The yokel voices echoed in my ears as I left Turf Moor that afternoon. A season of under achievement had somehow ended up with us in the Play-offs. Wembley and glory were only two games away and we had thrown it all away in one of the worst displays of the season. Mullen, always the master of the one off game, had lost the plot and misread the script. Plymouth played over half the game with ten men after one was sent-off in the first half.

The thousands of Plymouth fans that had made the long trip North were delirious as the game went on and the stalemate wasn't broken. Dodgy and dubious tactics and an inability to break down a tough, nine-man defending team, coupled with a non-stop bedlam of "We only have 10 men!" froze the Clarets. Ted McMinn, the Tin Man, left the field as a shadow, substituted, with rickety knees and bruises a plenty. The final whistle was a perverse relief, no more of that Southern drawling rubbish to listen to. But the players could have shut them up at anytime with the ball in the back of the net.

My Devonian father was wise enough not to mention the game when I got back to my parents' house in Colne. An ex-Hereford goalkeeper, he now follows football from the radio. My mother, who had stood on the terraces during the 50's and early 60's and had seen the best o' times, was also quiet. It's painful for her to see the club she supported as a girl floundering in the lower divisions.

The great debate was on. In three days time we were playing over 250 miles away in a game that would decide whether we would be going to the twin towers. I was posted abroad in 1988 when we made the last trip there and had missed that occasion. Keeping this in mind, I decided that the journey must be made. I know plenty of people who decided otherwise, and regretted it.

I was running the Burnley E-mail group then, in a much diminished format to the list now, and the gloom merchants were out in force. It looked like McMinn's career was over after the last game, Burnley themselves looked like they were just the lambs going down for the slaughter. One of my Claret mates was thinking of going, and another seat in the car taken sealed the decision.

Preston were also due down in the South West that night, playing Torquay, and they also were expected to roll over and submit. The motorways were fairly quiet. Not many Clarets or Preston fans looked as though they were prepared to either pay the expense for the trip, or take a day off work. A lot of people called us mad for heading off, I answered by saying, "But what if we win, what if we do it, and you're not there to see it?"

The guy I headed down with was in the Navy, and we were meeting up with a couple of other Navy Clarets who were currently in Plymouth. We were also picking up a Villa Fan with a soft spot for Burnley, who lived in Bristol. Once we met up in Plymouth the Navy guys were armed with the local rags which were gripped with Wembley fever. You'd have thought that the game had already been played. Every coach and minibus in the South West had been pre-booked for the bank holiday weekend. The players were going to get their Wembley suits fitted. What a star manager Shilts is, getting Plymouth to Wembley. It would have made you angry if it wasn't for the pervading sense of doom that seemed to be hanging around, like the Ancient Mariner's Albatross.

Home Park isn't a bad ground and we were on the open end behind the goal. About 16,500 were crammed into the place, the only reason it wasn't capacity was because there were only about 2,000 Burnley fans there. The locals were in full voice and I then knew how the Christians felt at the Colosseum as we sheepishly clung in small groups on the terrace.

The Burnley crowd filled up as the first half started. Many must have flown down the motorways after getting out of work as soon as they could. A major surprise was that McMinn was favoured and Burnley looked like they were planning on going down fighting. Super John Francis was up front with Heath, Deary and Eyres supporting. Steve Davis, Pender, Beresford, Parkinson, Joyce and Thompson completing the line-up.

The game started poorly for Burnley. They looked like a team waiting to be beaten. The ball was hardly in the Plymouth half and after a fair battering of the Claret goal, after about 18 mins Plymouth went one up. The goal was scored right in front of us. Joyce cleared weakly from a corner and the ball fell to a green shirted player stood just inside the penalty box. He lashed the ball into the top right hand corner. It all seemed inevitable, this was the script that had been written, and the players were performing it word perfect.

Comments such as, "We'll leave after the third goes in" echoed around that open end as the game restarted. Burnley did seem to be a little brighter after the kick-off, perhaps the Plymouth players relaxed after the goal. Nothing was evident of the dramatic turning of the game that was about to occur. Around the 35 minute mark, Heath received the ball unpressured in the midfield area. He slotted a weighted ball towards the penalty box with SJF chasing it, together with two defenders. I've got the video of this goal and he must have made three yards on them in 20 yards. He accelerated past the defenders and stuck the ball low past the advancing keeper. The crowd fell silent around the stadium and the Burnley fans saw a glimmer of hope and jumped around, making a fair amount of noise.

The restart, the second goal. Us Clarets hadn't stopped celebrating before the ball was in the back of the Plymouth net again. The scenario was identical. A through ball in midfield from Heath, SJF chased it down and beat the keeper low. It took a couple of seconds for the events to sink in to the 2,500 at the other end of the pitch. It was more of a dazing experience than a joyous one. The celebrations were long and loud until half-time came.

Half-time saw us Clarets still staring wide-eyed and disbelieving. I don't think there were many who thought we would still win this game though. How wrong we all were as Burnley came out for the second half and gave one of the best performances of 11 men in Claret that I've seen. McMinn was fantastic curling in pinpoint corners, beating his markers two or three times, nut-megs and even having the audacity of waving bye-bye to one player hopelessly trying to save a corner.

The third goal came from Joyce (against his former club) and he almost climbed into the crowd. This was the cushion needed and for the last quarter of the match we knew we were going to win. The chants started up and I've never seen a crowd so turned around. The despair on the Clarets' faces pre- match was now evident on the Plymouth hordes. The "We've only got 10 men" chorus was thrown back in their faces with "You're better with 10 men!" Ten minutes of that saw the home fans either clambering for the exits, or clambering to get into our enclosure. The Burnley fans were still wide- eyed, but they were now smiling as well. A football crowd as one, savouring a victory that wasn't expected.

The final whistle came and the Burnley players came over to celebrate with the fans. As they turned to return to the dressing room, I noticed that every Plymouth fan had left. We were penned in for 15 minutes after full time, still singing every Clarets song in memory and dancing on the terraces. Finally the Police opened the crush gates at the bottom of the terrace and lead us across the pitch to a wide exit. Halfway across and Frank Teasdale appeared in the Plymouth director's box with a pint. The Clarets changed direction and 10 minutes of celebrations with Chairman and Manager ensued. Jimmy came out wearing his faded green top. To be honest he looked more surprised than any of us. Eventually, about half an hour after full time, the Burnley fans left the ground into deserted streets for the long drive home and the road to Wembley.

For the record Burnley went onto win the Play-off final against Stockport in a bad-tempered game. John Francis' career was ended in that game with a ligament-tearing knee twist, Warren Joyce was transferred to Hull City, and Ted McMinn ended up playing and coaching in Australia. Adrian Heath went on to manage Burnley after Jimmy Mullen had left under a cloud, his tenure soured by bad relations with the crowd. His most memorable game during his time as the Burnley manager wasn't the play-off final win, but this one.

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