Will Lancaster is a freelance writer and regular Record Sport contributor and is also a Burnley fan. He was at Blackpool on Saturday for the Clarets' trip to Bloomfield Road and was outside 'The Manchester Pub' just hours before tragedy struck when Seasiders fan Tony Johnson was injured in a mass brawl and later died. Here is Will’s take on a black day for football.
What promised to be one of the days of my year has quickly turned into a tragic note. I'm a leap year-born kid and with my team Burnley playing away at Lancashire rivals Blackpool on one of the two birthday weekends I was blessed with being able to choose as a result of there being no February 29 this year, it promised to be a great one. Anticipation was building up nicely - train strikes promised to ruin the mood slightly, but the trusty old National Express saved the day, and at half 10 in the morning, me and three mates took to the seaside from Manchester with the hope of bringing back three points.
Prior to the game, everyone was in good spirits - our first 'away' pub of choice was a mere 30-second walk from the coach, The Castle. A DJ, two games of football on the big screens for the early kick-offs, fans chanting about Burnley being top of the league and mingling with familiar faces from back home about what might pan out as we prepared to take on a relegation-threatened side, having won 16 of our last 20 league games, the scene was set for a great day. We even rubbed shoulders with Jay Rodriguez's father and brother, singing along to his chant that rips to the tune of 'Do Wah Diddy Diddy' by Manfred Mann.
It had all the hallmarks of a great away day - a team miles clear at the top of the table heading to their seaside neighbours who had won just once since the end of October. There's always something giddy about going to a team that plays on the coast. It's like a family day out, but instead of heading to the beach to play on the arcades and ride the donkeys, you're heading to the football with 3700 of your Claret chums as we count down to a return to the English Premier League.
But it wasn't just Burnley fans we were mingling with. As kick-off drew closer, we met others in a pub closer to the stadium - some Burnley, some Blackpool. Again, nothing hostile. Of course there was the odd "How many are we going to put past you today?" from us, and a "Can we just forfeit so it remains 3-0?" from the boys in tangerine. But all light-hearted and met with handshakes.
Having tried to get into the ill-fated Manchester Pub before meeting at the second pub - it was packed to the brim and despite only being at the front of the queue - we could still gain a glimpse past the doors to see that it was exactly the same as The Castle; bustling, awful 80's tunes at times, but a real party atmosphere amongst the travelling contingent. Nothing seemed off.
With Preston being Blackpool's main rivals and Blackburn the fiercest foes in my neck of the woods, there isn't really a Lancashire derby as such between Burnley and Blackpool. But there is enough at stake to want to have the bragging rights to take back down the M55 and beyond. No-one took them in the end. For all of our confidence and admittedly smug mentality before the game, it produced one of the most boring 0-0 draws you are likely to see in a while. It was a point that most were annoyed with at the time, but with a 13-point gap to second placed Sheffield United in the hunt for Premier League promotion, it didn't matter too much. Sadly, a no-score bore wouldn't all that would be written about. It was a great result for Blackpool in their quest to stay up, truth be told, and one that Burnley fans weren't too bothered with on reflection so a few beers back in the town centre called after the final whistle.
We ended up walking past the Manchester Pub on the way back, but again it looked full of the same crowd, bustling with 80's tunes, so we opted for the town centre instead. Given the tragedy that would take place around those premises later, it was a decision I will always be relieved we made. Instead, we headed to a largely Blackpool-dominated pub where we pre-booked a taxi and spent the next few hours playing pool and chatting to random members of the public - not one person seemed hostile or unwelcoming.
It was only on the way home that I received a text from a Blackpool-supporting friend - word had spread that there had been an incident in town. Usually these stories of scuffles between rival fans only end up in tales of minor injuries and you never, ever begin to think of the worst case scenario. As we exchanged texts, I watched seven or eight police cars whizz past in the opposite direction, sirens blaring. It was then I knew this wasn't just an ordinary scuffle. I'd arranged to meet some friends in Manchester for a few drinks and a night out, but constant updates were flying in on my phone, and by the time it was midnight, police reports had stated that a man was in 'critical condition'.
It put a huge dampener on the evening. It seemed so inconceivable that something like this could happen - having just five hours before, been in The Castle singing Burnley chants with not one hint of suspicion of what was to come. I'd been to Millwall to watch Burnley just two weeks prior on a Tuesday night, and was fired constant reminders to 'be careful' with Green Street gimmicks thrown at me.
The Den, of course, had a reputation at the height of football hooliganism in the 1980s as one of the most intimidating places for opposition fans. Millwall away is the kind of venue that is associated with trouble. As it turned out, south London was fine. Millwall fans were complimentary of us and there was good craic between the two sets of fans. But Blackpool away? It's the stag and hen capital of Britain with kiss me quick hats and all that goes with it. And just when you thought that 'intimidating' era of football hooligans had just about gone, with even the stereotypically-rambunctious Millwall hardly living up to their former reputation of welcoming you to the capital in the ways you hear about in TV dramas, tragedy struck a lot closer to home than you can imagine.
It was only this morning that, despite reports of Tony Johnson's worsening condition, the public were finally delivered the bad news that he had passed away. It just felt numbing to see. It was hard to believe I was writing the story confirming his death and the clubs paying tribute to him having sat in that taxi 48 hours earlier watching the police cars race to the scene. The poignant nature of the black and white badge in the Blackpool club statement - after you'd started to prepare for the worst, it still felt like a ton of bricks had landed on you.
Of course, you don't want the perpetrator to be associated to your club. Any idea or reminder that Burnley will now be associated with this horrible, tragic event on what was a merry day out just hours before is so, so hard to comprehend. Not one person was in bad spirits before or even, to my knowledge, after the game. Burnley remained top of the league, it was a Saturday and people had been drinking responsibly for hours. It should have led to laughter. Not tragedy.
That brings me back to the Green Street gimmicks. Of course, people mean them in a jocular way, but the influence that those films have - Football Factory being another - can't really be understated. Sure, I've used a joke about both films in my time, including Danny Dyer's famous 'What else are you going to do on a Saturday?' line, but never in a million years would you consider going out to genuinely cause and inflict pain upon a rival fan. But for some reason, it happens all too often at grounds around the country, and for all the details we don't know yet, it's resulting in the loss of a life.
That is all it can take. For Tony's loved ones and close friends, I cannot imagine how they are feeling. Nobody deserves to go to the football on a Saturday and not come home for any reason.
Rest in peace Tony.
