Burnley had been in the old fourth division for seven painful years; mocked and scorned at places like Rochdale and Hartlepool, home gates dwindled to fewer than 2,000, but the hard core of faithfuls stuck by them through thick and thin. Its a badge of honour to say today that you were one of them, but for various reasons I wasnt and I missed out on all the adversity and pain. I missed out too on the night at York on April 28 when Burnley won and were assured of promotion. For unbridled emotion and elation it was one of the great nights in Burnley history - seven years in the dumps was over. Frank Casper had assembled the team, Jimmy Mullen got them over the line and Roger Eli was the cult hero of the season with his goals and haircuts. You could argue that where Burnley are now, currently in the Premier League had its origin in that tumultuous night at York. The tears flowed, the champagne corks popped; people danced and hugged strangers. Football does that. Years later when I actually got to Bootham Crescent, it was like a pilgrimage.
