5th March 2007
Hi all,
Instalment number 972 of, "It's my website and I'll write what I want to!" presents a tale of what happens when two poor teams play a pretty dire game of football. Being fair I'm not sure how many fans of Crystal Palace and Burnley will want to remember it either, which probably means that someone ought to record the occasion.
Part of the reason Lorraine and I chose to go to Burnley was because it was the away ground left between now and the end of the season which is nearest to us. Of course, that's still nearly 200 miles, so it means an early start. I was up at about 7.15am on Saturday. 7.15am on a Saturday!
Stumbling around my house at that time in the morning I did question myself somewhat, especially as I had a cold. I had noticed Chloe's nose absolutely streaming on Thursday night, and before I knew it I was in a similar state. Just what you want when you're going to be spending around two and a half hours outside in Lancashire. There's never a good time to get a cold, but this was especially bad timing in my view.
Thankfully Chloe was just about over her cold, so she could spend the day with carefully selected babysitters (thank you, Lucy and Douglas). Lorraine and I left home at about 9.20am, and although I'd had two cups of tea before setting off it wasn't long before I wanted another. I'm used to having a sore throat after watching football, not beforehand. This wasn't a good sign.
Although Lorraine and I hadn't been to a proper away game for nearly five years (Play Off Finals don't really count because everyone is there) we've still remembered to be organised. We've got a bagful of snacks, drinks and sandwiches. "I'm glad we've packed some Lucozade," I say. "I reckon that's at least ?1.30 in a service station." When we finally get to Lancaster Forton services curiosity gets the better of me. One 330ml bottle of Lucozade costs ?1.89 there! One of these days I'm going to stock up on a huge amount of cans and sweets and sell them at cost value in a Service Station, just for the fun of it.
By that time it is around 11.30am. I figure we're probably an hour from Burnley, and I'm thinking about whether or not 12.30pm will be early enough to get a parking space. We hit the road, make good time and arrive in Burnley with time to i) visit an ATM, ii) fill up with petrol for the return journey and iii) be only about the fifth car to be parked in Burnley Cricket Club. I think we might have been just about early enough.
At this point I think it appropriate to mention how Burnley is talked about in guidebooks and football websites. Don't show colours, especially in your car. Be careful of the home fans. And don't eat anything in the ground itself. Well maybe I was lucky, but our car was fine (admittedly no colours on display), the locals we spoke to seemed to be very pleasant and I didn't feel threatened at all.
And the food in the ground? Let's talk about revelations, because if Palace fans wanted to compliment Burnley on anything following the game it was the catering, specifically the pies. When we got into Turf Moor Lorraine fancied something to eat, so we got both a meat and potato pie and a hot dog. I was hoping to get the pie, but once I'd taken one bite out of it Lorraine took it off me and polished the rest of it off. My consolation prize was the hot dog. A pretty good consolation prize actually, as the sausage actually tasted like meat (always a bonus) and the roll was nice as well. On top of that I actually managed to be served promptly and politely, which made me wonder if I was really in a football ground or not. I'm just not used to that.
With the sun beating down on a still-chilly afternoon the stage seemed perfectly set for the game. Umm, right? With that in mind it was a shame when it actually began with a similar intensity to that of Chloe's first birthday party. On the plus side between 3pm and full time we did see the following:
- Clinton Morrison's 94th goal for Palace, which led to an inevitable "Come on Clinton!" text message from Neil Taylor.
- One Burnley shot which ended up being so high and wide that it finished up two seats to my right.
- Burnley's PA Announcer on the pitch at half-time. It's nice to see that the Interceptor's jacket found a good home when the show finished all those years ago (fair play to him, at least he also welcomed us "outside in the sunshine").
- The non-pom-pom and non-outfit-wearing Burnley cheerleaders, who in spite of the seeming lack of investment still manage to be better than the Palace Crystals.
- The amusing "Pie and Chips" competition at half-time. Yet another copy of Soccer AM's "(We Are) Champions League"/"Road to Wembley" competitions, involving teams kicking balls into a giant pie. Apparently the two highest scoring teams will compete against each other at Burnley's last home game of the season, with the winner getting a "significant cash prize". Speaking with Douglas when we got home we don't think it can be any more than ?50.
So perhaps not the most memorable away trip I've ever been on, but a few things that I'll look back and laugh about. Pretty good value in all, and certainly more interesting to talk about with friends instead of the lie-in I sacrificed to make the journey.
Have a good week!
Tony
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