We’ve seen how dangerous the opening minutes after the break can be, for better or worse. At Swansea, we conceded twice and lost a game we’d been controlling, while at Millwall we had chances to kill the contest but couldn’t take them. Against Burnley, we came out with exactly the attitude we needed, and for me what followed was prime Lincoln City. We were physical, aggressive and intelligent, but we also moved the ball beautifully, and there wasn’t a player out there who looked remotely out of his depth at Championship level.
House headed over, and Ladefoged nearly lifted an effort beyond Grégoire Coudert, before the Danish striker found himself in the right place when Jefferies’ scuffed shot dropped into his path. He finished to make it 2-1, and I wondered whether we might now concentrate on protecting the lead. Instead, we went after Burnley with even greater conviction. We were getting into good positions, delivering dangerous crosses, picking up second balls and winning possession back so quickly that the visitors barely had a chance to settle. We ebbed and flowed like the seven seas, while Burnley were battered against the rocks. A nautical analogy for two towns no closer than 40 miles to the sea.
If it had been a boxing match, I think the referee would have stopped it during that spell after half-time. Burnley were taking blow after blow, and there was virtually nothing coming back. Ding, ding, ding, ring the bell, because the contest was disappearing from them before they could do anything about it. House forced a save, Yunus Konak had a shot deflected wide, and we looked capable of scoring every time we got into their half. Some of the football was technically excellent, too. Let’s not kid ourselves into claiming we were just back to front, with the wind against us we dropped the ball on the deck more, and players like Coubiș revelled in it. I’m pretty sure our big Romanian could control a greased pig, as balls skipped off the surface time and again, only for him to bring them down and set off on his way.
Jefferies epitomised it as well, and one of my favourite moments of his performance didn’t even result in a chance. In the first half, he chased a ball that looked certain to go out for a Burnley throw, somehow backheeled it against the defender and won possession back for us. He did those things throughout the afternoon, chasing, tackling and working relentlessly, yet there was a genuine attacking quality to his performance that sometimes gets overlooked.
His goal was a wonderful example. A corner was cleared out towards him, and he struck the loose ball beautifully to make it 3-1, a finish that looked absolutely sumptuous from where I was sitting. I’ve deliberately not watched the highlights back before writing this, because I wanted the immediate feeling of the match to come through. Perhaps I’ll see it again and decide it wasn’t quite as wonderful as it looked live, but my immediate reaction was that Jefferies had produced the same technical quality we spend so much time praising in Championship opponents. I gave him my man of the match, although I could have made a case for several others.
House would have been an entirely reasonable choice. He scored, created Ladefoged’s second and worked tirelessly, but I’d argue his quality with the ball gets lost because we’re so accustomed to discussing what he does without it. He’s much more than somebody who runs, presses and makes life uncomfortable for defenders, and the deep cross he delivered for our fourth goal proved it. Ladefoged attacked it superbly and headed home, giving him two goals on his first league start and three in total since arriving.
I was delighted for Ladefoged, particularly after a quiet first half, because his opportunity had come with Freddie Draper suspended. Draper has been excellent and hasn’t done anything wrong, but suddenly there is genuine competition for that starting position. They offer different threats, precisely the problem Chris and Tom will welcome. We’ve invested serious money in Ladefoged, and the second goal showed the penalty-area presence that made him such an appealing signing in the first place.
Behind them, I thought Coubiș was a monster. He looked like an international player who has been playing Championship football for years, not somebody still settling into a new club and league. His long throw created the equaliser, but he was also authoritative defensively and comfortable bringing the ball forward from right-back. Somehow, Deji Elerewe might have been even better, and I genuinely struggle to find enough superlatives for the way he played.
There was a moment when Elerewe charged down the flank like a prime Gareth Ainsworth, beating Burnley players for pace and desire, before putting a wonderful cross into the area for Ladefoged. The header went wide, but it was an astonishing passage of play from a central defender, especially one who’d just endured the frustration of a red card at Millwall before winning his appeal. Those two were examples of young players we’ve trusted and invested in, looking entirely at home against an expensive Championship squad. It’s satisfying because this is exactly how Lincoln City hope to build and improve.
