Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Burnley 2 Rotherham 0, 19 November 1999
Jo Tomlinson
Turf Moor was absolutely freezing as Burnley, in their Claret and Blue, lined
up against Rotherham, clad in white shirts and black shorts. Brrrrrrrrrr, talk about cold.
I snuggled into my fleece, glad that I'd dug my one jumper out of the wash basket after
all.
No apparent pre-match entertainment this week,
just a sparsely populated Turf Moor; even the Jimmy McIlroy Stand looked bare. Rotherham
had brought a respectable number of supporters, huddled together in the Cricket Field
Stand. You suddenly had the feeling that winter was upon us and memories of standing in a
freezing Turf Moor on cold November nights came flooding back to me.
The players ran onto the pitch. As Stan walked
past us, sporting a rather splendid new haircut, he got a few warm claps from the Bob Lord
faithful.
Burnley lined up as follows:
Crichton, West, Armstrong, Thomas, Davis,
Mellon, Mullin, Cook, Little, Cooke, Payton.
Subs were Branch (sporting a rather snuggly
looking grey bobble cap - obviously he's not keen on the cold either, bless him), Jepson
(far too hard to even think of such a hat), Lee, Brass and Johnrose.
3pm and it was kick-off. We had all the play in
the opening minutes and we remarked that this was, without doubt, going to be a Burnley
win. Davis headed a brilliant shot towards goal which the keeper tipped over the cross
bar, and that was the start of a half which saw the Rotherham keeper Pollit have a blinder
of a game. Talk about brilliant, he would've put Seaman and Schmichael to shame today.
Sign him up Stan were my first thoughts, this was a class keeper. Cookie had a shot that
went just wide, and there were many many early chances for Burnley. One member of the
Burnley Intelligentsia behind me noted the keeper's name and thereonafter shouted things
like 'Get on with it Pillock!' and thought that was hilarious. 'Come on Pillock' he yelled
repeatedly and guffawed loudly at his funniness.
Payton had possession in the goalmouth and was
close to scoring, but fell over with the goalie on top of him. Still he managed to have a
shot from the position of being sprawled on the ground. Their defender cleared it off the
line.
'Burnley Burnley give us a song' sang the
travelling collective of Rotherham fans, yet the Burnley fans remained strangely quiet.
Perhaps their voice boxes were temporarily frozen. Mine certainly was, despite the hotdog
I’d stuffed down my throat swiftly followed by coffee to try to warm me up.
As I looked around me I realised that there were
far too many empty seats and that Burnley, once again, had got it wrong. Why not charge a
quid a kid today? It would have boosted the numbers, I’m sure. Preston again enjoyed
the highest crowd of the FA cup against Enfield, even though they couldn't quite manage to
beat them (hahahah!). I believe we should've done something like that.
Anyhow, Burnley were still enjoying most of the
possession bar the odd shot from them, but to be honest they looked like a third division
outfit, with the exception of the goalie, and they never really posed much threat up
front. Payton at one point had a great shot on goal, it was flying in, but the dratted
goalie saved the damn thing! We all jumped up and promptly sat down again in disbelief.
Nevertheless, Payton looked up for it, he was clearly out to end his mini goal drought.
'Bloody Hell Branch' I yelled loudly as Cook
blundered with the ball. 'Branch?' said Andrew, enquiringly.
Damn, perhaps my concussion hadn't gone after
all. What the hell was I doing shouting at Branch who sat happily on the bench equipped
with woolly hat? I shrank back in my seat in embarrassment, not sure whether it was indeed
the concussion or possibly the early stages of brain disordered hypothermia. Did I mention
how cold it was?
Another Davis mega header, downwards into goal,
once again saved by the unstoppable wonder keeper, Pollit. (Sorry to be so repetitive, but
he really kept Rotherham in the game, he made loads of saves, which must mean that we had
loads of chances.)
Mellon then made the dive of a lifetime on the
edge of the area and was rewarded only by the ref waving to play on and the Rotherham
collective yelling 'Cheat Cheat'. Other than that, Mellon did naff all in the first half.
He jogged about aimlessly all over midfield failing to get into the game at all. So, no
change there then.
Little's skill was evident on the ball again,
and at one point in the first half he demonstrated that he really is superb; eventually,
after thwarting three defenders, he sent the ball into the area with a fantastic cross,
then we saw some ping-ponging backwards and forwards, the ball hitting the cross bar. We
all stood up and cheered, but somehow it hadn't gone in, then Cookie had a shot and that
didn't go in either, and sighs of ‘Ooh, Aah’ filled the air. This was one of
those 'ball not going in goal' halves.
At one point Cookie missed a ball, and failed to
go for it. Mr Intelligentsia behind me yelled 'You Effing Woman Cooke'. Hmm, I tried to
turn round to give him a Paddington hard stare, but I was so damned cold I couldn't muster
the energy to do so. Icicles by now must surely be forming on the end of my nose.
