What have the missing link,
Cleopatra’s needle with lights and 1970's style hooliganism all got in common? Throw
in a blonde haired ex-Claret striker, an ex-Munich United would be chairman. Still not
sure? It could only be the twilight zone where the style and savoir faire of the English
race meets the barbaric, miserly, skirt-wearing caber tossers from the north of the
British empire.
Yes, it's Carlisle.
Having said yet again that I would not visit this rest
home for the dead, or is it dead home for the rest, there I was at sunny Brunton Park
complete with a pass from the in-laws at Hexham.
Having survived the obstacle course to the ground, with
the help of a little gentle direction from Mr. Wood, I surveyed the three-sided ground
with floodlight pylons the size and shape of Cleopatra’s phallic symbol. My eyes
strayed to the baying Celtic hoards to the right of the Clarets terrace, and there they
were, neither man nor beast. I decided to delay my calls to David Attenborough and Desmond
Morris until later, to give them the good news after the anticipated victory pint.
The pre-match kick-in was noticeable for the complete
absence of the ball juggling Carlisle chairman. This was to be the only good news of the
following 90 minutes. Carlisle, led by Burnley loan reject Reeves, were not earth
shattering, but then, neither were the Clarets, as the first half meandered to a deserved
0-0. Neither side stringing together too many passes. The use of the verb to string in
this context has always worried me somewhat. How does the string get attached to the ball,
and wouldn't the players fall over said string?
The second half began with Francis replacing the
injured Geddo. Francis, to the horror of the support, trotted to right back! Joyce quickly
remedied the situation. Then, literally within ten seconds of the restart, Carlisle
substituted the unfortunate Peacock for an American by the name of Conway. Can you imagine
the half time team talk to Mr. Peacock. "Just give it ten and see how it goes."
Little did he know the manager meant seconds not minutes.
The American had an immediate effect, weaving his way
past numerous Clarets’ lunges, before his cross found Portsmouth reject Aspinall, and
he gave Marlene no chance. The turning point of the match came when Nogan contrived to
somehow put the ball over the bar from about one yard out with the keeper stranded. A
score then could have been decisive.
Inevitably Conway finished the game off after a move
involving the full back and Reeves. Reeves missed a sitter and Murray hit the post as the
Clarets stormed forward in search of deliverance. Cooke made a belated appearance for the
moribund Philliskirk in the final quarter.
It was inevitable perhaps that, without a substantial
Clarets support to fight, the Carlisle morons would turn on the police or even their own
brethren, and so it came to pass, most notably near the railway station. We had a
grandstand view from the adjacent local hostelry. Other points to mention: crowd 7000+,
more plain clothes policemen around than I can remember for some time, Terry Heilbron
refereeing (sic). The highlight of the day for me was the look on the face of the BR
ticket collector at Hexham, having received a withering response to his "Good result
wasn't it?"
