So it’s over. The talking, planning and
arguing had ended, and so has the Longside, now reduced to rubble but soon to be
resurrected as a sparkling new stand, which will... well it just won’t be the same,
will it?
I know that some people have been frustrated by the lack of
progress regarding the plans over the last two years, but a large part of me finds it
obscenely quick. After all, the team aren’t going anywhere fast, or so it seems.
When I first went to Turf Moor in January 1971, I stood at the top
of what was to become the away section. On my fourth trip at Easter of the same year, I
discovered that I was not alone and that others were travelling up from London too,
although these people stood not only on the Longside, but in other areas too. Later I
graduated further back to the section termed the ‘obscenity barrier’, where such
people as ‘Nuzzler’ and ‘Dustbin’ stood.
In those early days I would get onto the Turf at about 2.15, and
you would often find a group of away fans situated at the top of the Longside, claiming
they had ‘taken it’. Burnley supporters would wander idly around, stand and eat
fish and chips (which you could get on the ground in those days!) and generally ignore the
group, until between 2.40 and 2.50, when gradually they found themselves moved to where
the Longsiders decided they ought to be. Often this was the Bee Hole End. I recall one
game against Derby, when the Rams followers found first a group on their left, then
another on the right and finally in front of them, at which point the Longside erupted
into a chant of ‘You are surrounded’, which was when the East Midlanders
realised that they were indeed hemmed in on all sides. Of course, when the likes of Man
Utd, Liverpool and Leeds visited, all that went out of the window. You just stood where
you could and the Burnley ‘end’ was spread all over the Longside, but you knew
where they were when Burnley scored.
Once, against Arsenal, the visitors were leading 1-0 and Alan Ball
was having a splendid game controlling the midfield. The Longsiders began to sing ‘We
all hate Ball and Ball and Ball, we all f*£%(@#g hate Ball’. This went on non-stop
for a full twenty minutes, at the end of which he didn’t want any part in the action.
At one point he received the ball while facing the Longside, and in his confusion he
kicked it straight into touch to thunderous applause. Ball was destroyed and we won the
game 2-1. Many years later the ‘Jimmy Mullen’s Claret and Blue Army’ chant
at Derby made the headlines, but the regular simple chant of ‘Burnley’, which
not only lifted the team but frightened the opposition as well, went on for fifteen or
twenty minutes even then.
Another memory for me of standing on the Longside on a special
night (for night matches, of course, have an atmosphere of their own) was the Celtic
match. Throughout the first half, but more so after Steve Kindon had scored, all you could
hear was the sound of breaking glass, as all manner of bottles were lobbed over the
segregation fence from the Celtic hordes. As the half wore on the aim got better and the
range got longer, and we were forced to retreat further back towards the Bee Hole. Then it
all seemed to go quiet, and I mean a deathly hush, an amazing peace considering the size
of the crowd. You just knew that something was going to happen. Out of the silence came a
hammering, a metallic thud ringing into the night air. The match was continuing and all
eyes were on it, but ears and minds were on the ominous noise. People began to realise
that the metal railings separating the fans were being knocked out. A growing tension
festered. Then they came through. Amazingly, there were a lot of green and white on our
side of the barrier anyway, and when the mob came through they attacked anyone, including
their own. Many of both colours escaped onto the pitch as both teams were led off. I think
that was the only time I have been frightened on the Longside. I think we made it onto News
at Ten that night and I will never forget the look on my boss’ face at work the
next morning. He was genuinely amazed to see me safe and sound (looking terrible, but I
think that was the effects of the Standerwick bus journey home rather than the events on
the Longside).
Another memorable night saw the celebrations during and after the
Sunderland game when we won promotion back to the first division after a two year absence.
We had to win and we did 2-0, but I missed the clinching second goal as I was busy writing
‘Burnley are back’ in lipstick on the back of a fellow Clarets who was
determined to make it onto the pitch.
The smallest Longside crowd I stood with was for a midweek Texaco
Cup match against Norwich City during the miners’ strike of the mid 70s. About 2,000
plus still managed to create that special atmosphere.
The last time I stood on the Longside was for the game against
Reading in 94-95. It was terrible weather, a dreadful performance and a lousy journey
home, but in its way, memorable for all those things.
I didn’t make it to the final game against Hull, not being
able to get to Turf Moor so often these days. I had been saying goodbye for the last
couple of years. People may have spotted me lingering on the Bee Hole looking wistfully
back towards the place where years of memories were stored, and wondered what I was doing.
Well, I never knew if I would see it again, and as it happen, I was right, as we only had
one week’s notice.
So it’s gone, and I’m sad. I’ll miss it and I guess
I’m not alone. So thanks for the memories, sorry of I’ve bored you with them for
too long, but I’m sure that before long you will have your tales of the new North
Stand or even the executive boxes therein. I look forward to them.
