It had been discussed at length whether to jump in a car to try to see a half each of Burnley’s friendlies at Crewe and Port Vale on Saturday. But now I’ve decided on a plan of military precision that includes a taxi, a train and a rush at either end on foot.
Both matches kick off at 3pm and the two are less than 15 miles apart along the A500 – it’s actually called the A500 derby when Crewe and Vale play each other. The issue was whether I could get in at one of the grounds at half-time, which I looked into, because no one will be manning the turnstiles. So, the thinking was if I can just walk into the ground I would do both.
Well, what I’ve actually done is feed Crewe a cock-and-bull story, saying I’m a wedding planner who will be at the Crewe register office but can’t get to the ground until just after 4pm. The club have said this is fine so I’m going to the Port Vale game first but will leave at about 3.35pm to catch a taxi that is waiting for me and a friend, Pete. We’ll be in the Hamil End because that’s right by Hamil Road where the taxi will be waiting, and it will take us to Longport train station for the 3.40pm to Crewe, which gets us in at 4.01. From there the ground is close so I think only five minutes of the second half of the second match will be missed.
The last Burnley game I missed in any competition was on 10 April 1974: Newcastle United away. It was rescheduled due to the bad weather six times from its original 1 December date and finally squeezed in without my knowledge.
Before then it was Ipswich Town away on 11 January 1969. I don’t have a wife, not in my situation – following a football team is like being married – though I do have a daughter, Clarette. It was quite contentious with her mother – there were three names that I proposed.
Ralphie – my nickname, after Ralphie Coates [the former Burnley player]. The second choice was Burnley so he or she would be called Burnley Burnley. But the mother did point out: “Imagine when you go to the front door and shout ‘Burnley Burnley.’”
So the third choice was Clarette – Clarette Anne Baloo (Claret and Blue) but she said she wasn’t having a daughter named after a Jungle Book character – Baloo – so it was then Clarette, the very feminine Clarette. I, of course, changed my name to Dave Burnley the day after we got relegated from the top tier in May 1976 – it cost £7.50.
I actually played for Burnley in Mallorca in 1979 during one trip. I came on the pitch for Leighton James for the last few minutes and scored. I was over there by myself, no other Burnley fans had gone, and was sleeping rough in an old aerodrome between the airport and Palma. They had played in Mallorca in 1977, as well, when I was the only one there then too. The club didn’t generally inform fans of the locations of friendlies until the week before. So I went over with 20 quid which you had to put in your passport [to prove you could sustain yourself] in 1979, and I was sleeping rough.
The club were finding it tricky to arrange the second game of the trip. I was going to the hotel in Magaluf asking where the second game was and Paul Fletcher [the striker] and Peter Noble [the forward] saw me with my claret-and-blue-coloured suitcase – which I procured when working on the bins – and, flippantly, they said: “If you turn up you’ll probably get a game.”
This turned out to be prophetic. All the teams had left for the mainland because it was the end of the season so the opponents were a Magaluf Waiters XI. Anyway, my week’s holiday was up so I did a scam where I said I’d lost my passport in a drunken state and had to go to the consular to extend my stay as the game still hadn’t been played. I did this and, eventually, they played the game on the aerodrome where I’d been sleeping before I found a burnt-out hotel to sleep in instead.
The goals were just posts – no nets – and I was the only Burnley fan watching. There was about another 50 people – club dignitaries and personnel – and Harry Potts was the manager. I was on the sideline with no top on, just my silk Burnley scarf in the heat, and 20 minutes from time Leighton James came over and said: “Come on, you’re on.” I said: “Don’t be daft.” He said: “No, the gaffer said.” And they called me on and I played as a centre-forward.
We won 7-2 and I scored two: the second a header from a Frank Casper cross. My first tackle had actually split my golf spats, which were painted claret and blue. I had no other shoes because I was on a budget so Steve Kindon [a centre-forward] loaned me his size 14s and he let me keep them. I was 26 then, played Sunday football so was quite fit, but I never got picked again.
The places I’ve been to following Burnley include Singapore, America twice, Norway, Spain – of course – three times, Austria three times, Italy three times, etc – some of which are featured in my books, Got to be There! and Still There!
Saturday will just be the latest of many friendlies for me.