Our Town – Champions

My great great grandad was invited for a trial at Burnley F.C. in the pre war years, when the football league was in its infancy, Britains Empire at its peak and likewise the regions textile industry. A decade or so later he alongside many other Lancashire lads would be shipped off to the continent, to fight for their country in an orgy of imperialistic bloodshed. He was hit by a snipers bullet from a German gun when the East Lancs went on the front foot in the late spring of 1918.

Only a couple of years after the end of WW2 and with the country still under rationing, my Grandad skived school to watch his heroes prepare for the first ever televised FA Cup final in 1947. An eagle eyed teacher spotted him on the front of the local paper. He got the cane and the Clarets got licked. Charlton 1 Burnley 0. He was still reciting the line up well into his final years. Strong, Woodruff, Mather. Attwell, Brown and Bray. Chew, Morris, Harrison.. Potts and F.P. Kippax.

My Dad has seen the best and the worst. Born just a couple of years after the club won its last first division title, he was on the Bee Hole End that fateful day against Orient. He enjoyed the greats of the 70’s, Coates, Dobson and James, but also witnessed a club on the brink of oblivion in the late 80’s. Travelling the length and breadth of England to watch the club at its lowest ebb, he’s witnessed defeats from Halifax to Hartlepool, and seen famous victories from Scunthorpe to Stockport.

I’ve also seen a mixed bag. More good than bad admittedly. Relegations, promotions, pitch invasions, Wembley… Europe. I first got carried over the turnstiles at two weeks old, and have followed home and away ever since. Although barely present this year, watching from afar has hardly diminished an incredible season. Monday’s game and last nights parade will live long in the memory. We definitely gave Naples a good run for its money.

To see fans young and old enjoy the celebrations was a timely reminder of how important football is to our town. The older generation were soaking it all in, the youth sang the songs of old loud and proud, and the toddlers and new borns were decked out in our beloved Claret. Our town is far from perfect, but where is? We’ve had our share of problems, but the one constant has been Burnley F.C. Through the good times and the bad, the Turf and its ever changing cast has provided a sense of hope and belonging for the people of this once thriving milltown. For many football is just a game, but in this rain sodden town nestled atop the Pennine Moors it means so much more. It is family, friendship, love and life. What we have is unique and I wouldn’t swap it for all the trophies in the world.