Clarets in shock cup result
Barnet 0 Burnley 1, 31 October 1999
Firmo
Quite what the armchair viewer must have
made of this was anyone's guess. Surely this match would have had little to offer the
neutral. That said, I naturally believe there is no place for neutrality in football. I
despise Murdoch and his works, and deplore the part Sky has played in destroying our game.
I was, therefore, almost glad that this game was a dire affair. I hope the watching few
turned off their sets at half time and contemplated cancelling their subscriptions. It's
only unfortunate that we had to sit through this crap.
There always will be something not quite right
about watching football in Barnet. As I made my way to stand early outside the meeting
pub, all around me was leafy, sleepy Sunday suburbia. A couple of blokes in
Barnet-coloured rugby shirts gave the only hint that a football match might be taking
place. If ever the old gag about following the crowds and ending up in Sainsbury's had any
reality, it was here. League football has landed somewhat incongruously in this town where
London runs out and the uniform acres of middle class hell begin. In the startling sun of
a day from summer at a time when many expect to still be abed, it was hard to convince
ourselves that the game held meaning. The surroundings, an odd accumulation of bits of
stands, didn't help. We were seated on a temporary structure with hollow insides, of the
kind you see at the better county shows, with low-slung seating, no space for legs and a
tendency to wobble if too many people stood up at once. (It took us a while to grasp the
possibilities this offered; any second half corner or free kick was greeted with a rising
tattoo of pounding legs, causing the stand to shake and the stewards to look bemused.)
Oh well, the match itself was shit. The first
half was an abomination. Whoever coined the phrase 'the beautiful game' didn't have this
in mind.
Ternent's team selection was intriguing, to
speak euphemistically. With Johnrose, whose recent scurrying performances had done
something to restore his reputation, out, our leader decided to reinstate the thoroughly
discredited Micky Mellon. This meant moving everyone else around. Johnrose had been
playing on the left, but Mellon was in the middle. So the predominantly right-sided Little
was pushed to left, and Mullin was moved from centre to right. All this musical chairs to
accommodate a player who did justice to the non-league surroundings with another display
straight out of the reserves. Wouldn't Weller, unused sub, have been a better and more
straightforward swap?
If it sounded like the perfect recipe to produce
a disjointed team, it worked. We only sporadically showed anything like the joined up
football of which we are capable. We couldn't get hold of the game. Thankfully (and while
the inadequacies of our own team are always much more interesting than the opposition's)
Barnet were no good either. Although their supporters kept reminding us that they were
'top of the league', I sincerely hope that they have had to play better than this to get
there. Meanwhile, I have rarely heard a Burnley end so silent. We were mostly bored. The
worst thing about those seats is that it was impossible to fall asleep in them. I know. I
tried.
Several of our lot turned in performances below
their best. The centre of defence, while never reaching the levels of porousness it did
against Scunthorpe, looked less solid than we come to expect. Thomas was casual where he
should have been ruthless, and Davis wandered far and wide away from position and to
little effect. A couple of times he was caught upfield when they played an early ball.
West can't pass, but he will keep trying, while Smith was anonymous, and was replaced at
half time by the equally anonymous Armstrong.
In midfield, Cook was taking it easy, doing fine
but not running the game as he can. Mullin was lost on the right side, seemingly unsure of
where he was supposed to be playing. There were several occasions when a move broke down
simply because there was no one there on the right. It made you realise how valuable
Little's presence usually is. As for Burnley's most talented player, he had a good game
out of position on the left. It must have confused whoever had been ordered to mark him at
least. While I still feel he doesn't take his man on enough these days, and too often
plays the early cross, he was our most effective player of the first half, acting as an
outlet for the defence, able to hold the ball up and play it into the box.
Unfortunately, Payton looked off colour. He must
have got over the runs by now, or can the runner he did from the cops still be on his
mind? Whatever, he wasn't himself here, and looked laboured and out of it. Alongside him,
Cooke was as industrious as we expect, working hard to make the most of what was often a
lonely task, and proving to his critics that he has ball skill too.
There was one moment that took us from our seats
in the first half. Little broke free, played a good cross in and Mullin stuck it away. Cue
polite celebrations, followed by the realisation that the linesman had his flag up for
offside. Those with mobile phones quickly did the necessary, and reported back that it
looked dubious on tv. Impossible to judge this from the shallow angle of the temporary
stand, with perspective flattened past the half way line.
