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2: Burnett v Bournemouth
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19 April 1998 – Wayne Burnett, v Bournemouth
Wonderful day, wonderful finish, wonderful ending
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A goal scored along the ground takes a two-dimensional path. A volleyed goal, because the ball is moving vertically as well as horizontally, calls for greater technique and spatial intelligence. And as one who considers it a grand personal triumph to stand up to get a round of drinks without knocking the remains of the last one halfway across the pub, it seems to me a thing of extraordinary gymnastic prowess for a player to strike a falling ball at a point that is perfect not only across the x and y axes of the flat pitch, but at just the right height as well.
Even by these standards, Wayne Burnett's winner against Bournemouth was extraordinary – because it was perfect in time as well as 3-D space. It was a four-dimensional goal.
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Its timing was immaculate firstly because of Burnett's run. For months afterwards I would see it again every time I shut my eyes. The corner launching from our side of the ground, and Burnett gliding on to the six-yard line; the ball and the player, on their two trajectories through space and and time, converging flawlessly, like a probe meeting a comet on the edge of space; Burnett, bending his left leg to guide the ball gently beyond Jimmy Glass, without breaking his stride, carried onward by the golden goal rush of instant victory, hurdling rows of advertising boards behind the goal, finding the fans at last, saluting, still not stopping, following the curve of the stand, and finally coming to rest and collective celebration. If Daryl Clare hadn't caught him, he'd still be running today.
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Then there is the goal's timing within the context of the match. We'd started by viewing the final as little more than a pleasant day out – as that promotion chase culminated, the trophy seemed just a nice little bauble – but as John Bailey tapped into Town's empty net and the sour scent of defeat followed the long trip to Wembley, the match came to matter much more. Alan Buckley's adventurous double substitution ten minutes after half time had paid off with Kingsley Black's (albeit slightly lucky) equaliser, but the fear was rising again as penalties loomed. Burnett's golden flick came at the ideal moment in terms of drama, and many fans surprised themselves with the exuberance of their celebrations as 30,000 cases of nervous hypertension were suddenly resolved.
But perhaps Burnett's 4-D decider derives the most part of its greatness from its significance in the wider upturn of Town's fortunes. As his foot had met the ball with one-in-a-million precision, so the track of Buckley's career had coincided again with the life of our football club at the perfect moment. Lightning could strike twice. Promotion was round the corner. We slipped away smiling as the spring rain eased off, soft sunshine broke through, and even Katrina and the Waves sounded sweet over Wembley's old clapped-out tannoy. It was one of those rare moments supporting the Mariners when anything seems possible.
Pete Green
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