Special win at old foes Bolton
BLUE-EYED BOY’S BLACKBURN VIEW
AS I made my leisurely way from my Horwich-side parking spot to the Macron on Saturday I reflected, as I always do on the occasion of a Bolton away game, on my very first experience of watching Rovers away 51 years ago.
The venue has changed of course, but I guess in that half century and a bit we have met the Wanderers more than any of our other local rivals. We’ve gone entire decades without playing Blackpool, Preston, Burnley and other Lancashire sides big and small but the Trotters always seem to have been there or thereabouts as we both yo-yo’d up and down divisions.
Barrie Ferguson famously reckoned nothing to it as a derby game when his career was still flourishing sufficiently for his opinion to matter to anyone and you’ll always find younger Rovers fans decrying its merits, usually in a 50-odd tweet thread or a 19-page forum topic rather disproving the original theorems that “it matters more to them than us,” or “they’re obsessed with us.”
The truth is some way in between as usual.
A poll run by Bolton’s daily paper last week found that 35%, by far the biggest single sample, of those responding gated stand that night and unsavoury dregs at home, regarded Rovers at home the wondrous strangeness I’d witnessed a straggle of as the most serious derby of it all as Bryan Douglas, deeply unpleasant youths as against Wigan, Bury, my dad’s hero, later work verbally abusing bemused Man Utd or others. That of colleague and now old ladies and kids pushing course means that 65% friend, notched the only shopping trolleys across don’t but I’m personally goal, was my Road to the store car park. They pleased that a healthy segDamascus moment. Evekept a safe distance and ment feel that passionrything about it was new shut up sharpish when a ately about what I personand startling: Rovers in guy built like a retired ally feel to be a proper red, a look I’d only seen in prop forward emerged traditional Lancashire black and white newspafrom the shop. battle between two per pictures, being among The match itself went founder Football League people shouting vociferpretty much how John members traditionally ously for the opposition, had hoped it wouldn’t. “If separated only by an the feeling of snatching we get ahead we’ll try and expanse of wild moorsomething on enemy tershut the shop up immediland. ritory. ately,” he told me, “If you
I can recall the thrill of After being dragged to do, that’s it, game set and that night in April 1967, many a match reluctantly match.” setting off in dad’s green I was converted, a ‘lifer’ Whenever a Rovers side and cream Consul and and while the emotions wins one-nil away it traversing those moors approaching the smart always seems like a tactifrom Feniscowles. I can newish stadium aren’t as cal and defensive triumph remember exactly where boyish, Bolton away still in the manner established we parked on the other matters and means a great by Howard Kendall of this side of the dual carriagedeal a lot to me. parish 1979-81, bless his way which now runs past Where once I might soul. But I’m not that conthe ghost of Burnden, have gone for a pint or two vinced it was any plan
There were 21,000 on I joined my Bolton-supning mastery on Mowfor a rather meaningless porting pal John in the bray’s part that we held end-of-season affair (Rovsedate surroundings of out after producing the ers had lost an all or nothTesco’s café pre-match. game’s one reasonably ing six-pointer against John and I met a decade fluent and incisive attackCoventry at Ewood the ago travelling to a Springsing move. Saurday previous), a teen concert in London If a striker recruited rather better turn-out together and football selrecently from non-league than we got last weekend dom figures much in our hadn’t strayed a foot offbut the memories are conversation. side (and been spotted by vivid. He’d kindly offered me a very alert linesman) the
The smells and sounds his neighbour’s season second half plan, whatof men smoking on the ticket sat with their lot, ever it was, was scupway, muttering their something of a relief after pered. If Mowbray has thoughts about the game, witnessing some reprethat amount of attention the tight feeling of anticihensible goings-on to detail we’re onto a winpation and slightner.fearinamongvisitingsections my eight-year-old tummy here down the years. No, it looked to me like going into enemy territory Even before this match, a decent side having a bit (although football hoolifor which an eye-watering of an off day beating a less ganism was in its infacy). £30 ticket price perhaps gifted side having a stinker
We went in an unsegre- kept some of our more in terms of attacking craft. We’ll play better than that and lose.
But who cares? The three points, which I predicted we’d collect in this column last week, made it, as I also wrote, a distinguished first quarter of the campaign. Tenth and a point away from a top six spot reflects great credit on Tony and the team.
Tough tests lie ahead but we can forget about them for a fortnight and reflect on two months of solid consolidation in the Championship.
Making my way home through Horwich and Adlington (and saving myself three quarters of an hour stuck on the car park) I was as happy as that eight-year-old holding his dad’s hand walking back to the car way past his school night bedtime in the 1967 Bolton night. If only I could stay up that late these days!
We’ve had many ups and downs at Ewood, Burnden and Macron since and I look forward to the return fixture and hope Wanderers can overcome their recurrent financial woes, particularly if we both stay in the Championship. As far as I’m concerned it’s one of the original derby matches. Maybe you had to be at the big ones in the 1970’s with 30-odd thousand on to appreciate it.
Me and my great Bruce bud John might splash out and stretch to a Burger King next season!