My dad had booked two seats on the coach leaving Morecambe that
evening at 4-30pm for Burnley. The Clarets were entertaining Bristol Rovers in a 4th
round FA Cup replay. It was to be a routine slaughter of an also run outfit from the lower
divisions. Adamson and McIlroy would dominate midfield, Pointer and Connelly would provide
the bullets just as they had three days earlier when earning the Clarets a 2-2 draw in
front of 35,000 at Bristol.
I explained the problem to my dad and his solution was both
predictable and simplistic. I was to tell Liz that I couldn’t do the detention as I
had a previous engagement at Turf Moor! Some hopes, I thought. Would she buy it? I had to
try, so at afternoon break I trudged along to the staff room. Miss Buck finally appeared
at the door. I explained my dilemma. Fortunately, Liz was quite keen on sport –
mainly hockey, I suspected – but from wherever her sympathy stemmed from did not
matter. I was reprieved. The detention was cancelled and replaced by my having to submit
an essay reporting the game. This would be a pleasure. I would drool in literary ecstasy
describing the slaughter of the Bristol lambs.
The coach was packed with loyal Morecambe Clarets, the atmosphere
jovial and optimistic. Dad had a quick pint or three which, as per usual, meant that we
were struggling to get on the ground for 7-30pm kick off time. He pointed me towards the
long queue for the juveniles on Brunshaw Road. He would meet me on the Cricket Field End.
I next saw Dad at the coach after the match. He had watched the game from the relative
comfort of the enclosure in front of the old main stand. I watched half the game from the
back of the Cricket Field End. There were over 41,000 of us on the Turf that night and the
cloth-capped hordes in front of me meant that I could only see half the field at the far,
Bee Hole End. Still, I saw a glorious drive from Jimmy Mac rocket into the net. Much of
the rest of the action is either lost in memory or lost in the half of the field obscured
by the throng. I do remember vividly the total feeling of deflation of a scoreline of
Burnley 2 Bristol Rovers 3.
As for the essay, Liz thought it was excellent –
"explicit and containing clear and powerful examples of pathos and emotion." But
perhaps detention might have been preferable.
