Sunday, 4 April 2010

Burnley refuse to throw in the white towel after sickening 6-1 defeat

A thumbing swing from Adebayor, a neat hook inside the post by Bellamy, and a jab from Tevez. Ding-ding-ding. With little over 6 minutes on the clock, or the equivalent of two rounds of boxing, Manchester City managed to pulverize Burnley, in what was more like a towering heavy weight vs a whimpering feather weight than a Premier League match.

After watching Wolves so bravely defend a relentless Arsenal attack, only to succumb to a Nicolas Bendtner 94th minute winner, I thought yeah, why not watch Burnley vs Manchester City, in the faint hope that Burnley could do Liverpool a favour by knicking a point against City in the rush for fourth place.

Burnley's form, or rather demise since Owen Coyle jumped ship, has been painfully evident, but with the sobering prospect of relegation as incentive and the atmosphere that Turf Moor can create, I harboured overly optimisitc hopes of a boring 0-0.

Happily convinced that a draw was on the cards,  I promptyly boycotted the first 7 minutes, thinking I could nip in the shower and would only miss a few tedious exchanges. In the past Ive missed the odd goal here and there, due to tea brewing or self beutification, but never, never have I misssed 3 goals in the space of 6 minutes.

The only possible explanation I can come up with, besides an already crippled confidence, is that Brain Laws completely neglected to issue his instructions to the defense, like an OAP who forgot to pop Saturdays pill dosage, thus rendering themselves dormant and incapable of lifting a finger. Put mildly, the defense was simply non existent, this was true school boy stuff, which I thought had been eradicated from the Premier League by the time we left the last millennium.

Normally, I am up for a good old whooping -providing your not the one on the receiving end, I'm fair game. Their is little more satistfying things in life than suffering and humilliation. But, in this instance, with the ease of which Manchester City were cavring through an AWOL Burnley defencse, I feared for humanity. I cringed with mercy, wishing that the trainer would throw in the towel when the fourth went in after 20 minutes, or that the doctor would stop the contest for fear of Burnley's mortality. It was a sickening demolition of a team, that had once upon a time, at the start of the season, managed to humble Man United.

But this is the Premier League, unrelenting and unforgiving. Early season conquests matter little at this stage of the season. Grinding out ugly results and sustaining precious moral is key, and Burnley couldn't have picked a worse time to suffer a confidence shattering home defeat of this magnitude. Pompey are all but resigned to the Championship next season, and after this bloodied-nose performance, Burnley get my tip to be joining them very shortly.

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