The Longside Reference

HISTORY WITH MR. T.

OUR PALS FROM ACROSS THE PENNINES

     It was whilst sitting through the Leeds game at The Turf during 2004/2005, dieing of boredom, wearily waiting for Leeds to score, wondering if we would actually have a shot, ever obtain another couple of players, watching the pigeons, pondering on why Valois wasn’t on at the start of a home game, (I understand he ain’t too clever in away games), thinking about why referees book some and not others and would Mrs T ever allow me to have another pie and peas (with it being a 12.30 kick-off we had one for lunch), I began to remember some of the other Leeds games we have had at the Turf – especially those in the 60s.
    
     Poor old Sinclair, yellow carded for what seemed to be a perfectly good firm header in the first half, and then yellow carded (and redded) for his bit of minor retaliation in the second half – neither of these transgressions would have raised an eyebrow in the 60s let alone a referee’s whistle – must be bewildered at being the Championship’s most yellow carded player. Whilst some players can clock up 20 fouls and more in a game without a booking, poor old Frank only has to glare at an opposition player and out comes the worst in any referee. Duff is another one who hasn’t committed one bit of nastiness all season yet he too clocks up cards like my wife gathers VISA bills.

     But anyway, bored rigid yet again for the first 80 minutes, annoyed that I didn’t have a second pie and peas when she who knows everything wasn’t looking, and thinking if I didn’t have a season ticket, would I bother coming all the way from Leeds to watch a team who don’t look as if they have a league goal in them in between now and Christmas, I began to remember the Burnley – Leeds game of 65/66. A lot of Burnley-Leeds games have been nasty affairs over the years, but this one, labelled ‘The Battle of Turf Moor’ was certainly one of the juiciest.

     ‘Battle’ was an appropriate title seeing as the game marked the visit to Turf Moor of Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery, our legendary WW2 leader who smote the Germans many a blow during the run up to the end of the war. Of course he was a hero of Bob Lord’s and the two had met at the Cup Final of 62 when Monty had been a guest and had allegedly commanded Burnley to win and ordered Ray Pointer to score. Ever since then Lord and Montgomery seemed to have some sort of mutual admiration society going. But Burnley didn’t win and Pointer didn’t score so it’s clear the man who preferred a beret to a tin hat had more influence over his troops than footballers. Lord and Monty then met again in 65/66 at Bournemouth and Monty had asked Lord how did little Burnley manage to be so successful and compete with all the big city clubs? Come and see, said Lord, try a pie, and the Field Marshal duly did. Once in Burnley, Monty several times stopped his car to chat with people in the street, visited Gawthorpe, lunched at the Town Hall with Bob and Hilda, and was then escorted to Turf Moor to watch the 11 blokes in white kicking lumps out of 11 blokes in claret.

     What he saw, the ‘Battle of Turf Moor’ – was a game so nasty, so ugly, so physical, so rough, and so full of unnecessary fouls and personal clashes and vendettas that the referee eventually called all 22 players together in the middle of the field at one point to tell them to calm down and play a bit more football. Leeds’ only concern was to stop Burnley scoring and this they did by any means available, plus a few more that nobody had ever thought of before. It was the usual suspects – Giles, Bremner, Reaney, Hunter plus a lad called Storrie who knew how to dish it out but is seldom remembered. Big Jack Charlton was in the centre of their defence but in truth big Jack though hard and physical was also fair and Burnley players will often say he wasn’t like the other assassins in this Leeds circus of horrors. Bobby Collins, the worst of all was out of action, but had he been playing in this game God forbid what might have happened because he was worse than all the rest put together. It was an occasion described as spoiling, vicious, bitter, and a disgraceful exhibition masquerading under the name of soccer, and that was just the warm-up. The game was worse.

