Sunshine, beer, T-shirts and trains
Dawlish 0 Burnley 4, pre-season
1998
Hego
The wife still doesn’t believe
me. How could I possibly have known that our annual holiday in Devon/Cornwall would
coincide with the Clarets’ pre-season trip to that part of the world! Don’t
think I’ve lost brownie points before the season has even started, but best not
forget her birthday just in case.
For those who don’t know, Dawlish is a
small Devon seaside town a few miles north of Torquay. Following the enormous interest
shown at the AGM in a London Clarets trip to said game, our illustrious Travel Secretary
obliged, and it was at the Marine Hotel that I finally met up with this intrepid band of
explorers. The sun shone, the drum majorettes twirled and the train spotters did their
thing. Note main Exeter to Plymouth line runs immediately in front of the bar. Why
isn’t Burnley like this?
As Becko plus missus entered the fray, and
little Firmo too, we repaired to the public house of Paul Burrows’ past, the Prince
of Wales, to meet the man with no arms. Led with great purpose and no little turn of speed
by Andrew Livingstone Firmin, complete with map and copy of relevant beer guide entry. A
challenge to the bearded wonder Mr Wood, methinks. As Buzzo’s last visit here was in
1974, needless to say the limbless one did not appear in the P.O.W., but the murals and
artefacts therein made up for the loss. Unfortunately Pete Marsden was there, which
scuppered our ambitious scheme to corner the market in Dawlish Town programmes, and
thereby sell (or maybe not) said document at an inflated price to our beloved absent
Treasurer, one Michael E Benyon. Sad.
However, the real fun of the day (?) was about
to begin. Having negotiated a minibus to the ground which Smithy (B) contrived to miss, we
muscled our way through the crowds and onto the "Longside," a perfectly sloped
grass bank designed for sleep in the sunshine. This was a big game for Dawlish, who had
never previously played against a professional team outside Devon, and there was a crowd
awaiting the teams of about 300, admittedly mainly Clarets: Colne Clarets, Littleborough
Clarets, the inimitable Shaggy Dog and a blond haired Dave Burnley.
Bit difficult to judge the current state of the
Clarets in a game like this. The probable first team played the first half and scored
twice through a Payton penalty following a trip on Cookey, and a tap in again from Payton
just before half time. Cookey looked sharp, as did Brass and the much travelled Morgan at
full back. Little looked overweight to me, but aggressive, which led to an early
substitution.
Half time led to a rush out of the ground to the
toilets, and to the clubhouse to partake of the Dartmouth Bitter at £1 a pint, and to buy
a Dawlish Town T-shirt. Smithy, having caught up with the troupe, was, needless to say,
already there.
The second half saw simple goals from
Carr-Lawton and Smithy (P), but little from the home side to trouble Parks and Mawson,
except for one sharp header. Mister Weller didn’t make an appearance, but Howey did,
which I am sure is delightful news for us all. Also, when standing behind the goal in the
second half, I was joined by Teasdale, slumming it with the plebs, but I decided
discretion might be the best response. Chris Brass did remark upon the absence of
Teasdale’s armchair and drinks cabinet when the subs ran around the pitch, which made
me laugh, and Cookey asked to be remembered to the London Clarets. Good man!
All in all a fine day out, a 4-0 win, sunshine,
beer, trains - what more could a self respecting Claret want, apart from three league
points?
Team: Parks (Mawson),
Brass (Robertson), Winstanley (Blatherwick), Moore (Howey), Morgan, Little (Henderson),
Ford, Williams, Payton, Cooke (Carr-Lawton), P Smith.
