. It
made no difference. Brighton still went in one goal to the good. Scott soon changed that
after the break when he thundered in a twenty five-yard drive. But for all their
domination subsequently, Burnley couldn’t turn the screw. In fairness, it was well
nigh impossible for anyone to maintain their balance around goal, where the conditions
were at their worst. Therefore, it seemed particularly harsh when Brennan was penalised
for colliding with Peter Ward inside his own area. Again, Brighton seized their
opportunity, as Brian Horton stroked the penalty past Stevenson (1-2).
Burnley managed to secure two successive draws at Millwall (1-1)
and at Bristol Rovers (2-2), but these points weren’t enough to prevent them slipping
back into the relegation zone. The home game with Sheffield United on March 11th
was crucial. It was the day on which Arab terrorists killed 37 Israeli bus passengers.
Somalia had just surrendered to Ethiopia and Moloccan gunmen were about to seize 72 Dutch
hostages. Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights was top of the charts. At halftime it
felt more like ‘Withering Depths’. Simon Stainrod had put the Blades ahead and
they seemed comfortably in control. But come the second half, there was a blinding
transformation. Four goals were smashed past the reeling Blades in those forty five
minutes. Cochrane grabbed two and Noble (penalty) and Ingham shared the remaining spoils.
This power display again lifted Burnley towards safety.
In midweek, there was the key return fixture with Mansfield. That
day 7,000 Israeli troops stormed into Lebanon to strike at Palestinian camps as a reprisal
for a further terrorist attack on a Jewish bus. It was the same day on which I was giving
evidence in a fractious High Court case in London. However I managed to prevail upon the
judge to hear me early. I carefully concealed the details of my urgent appointment in the
North West. If only my work was touched by the same resourcefulness I employ to get to
football games, my career could have been unstoppable. Anyway, it was worth the effort. It
was a night of unrelenting rain. But Burnley were untroubled after Fletcher had blasted
them into a first half lead. Kindon wrapped it up and 10,000 of us didn’t mind the
soaking one bit. At Hull, on Saturday, we romped home (3-1), stretching the gap between us
and our relegation rivals to four places.
Easter Saturday was grey, cold and blustery with frequent showers
of rain, sleet and snow. The Amoco Cadiz had sunk on the previous day, spewing oil onto 70
miles of Brittany’s coastline. The Cambridge boat also sunk a mile from home in a
choppy Boat Race. As for deposed Pakistani premier Bhutto, his appeal against execution
seemed equally doomed. Abba invited us to Take A Chance On Me, Gerry Rafferty was
stuck on Baker Street, Eruption sang for us all on I Can’t Stand The Rain
and ELO promised Mr Blue Sky. But worst of all, Colin Cameron broke into the charts
with Ally’s Tartan Army. It was bad enough not qualifying for the World Cup in
Argentina. It was bad enough watching the Scots gloat. But having this abysmal,
cringe-worthy song on top of that. It was too much.
The mushy conditions were no problem to Burnley. Oldham were
crushed (4-1). Kindon’s effort still remains with me. It typified the man. Presented
with an open goal at point blank range, a tap would have sufficed. Not for Stevie. He
absolutely leathered that ball. Hacks often refer to net-breaking shots. Stevie seemed
intent on roaring life into the cliché. Magnificent.
Easter Monday was quite different. On a bright, breezy afternoon,
Donna Summer’s I Feel Love seemed to waft around Ewood. So did Terry
Cochrane’s shot. For it twisted and curled on the wind before nestling in the corner
of the net behind John Butcher. It was enough (1-0). A hard fought draw at Bloomfield Road
(1-1) on the following day almost ensured safety, and earned Harry a Bell’s Manager
of the Month award. Burnley were playing with style now, and on April 1st they
were good enough to end promotion-bound Spurs’ unbeaten run of nineteen games (2-1).
A 4-2 victory of Cardiff took Burnley to the dizzy heights of fourteenth. Although two
consecutive games were lost in London, the season ended on a high with sunny league
victories against both Fulham (2-0) and Luton (2-1).
The final upbeat aspect of that season was the form of the Youth
team, who managed to reach the semi-finals of the FA Youth Cup before going out to Villa
(1-4 on aggregate). In that side were Lee Dixon, Phil Caverner, Andy Wharton, Kevin Young
and Brian Laws.
The obvious man of the season was Stevie Kindon. Rarely does one
imported player make such a huge difference to a struggling team. Stan Collymore did at
Southend in 1992/93. But such examples are rare. Stevie was a colossus in 1977/78.
Arguably, he was never as good again. In that one season, though, he was unstoppable. A
Blackburn fan derided Burnley’s tactics as ‘let Kindon chase it.’ As Stevie
pointed out, this assessment had some truth in it, but chasing was his strength. He could
complete 100 metres in just over 10 seconds. Burnley learnt how to make best use of him,
and thank God they did. For me, he was nothing short of inspirational. In a year plagued
by personal doubt, prevarication and hesitancy, Stevie was the perfect antidote. Watching
him surge forward, oblivious to the obstacles in his way, gave me a huge vicarious buzz. I
would travel miles, ignoring more pressing commitments (yes, there were a few), just to
see him power through flailing tackles, shrug off shirt pullers and bounce body checkers.
Everything was set at full pelt with Stevie. If he had a control panel like Spinal Tap all
the dials would be pointing at 11. He had the perfect combination of mass and speed. He
was a human pinball. Anyone hit by Stevie immediately qualified for a replay. They would
also probably qualify for BUPA. He would cause the lights to flash and the place to throb
as huge numbers whirred round. Neither clinging mud nor driving rain could hold him back.
Some of his goals were quite deft, but those that I really loved were his thunderbolts. It
was part of that same high-octane piece that I began to gag for. I reckoned that he would
have been prepared to run straight through the Cricket Field Stand, if a long ball
demanded it. Big Stevie Wonder, this was your year.