Half time came and yet again I failed to win the
thousand pound striker lottery. Ah well, another day. I made a trip to the ladies and my
hands were so cold I could hardly unzip my jeans. Possibly not relevant to a match report
I concede, but seriously, you have no idea how cold it was today. I queued up for a hot
chocolate and returned to my seat in time to catch the half time entertainment. Not the
Fire blower again surely? Luckily not, but this time a much more palatable relay race
around the pitch, which Bertie Bee joined in the end of, and won. Steady on Bertie, not
developing a personality are we?
Andrew suggested we moved up the other end of
the Bob Lord in the second half to see the Burnley goal fest that he was convinced was
going to happen. 'Move?' I said in horror. 'A bit irregular that isn't it?' Nope,
I wasn't going to risk it, call me superstitious, but I only ever sit on my seat and
certainly don't move at half time. Am I becoming equivalent to the Bob Lord Old Men in
Flat Caps? 'This is my seat, I’ve sat here since 1934 and I’ll sit here
‘til I die' sort of thing? Maybe.
Second Half and Burnley ran out unchanged. We
were quite poor in the opening minutes, but the fans of both sides obviously deciding that
the only solution to the collective hypothermia that we were all now suffering was to
inject some atmosphere into the game, so we all started singing. We laughed loads as one
guy in front of us, 25 seconds after the rest of the ground sang 'No-one likes us, we
don't care' in a male voice choir voice. Superb, and no he didn't do it on purpose, he was
just giving his all to the singing, and good on him too, but very amusing to listen to!
Cookie somehow managed to miss a one on one with
the keeper. We all jumped up to roar celebration but it went wide. How on earth did he
miss that then?
'E I E I E I O, up the football league we go'
sang the cheery Rotherham masses, as Rotherham suddenly came into the game a bit. We got a
bit nervy for a few minutes. Surely we were going to win this game, surely?
The Burnley fans responded with a few choruses of 'Stan Ternent's Claret and Blue Army'.
Davis made an evident foul on one of their players but got away with it somehow.
‘Boo’ jeered the Rotherham fans. Loads and loads of shots were then made by
Burnley, we hit the woodwork, we hit the keeper, we hit the woodwork again, the cross bar,
another brill save by their super duper keeper, and basically the ball was not going in.
We were so much better than them, but it wasn't going in, come hell or high water. I was
absolutely freezing by now, my fingers had gone blue, my nose felt as if it didn't belong
to me and I was getting besides myself with cold.
Just in time to save me from freezing up
completely, Paul Cook did what we really had to do to get a ball past their brill keeper
to end all other keepers. He slammed home a splendid shot from about thirty yards out, in
the style which is fast becoming his trademark. It went hurtling into the back of the net.
I couldn't believe it. We all jumped up and went mad. At last! Excellent, Burnley 1
Rotherham 0. Their crowd sat down in subdued horror and you could feel their
disappointment resonating across the ground. 'You're not singing any more' sang the
jubilant Clarets fans.
They then replied with a bit of pressure,
causing Crichton to punch a ball out clear, which was then sent back in, only to be
cleared by West off the line.
It was a case of 'Crossbars R Us' today. We just
kept hitting the crossbar. Then John Mullin, who had again made some excellent runs in
midfield, got the ball and produced a brilliant shot which flew high in the corner of the
goal. We all jumped up again and went wild. Cold? Who was cold now? We were warm on
atmosphere and jubilation. (Actually, truth be known, I was still freezing, but I’m
allowed a bit of poetic license.)
'Bring on the Bastards, Bring on the Bastards'
sang three sides of Turf Moor. One Rotherham fan stood up in the Bob Lord and yelled to
the lads on the front row 'Come on then, outside after the game, outside' and shook his
fists in an angry manner. Brilliant, I just love it when opposing fans start yelling
'outside'. Is that just me?
Suddenly my attention was taken away from what
was happening on the pitch by a Rotherham fan who from nowhere started to have a go at a
steward. Don't know why exactly, but he was pushing and shoving the stewards about, and
was not a happy bunny at all. The Police zoomed on in like something out of LA Cops, and a
bit of a to do came about in the away end. I’m always amazed that people get into so
much bother in their own end, but this guy was taken out and loads of police and stewards
crowded around.
Oh, there were some substitutions: Branch for
Armstrong, Jepson for Cook, (rapturous applause for Cook, the new Beckham of the second
division, although hasn't quite got the hair do), then Lee for Cookie. Mullin was named
man of the match, although it was undoubtedly their goalkeeper. More pressure from them, a
mega save from Crichton and finally the ref, who been mostly good for a change, blew his
whistle. I tried to clap, but my hands by now had gone completely numb. I must look out my
gloves for next time.
So, we're through to the next round of the FA
Cup. Bring on the big boys.
Team: Crichton, West,
Armstrong (Branch 78), Davis, Thomas, Mellon, Cook (Jepson 87), Little, Mullin, Cooke (Lee
90), Payton. Subs not used: Brass and Johnrose.
London Clarets Man of the
Match: Glen Little.
