Last chance to see
Our Special Correspondent
Todd Morden looks forward to Saturday's valedictory trip to South Manchester.
So, this Saturday we're off to Edgeley Park, home of Stockport County. If you're going, do your best to enjoy the game. Take a good look around. Savour your surroundings.
We won't be going back.
Yes, finally, this is where Stockport's attempt at making Burnley their rivals must end. I say they've done well to keep it going so long, but now, finally, it's over.
We never could take Stockport particularly seriously, but now we've been joined in that verdict by the rest of football. The judgement on Stockport is unanimous. They're a joke club. They're going down. They're going to stay down. Saturday, my friends, is your last chance to see this bizarre club close up.
Where their claims to rivalry began is something that eludes me. Some time, I think, in the late 1980s, I started to become aware that this small club that always played on a Friday night really didn't like us. It made me sad, and even sorry for them. We are Burnley, and we know who our rivals are. But they didn't seem to have any. I suppose I could understand why. Stockport is neither one place nor the other, neither in Manchester nor out of it. It's unimaginable that either of the Manchester clubs would ever give them a moment's interest, while Cheshire isn't the sort of place where people bother to like football. For whatever reasons, they decided instead to fall out with us.
Games between us grew ever more competitive, although their animosity towards us was never reciprocated. We always had other fish to fry. It culminated in the 1994 Second Division Play Off Final at Wembley. Stockport had two players sent off - one for spitting at one of our players and another for stamping on one - and we won 2-1 to get promoted to the First Division. For some reason, they blamed their sendings off on us. This was strange.
The day underlined how vastly superior Burnley are in every respect. We turned up in our tens of thousands. They commandeered a few taxis. They even lowered themselves to asking Man City supporters to turn up and pretend to support them. And when they started losing, at the national stadium, their supporters tore out their seats.
It should have been the final word, but Burnley blew it the next season, and before we knew it we were back down there. We played them away in August, and this was their day of days. They had their songs ready, and they hurled abuse at Burnley players, staff and supporters. Yet it didn't exactly feel like a cauldron of hate, probably because in their most eagerly awaited match of the season they still didn't manage to fill their ground. But those that were there did their best. Objects were thrown at the players. There was usually something like that there, whether it was an attempt to attack our manager or a pitch invasion to try to get to our players. I always found this odd, because they'd claimed one of the reasons they'd stayed away from Wembley was out of fear of Burnley supporters. Can you imagine finding any excuse not to go to a Play Off Final?
That, for what it's worth, is the historical context. In recent years the attempt to create an artificial rivalry appears to have died down somewhat. Perhaps, as we've rapidly consolidated our status as an established First Division club while they have concentrated on becoming widely known as football's least professionally run outfit, even they have realised how silly they look.
Which brings us to this season, in which Stockport have become the laughing stock of football. Always a shambles, this season they have offered a hilarious spectacle. Carlton Palmer is a clown par excellence, a real laugh a minute loser. After each defeat - and there have been so many - he amuses us with his off the cuff, unrehearsed badinage and repartee.
Unfortunately, Carlton's circus is shortly to leave town. It doesn't look like they'll be back soon. So marked is Stockport's evident decline that its hard to see how they'll halt their momentum, even after relegation. My honest opinion is that they'll crash straight through.
And so to Saturday, which marks the final parting of the ways. It's been a laugh, but now it's over. I feel it would be appropriate to mark the occasion in some way. The match should be promoted as a 'last chance to see' an endangered species. If you have never been to watch the Clarets in action at Edgeley Park, do so now, because this could be your last chance! There are always the cup competitions, I suppose - assuming they make it as far as the third round - but for matches where actual points are at stake, this could be a last. So do what you can. Buy a programme. Grab a pie. Maybe take some photographs.
It's a cliché, but in the words of the chant, we really never might play Stockport again. I call upon Clarets fans for an act of symbolism to mark this end of an affair. We should, I feel, have a mass, co-ordinated slow wave from the away section once the 90 minutes have passed. After all the amusement they have offered us, would it be so wrong for us all to all wave goodbye at once? So come on, join the wave. Wave goodbye to Stockport.
Thanks, Stockport. It's been fun. But all good things come to an end. You'll have your memories, at least.
Todd Morden
March 2002
From the archive - the strange case of Stockport County
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