"Better with ten
men"
Plymouth Argyle 1 Burnley 3, Play-off Semi-final Second leg, 18 May 1994
This was one of the most traumatic,
memorable, nail-biting, exciting games I have ever witnessed and will live in my memory
for a very long time. As you all know I’m sure, the first leg ended in a 0-0 draw, a
game where we had the chances to win and, even when the opposition were reduced to ten
men, we couldn’t drill home the advantage. The Plymouth fans were ecstatic at the
result and sang the unforgettable song, "we’re better with ten men." This
team who had finished a massive twelve points ahead of Burnley in the league seemed to be
sure of a place at the twin towers; they only had a easy home game against a side with an
unenviable away record. The local papers boasted of how all the coaches in the area had
been booked for the trip to Wembley and people had to venture as far as Torquay to find
any available transport. This article was to backfire and smash egg in the faces of all
concerned at Plymouth.
Even as the tannoy announced the teams they also
told you where to purchase your Wembley tickets the very next day! As you can imagine, the
2,000 or so of us behind the goal on that bleak open terrace were slightly intimidated by
this in a match only our true faith and wildest dreams told us we could win. The
comparative end of season form of the teams couldn’t have been more different.
Plymouth had finished with three straight wins, including an 8-1 mauling of poor old
Hartlepool, whilst Burnley had won only one of five, finishing with a thrashing at Exeter.
The omens didn’t look good for the Clarets side with four away wins all season, but
you’ve got to have faith and I’m sure all the traveling support believed in
those boys in Claret and Blue! Don’t shatter my illusions and tell me you thought we
would be thrashed.
The match started as we all dreaded, with
Plymouth pouring forward and putting the thin claret defensive line under relentless
pressure. I don’t remember Burnley having a single touch for at least the first five
frantic minutes of the encounter. Then, as all of Plymouth expected and most of Burnley
feared, the breakthrough came. Fifteen minutes into the game Plymouth broke forwards only
to be stopped abruptly by the outstretched leg of John Deary --- oops! The referee
immediately awarded a free kick 25 yards out on the left corner of the box, Marlon lined
up his wall as a few Plymouth players hovered around the ball. We watched and held our
breath as Dwight Marshall stepped up and with brilliant right foot strike found the top
corner with the accuracy of a player far above his level.
This strike seemed to wake Burnley up and their
level of play improved over the next quarter of an hour. The behaviour of the Plymouth
fans however did not, as they directed the most offensive chants I have ever heard towards
Super Johnny Francis every time he touched the ball. These idiots seemed to forget the
colour of the striker who had just given them the lead. This was a disgraceful act that
was to bring shame on the Devon side and a huge grin to the face of John Francis by the
end of the game.
Burnley finally decided to make a fight of the
game, but Plymouth continued to push forward looking for that second goal to kill off the
Lancashire lads. One such attack was halted by Pender and the ball fell the feet of Inchy.
His first time ball down the centre of Home Park found perfectly the run of Francis, whose
pace was electric as he ran past the hopeless defenders as if they weren’t there and
stroked the ball past the advancing keeper and into the net. He stood there in the middle
of pitch dancing up and down, mimicking the monkey he apparently was! As the celebrations
were dying down on the terraces Plymouth moved forwards, but again were stopped by a
brilliant tackle and exactly the same happened again, the defence splitting ball again
coming from Heath, and Francis ran at the defence with no fear as they fell over in his
wake. He evaded the last desperate attempt to stop him and smashed the past the helpless
Nicholls and there was an element of delirium on the terraces.
Although we were put under some pressure before
the break, half time was reached with comparative ease as we sat back, kept our fingers
crossed and dreamed of those twin towers. Well we need not have worried because I’m
not sure what Peter Shilton said to his team at half time, because they never really
appeared in the second period. They produced one of the most abject performances I’ve
ever seen for a team on the verge of a Wembley appearance. The sweet song of
"you’re better with ten men" began to ring out across the ground as the
minutes ticked by and our confidence grew. The Tin man weaved his magic down the wing
throughout the second half and was unlucky not increase the lead, as was John Pender whose
effort from a corner was cleared away at the last minute by a desperate defender.
Warren Joyce had also come in for his fair share
of stick in both games; he started the second match warm-up wearing the Mark
Leather’s "$JUDAS$" training top, as a message to the home fans as to why
he left the Devon side earlier that summer. On 80 minutes he finally got his revenge and
sent the Clarets following into raptures. Tin Man attacked down the right wing and turned
three defenders inside out before reaching the touchline and laying the ball back for
Joyce, who gleefully tapped the ball home and sent us all to Wembley. Then we knew Wembley
was ours and the celebrations started. A conga line began to work its way around the
terraces as everyone began to sing every Wembley song you ever heard of and some we made
up on the night. The last ten minutes was a party really. I’m not sure what happened
on the pitch, I was too busy singing and dancing around to care. The final whistle blew.
Some jumped onto the pitch, others including myself hung from the perimeter fencing to
congratulate our heroes; if I still tell the story to my friends of how Tin Man shook my
hand and wore my scarf, I’m sorry but it’s a great story. We were kept in the
ground for what must have been quite a while but we didn’t care at all, we just sang
our victory songs. Although the victory at Wembley was one of the best feelings of my
life, I’m sure if you were there with me that heady night in Devon you may agree it
was just edged by the glorious performance that night!!!!!!!!!
Plymouth Argyle: Nicholls,
Patterson, Hill, Burrows, Comyn, McCall, Barlow, Castle, Landon, Marshall, Dalton,
Burnett, Newland, Naylor.
Burnley: Beresford,
Parkinson, Thompson, Davis, Pender, Randall, McMinn, Joyce, Heath, Francis, Eyres,
Farrell, Smith, Williams.
Julian Booth
May 2000
More from this night in
Plymouth
