Mention Barnsley and up pops the Grimethorpe Colliery Band, though there isn’t a colliery any more, Michael Parkinson, Dickie Bird, Geoff Boycott from not that far away, Danny Blanchflower who learned his trade here, Darren Gough the well known dancer, Charlie Williams and Arthur Scargill… Barnsley’s best ever striker… and who will ever forget Skinner Normanton, immortalised in Parkinson’s prose. Skinner would have had the likes of Robbie Savage and Chopper Harris as a light snack. Barnsley footballers were ‘ard, really ‘ard. One of their players used to practise his heading by using his head to open the main swing doors. Then one day they reversed the hinges and nobody told him. Oh dear. Another player fell over the perimeter wall during a game and broke his arms, legs, collar bones and several ribs. Without batting an eyelid he got up and carried on. Beat that Ronaldo.
Then there were the Arctic Monkeys, Joanne Harris (who wrote Chocolat’) and Joseph Bramah. Joseph who, I hear you ask. Bramah is indeed a name you need to know. He invented the flushing toilet and the beer pump. The beer pump is an essential part of Barnsley life; the town centre has one of the highest densities of pubs per square mile in the UK. Therefore so is the flushing toilet.
This is my first trip to Barnsley the metropolis. Up until now it has simply been a name on a signpost as I whiz up and down the M1 to more exotic destinations. Although, there are folks in the town who would dearly love to see the place re-branded as a sort of Tuscan hill village (no I’m not joking), so that people like me instead of driving straight by, might be tempted to pop in for a pizza in the piazza.
Barnsley was known as ‘Berneslai’ in the Domesday Book. It was nobbut a village of 200 people or so then. 900 years later it was voted the worst town in Britain in the Guinness Survey. And you thought Burnley was bad; hence the need for Barnsley to re-invent itself as the new Tuscany of the north.
Barnsley FC had one tilt in the prem in the 90s. A long slide down followed, and then the slow claw back up to the Championship. Andy Ritchie was recently sacked for the bizarre reason that he didn’t spend any money. Very odd. They also had Peter Ridsdale as chairman for a while. Many say surviving that was their greatest achievement.
The Game: Frankly this was torture and one begins to wonder where the next goal will come from as this is a side now that looks bereft of belief and confidence. There has been just one win in nine games. The number of points won in this spell is relegation form. We have scored just two goals in five games and those two goals were basically gifts from Sunderland. This club is in dire need of a rescue act in the coming transfer window before the slide continues, the grumbles magnify and the knives begin to emerge. It badly needs McGreal and Sinclair back just as much as Andy Gray. It needs the best available midfield pairing of Hyde and O Connor. There were some very unhappy fans at Barnsley today leaving the ground.
Barnsley were small, lightweight and for all their quickness and nimbleness forced Jensen into nothing more just a couple of good saves, a couple of routine saves, rattled the crossbar once and scored the solitary goal. How is it possible that a team with what must be one of the smallest back lines in the division can win every header in their own six yard box making just about every corner we have quite useless, other than the one from which I’m told we hit a post. We have plenty of physically big players; presumably this is one reason why McCann is preferred to Hyde.
Steve Cotterill cites the absence of Gray as the main reason for the decline. It was surely a matter of time before that line emerged. But today at Barnsley it was more than just the absence of Gray. Only a handful of players emerged with any real distinction, O Connor and Noel-Williams. Jensen and Elliot too did nothing wrong. But what was missing, in addition to Gray was any measure of convincing passing football, any real capacity to be first to the ball, the capacity to dominate midfield, the ability to be sharp and crisp in the tackle in defence. And we have a number of players who, when turning, look slower than a double-decker bus; and that was the reason for the goal that was gifted to Barnsley.
Steve Cotterill stated that we dominated the second half which may be true, though I can’t remember in that period their goalkeeper being tested in any way, but Barnsley, when it mattered, in their own penalty area, blocked, tackled, intercepted, won the headers, threw themselves in the way of shots and dealt with everything… including handling one shot on the line. They got away with it. 2,995 Burnley fans stood up as one and screamed for the decision. The referee waved play on. The Barnsley lad after the game allegedly admitted to the offence. And so another game goes by to add to the 40 something since the last penalty. One begins to wonder what the record is. Can we expect, hope for, a rescue act, an injection of money; there are indeed rumours that one of the latest directors might just do something. And then if money is made available, just what players are there to be tempted to BFC? It’s all very well saying that there is money, but where are the available talented players? The stats in a recent programme say that Wade Elliot is top of the divisional list of players for getting crosses into the box. But just where is the goal poacher, the instinctive, sharp, turn on a sixpence scorer that we so badly need. In our dreams I suspect.
No I’m afraid, Barnsley showed up all our weaknesses, not just the missing of Andy Gray. There were boos at the end, and plenty of two fingered salutes as the players left the field in the corner nearest to us. But, though the 4 – 1 win at Norwich seems an age away, believe it or not we are still only three points away from the play offs.
In hindsight, after the disappointment and irritation has settled, a little reason and logic takes over. I can’t decide were we poor or unlucky. A mixture of both might be the answer. There were times when their goal seemed to lead a charmed life, it just wouldn’t go in would it… but then you think well if we were that bit sharper; that bit better in front of goal, it wouldn’t really matter and luck wouldn’t come into it. You make your own luck they say and it’s funny that the better you are the luckier you seem to be.
Twas the day after Christmas
and back at Turf Moor,
not a creature was stirring not even a mouse,
but God was I mis’rable back at our ‘ouse.
I’d just been to Barnsley and driven from Leeds
But a kick up the arse our team badly needs.
It was cold, it was damp, there was no Andy Gray
No Sinclair, McGreal, what more can you say?
I’m still trying to fathom this game that we lost
a game that Steve Cotterill says that we bossed.
The goal that we gave ‘em was another soft gift
and leaves me feeling just thoroughly miffed.
If we’d played till next Christmas, we’d never have scored.
A couple of million can t’ directors afford?
It’s so disappointing as slowly we slide
Back down the table we drift and we glide.
We ran and we chased and we huffed and we puffed
Of chances to win we had quite enough.
But take ‘em you’re joking we were always unable
And thus we slide downwards the championship table.
Dave Thomas Boxing Day 2006 (and it’s my birthday as well)