We imagined the half time analysis. 'So, Barry,
err, both sides still feeling each other out at this stage.' Or probably, 'Coming up, more
adverts for the Scotland-England match'. We wondered if they would show the second half,
or find some cartoons that really needed an airing. It was far from the 'classic cup
encounter' with lots of 'flowing football' that their manager's programme notes had
promised. I'll have a pint of whatever he's on, please.
The second half was better. I suppose it had to
be, really. Early on it was bad enough, but gradually the side seemed to work out that we
probably could win it. Prompted by Little's probings on the left and considerably aided by
Cooke's perseverance in attack, we started to create chances. Mullin strode through from
midfield but couldn't find the finish, and Little once or twice wriggled past clusters of
defenders, finishing one crazy long run with a shot only just wide. He also beat the same
player four times before putting in a cross. Some criticise this as extravagant. I think I
like extravagance.
Mullin contrived a miss of epic proportions.
Stood at the goaline, the keeper lost, the hapless one could have gobbed at it and it was
in. A judiciously aimed sharp exhalation of breath would probably have seen it over the
line. How Mullin managed to whack it against a crossbar that he was virtually stood
beneath is a mystery that the combined ranks of Arthur C Clarke and Carol Vorderman would
not manage to explain. Perhaps we should blame the forces of darkness. It was Halloween,
after all.
Staggering stuff. The arcane legend of Brendan
O'Connell's Miss At York was once again dusted off and recalled. (With each passing year
he gets nearer the goal and puts the ball higher over the bar.) While sages declared that
it was not, could not, be quite as bad as that, it was certainly the miss of the season so
far. Yes, even worse than Graham Branch's Miss At Oldham.
It could have counted against us. Barnet had
chances. That they didn't score was partly down to the ineptness of their antique frontman
Charlerly, partly down to the sharp reflexes of Crichton. They missed chances, but
Crichton pulled off one blinding point blank save.
Mercifully, we had a joke goal to seal this crap
game. A short corner with Little that didn't particularly work out came back to Cook. He
looked up and flipped the ball back into the far post danger zone. All watched as it
curled just in. Cook would later claim it was intentional, but the look of amused delight
as he ran to the crowd seemed to tell its own story. No objections to this, really: Cook
was in the right place to make the chance, and even joke goals tend to come as a result of
attacking pressure.
Ternent promptly took off Payton and of course
Little before the match restarted. Ah, we all said, he hasn't wasted any time in holding
on for what we have. But you can't make substitutions that quickly. You have to get
players warmed up and stripped off, get the fourth official to prat around with the board
of four number eights. Ternent had already decided to make those substitutions before the
goal went in. He must already have had a mind to settle for the draw. Losing the
struggling Payton was fair enough, but Little?
Jepson immediately thundered a header against
the bar. He then settled back into midfield, at one point earning a routine yellow for a
tackle only slightly less scary than the Blair Witch Project. The other sub Lee looked
determined to make the most of his rare opportunity, but still comes across as a
confidence player short of confidence.
The game wound down with barely a whimper from
Barnet. Despite their pumpkin-coloured shirts, this was to be no Halloween disaster for
Burnley. The Sky curse, the Sunday hoodoo, even the London hex (for those of you with long
memories) were all shown to be old wife's tales which couldn't stand up in the cold light
of day. Regardless of myths, and in defiance of Sky (who showed this game because they
thought Barnet might win) when a side doing well in a higher division plays a side doing
well in a lower division, the higher division side can usually expect to win. It might
even be like this Burnley side playing the one that shagged it against Darlington a year
ago. I think we know what the result would be.
Reading back, I've probably been a bit harsh.
The team were probably aware that they didn't need to play the game at full speed. With
three points at stake two days later, who would want us to? I suspect players like Thomas
and Cook (the pun's already been done) know exactly what level of work is needed to take
us through this kind of game, and will do no more. We did enough, it wasn't thrilling, but
the result was everything. A draw would have flattered them, but then we would have
expected to win a replay. And for once, nice not to fall at the first hurdle. This was
Ternent's first win in any kind of cup for Burnley.
Plunged back into leafy suburbia hunting beer.
This was no cup nightmare.
Team:
Crichton, West, Smith (Armstrong 46), Davis, Thomas, Mellon, Cook, Mullin, Little (Jepson
75), Payton (Lee 75), Cooke. Subs not used: Brass and Weller.
London Clarets Man of
the Match: (1) Paul Crichton, (2) Glen Little, (3) Andy Cooke, (4) Paul Cook.
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