At 4-1, I thought we handled the match welll, although we still created opportunities and might have scored a fifth when Rob Street’s header was tipped against the bar, and Elerewe lifted the rebound over. After conceding six against West Ham and three at Sheffield United, there were certainly a few goals to claw back, and Burnley were fortunate that we didn’t add another. They hit the post themselves, but I never felt the result was in danger.
The penalty save gave George Wickens his moment as well, which seemed a rather fitting addition to an afternoon when almost everybody had something to celebrate. We champion goalscorers, but if a keeper makes a save (altogether now) it’s his job. Granted, it is, but when he saves a penalty, I think that is as good as scoring a goal. Marcus Edwards stepped up, telegraphed his intentions a little, and Wickens dived to his right to make the stop. Adam Reach then cleared another effort off the line, just to make sure there was no late consolation.
What interested me about the penalty was the noise behind Edwards, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite that situation at Sincil Bank. Usually, when visiting teams attack towards their own supporters, the crowd almost seems to suck the ball into the net. This time, Burnley were kicking towards fans who were waving banners and chanting angrily about their own club, and I couldn’t help wondering whether it did more harm than good. Edwards had a chance to give them something to cheer, but the atmosphere was about as hostile as it could have been.
I feel for Burnley fans, because watching your club struggle is miserable; we’ve been there (note for anyone under the age of 10: we have, it hasn’t always been like this). However, the chants of ‘you’re not fit to wear the shirt’ heard when the injured Broja went off carried on sporadically throughout. Later there were protests against Alan Pace and chants suggesting Nicky Hayen would be sacked in the morning, and the whole afternoon felt like a club turning on itself. I confess, in the second half, I genuinely felt the Burnley players just didn’t want it.
Hayen paid the price; his name was above the door, but you can’t tell me you’d rather see the likes of Hountondji, Pires, Sonne or Julio in the Imps side over Hackett, Jefferies, House or McGrandles. Our lads might have mostly come up from League One, but compared to Burnley’s side, we have Premier League attitude, application and desire. Here’s the defining point: I had to Google their XI to pick up three of those four names, and I watched them play this afternoon. That’s how anonymous some of the Burnley players were.
At full-time, the contrast was stark. To my right, Burnley players trudged towards their supporters, who continued to barrack them, and there was something sad about seeing a club so low on confidence, fans so disenchanted by their team, but still willing to travel the best part of three hours in the rain and wind to be disappointed. Successive relegations can happen when the downward momentum takes hold, as Luton have demonstrated, and Burnley face a serious job to avoid finding themselves in that sort of predicament. The scene at the other end was strikingly different.
To my left (ish), our supporters were celebrating our first home league victory at this level since 1961, with rain lashing down, dark skies overhead and a wind that made October feel like November. I loved that contrast, the anger at one end and this wonderful pocket of joy maybe fifty feet away. We’d been wondering when the first home win would arrive after opportunities against Swansea, Blackburn and Southampton, and I joked about it in the press room afterwards, saying how our win made sure the lack of home success didn’t become a thing. One Burnley journalist laughed and said they hadn’t won at home for nearly a year, which rather put our little concern into perspective.
Nothing has been decided after 12 games, of course. We’re seven points clear of the relegation zone, and if that remains the gap after 46 matches, I’ll be delighted. I’ll always worry about the Imps; I’ll always fear the worst because, at heart, I’m a miserable bastard. That said, I understand why people in football are looking at us and seeing a team with enough about it to compete at this level. To take a phrase from Breaking Bad, who is it I think I’m looking at? Maybe, as the season goes on, we’ll be the one who knocks. Or maybe Burnley were just really, really bad. Either way, what a great afternoon, and a great narrative.
Think about what we’ve just witnessed: dreadful conditions, an opponent with far greater resources, an early deficit and a test of our confidence, followed by a response full of character and technical quality. Our club-record signing scored twice, Jefferies and House were excellent, and young players such as Elerewe and Coubiș looked completely comfortable. Nine years after we needed an FA Cup miracle to beat Burnley, we’ve beaten them as league equals, and in some ways that’s the bigger story of Lincoln City.
Once upon a time, beating Burnley was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Now, it’s just Saturday
Up the Imps.
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