     It was settled by one bizarre fluke goal. Retrieving the ball somewhere near the corner flag, and being harassed by Storrie, full back Alex Elder then whacked it high across the penalty area. He had the choice of anywhere in the ground, out for a corner, over the line for a throw, or up the field for someone to chase. But somehow the ball sailed over Blacklaw who was waiting for option number four, a back pass, and went into the net via the far post. If he’d practised for a year, Elder would probably never have managed to do this again. With this one goal under their belt Leeds then doubled their efforts to kick Burnley about and hang on till the final whistle.
    
     After the game Burnley players and manager Potts were furious at the treatment they had received. Potts was asked how many injuries there were. Still counting, was his reply, adding that nobody had expected Leeds to sink as low as they had done, and that there were things going on out on the pitch that he was not prepared to talk about. He had told them the night before what to expect from Leeds but nothing like this. Along with a game at Tottenham in the Cup in ’63, and a game at Newcastle when Gordon Harris was black and blue from head to foot, the Leeds display was the most appalling he had ever seen. It left seven players under treatment for injuries.

     In an after match row Potts challenged Revie to a TV debate.    “Ha,” humphed Revie, “Burnley should put their own house in order, “I can’t think of anything more useless,” added Revie and said he wouldn’t be a part of dragging the game down further. He accused Potts of “howling and moaning” about both his players and fans. The bitterness spilled into the boardroom though nothing has been revealed about anything that might have been said in there; although Lord did say publicly that he would not have been unsympathetic if the referee had ended the game early. In this ‘match of shame’ as it was also labelled there were 5 bookings (In today’s gentle climate it would have been doubled with at least two sendings off), objects were hurled onto the pitch, and spectators were ejected from the ground. “We can’t be blamed,” said Potts, “why is it always against Leeds that this happens?”

     The Daily Mirror summed it up: Everybody has blamed somebody else for the roughhouse. The referee blamed the players, officials blamed the referee and the other team’s players. The players apparently blamed no one because they left the pitch shaking hands and hugging each other as if it had been a frolic thoroughly enjoyed by all. Nobody accepted blame. That leaves ME to apportion blame. I blame everyone, players, referee and club officials.      
     The Daily Express said: I can only assume Monty did not stay behind to present battle honours because even a great war leader could not stomach such disregard for rules. We’ve all heard the old excuses that football is a man’s game, it has to be played hard and I heartily endorse them. I don’t believe professional footballers deliberately set out to main each other but the truth here was that five or six legs might easily have been broken by some of the most dangerously vicious lunges I have ever seen. Without trying to paint Burnley white or disregard the final fouls tally I must sadly place the blame at the feet of three Leeds players – Hunter, Bremner and Storrie. They were the principle offenders.
 
The Sun can sum it up: Elder’s goal was the craziest you’ll ever see. He said afterwards that he was trying to find John Angus on the other side but the wind got the ball and blew it in. Poor Alex, in the midst of all that kicking, hacking, punching and pushing he at least tried to rise above it. And defeat was his only reward. As a game, the sooner it’s forgotten, the better.

     Well, there you are then, Burnley and Leeds, Pennine rivals, old enemies, games between them part of a tradition of thuggery and sendings off and into the 70s it carried on when Hankin and Gordon McQueen were sent off during one niggly game. Then there was the game at the Turf when Revie afterwards stood on the pitchside and told the Burnley boys as they came off to just wait till they got back to Elland Road and we’ll break your f***ing legs. Didn’t break any legs but Hunter’s late and vicious tackle did manage to more or less end Frank Casper’s career. Good old Norm’ still at it well into the 70s. You know the old joke – Norman came home with a broken leg one day, but he didn’t know whose it was.

     So, Saturday February 5th, 2005. Burnley 0 Leeds 1: Where have I seen this scoreline before I thought? “This is worse than watching paint dry,” said one bloke bored stiff sitting behind, not something he would have said at ‘The Battle of Turf Moor’ that’s for sure.

     And Tuesday November 28th: I’ve written this before I know the scoreline. I want to win, so badly, but they tell me Blake is back on form. Another 1 – 0 to Leeds, currently just above the bottom three, but just beaten Plymouth away, no mean feat. Some scorelines just seem to repeat themselves. Please not on Tuesday.

Dave Thomas 2006