As you drive through Padiham, on the A671 Burnley Road towards Gawthorpe, there is a row of shops on either side which is now mainly takeaways, bookmakers and barber shops. It was on this road that my grandparents ran a small grocery business back in the day. Across from them was a sports shop – Yardley’s Sports – set up by the former international athlete Malcolm Yardley. It was here, in downtown Padiham, that an unsuccessful attempt at brainwashing took place in the late 1960’s.

My grandad had been a joint Burnley/Stanley fan, back in those days when you went to a game every Saturday alternating between local teams. But when Stanley went out of the league his allegiances transferred 100% to Burnley FC, reinforced when they moved from Accrington to Padiham to run their new shop.

I guess it was only natural therefore that he tried his utmost to enrol me into the claret faithful. It was subtle at first but aided and abetted by the villainous retailing influencers at Yardley’s Sports, the bribes started to arrive.

First off, a “damaged” Subbuteo team – the box had been “squashed during stocktaking” and so the Yardley’s gave it to my grandad to “pass on to his grandson with their compliments.” It was received with polite indifference by me, but this team was only ever going to play and naturally, be heavily defeated by the Rovers team I already owned.

Shortly thereafter, upon my next Padiham excursion, they saw me outside steaming up their shop front with my humid breath, as I gazed excitedly at all the sporting goodies in the window. They warmly invited me in to look around. This soon resulted in them donating a claret & blue bar scarf to me; apparently “damaged by the sun”. It had been on window display and therefore “couldn’t be sold...and would I like it?” As a polite boy (at least sometimes..!) I accepted reluctantly and filed it towards the back and at the bottom of my wardrobe. No danger of it seeing sunlight again on my watch.

The final straw came with a replica shirt, claret body, blue sleeves... “Mum, why has grandad bought me a West Ham shirt?”. He got the message finally bless him and not long afterwards he was to lose his battle with leukaemia, ensuring no more unsolicited enticements would be forthcoming.

By this time, I was truly a Roverite, had been baptised into home and away games and would soon have a season ticket, just in time for us to be relegated, naturally - #ClassicRovers.

With each subsequent Rovers/Burnley game, my thoughts always return to those early childhood days and occasionally I wonder what might have been. It was tough early on as Burnley were then the dominant force in the early 70’s. Rovers dropped to the third division twice, before the wheels came off Bob Lord’s “team of the seventies” - but 1975, 1987, 1995 & 2002 confirmed the wisdom of my childhood choice.

Saturday lunchtime brings the latest instalment of the now ironically monikered ‘Cotton Mill Derby’. Burnley seem to be conducting their own Black Friday “Everything Must Go” clearout sale. Rumours swirl that the manager has threatened to walk out, morale is at an all-time low and gloom and despondency rein at t’Turf.

Methinks they do protest a little too much...

Rovers meanwhile were in relatively good shape until Tuesday night’s no-show against Blackpool. A thoroughly insipid display receiving the cup exit it deserved. Anyone watching that game could be left in little doubt that the remaining few days of the transfer window are vital if the squad is to be remotely competitive in this season’s Championship. If there was one Lancashire Derby to lose this week, the tangerine-tinged one was undoubtedly the right choice.

The recent record against “that lot” is quite poor and the hope is that we can catch them cold, a little like we did Leeds Utd and Leicester City last season. The main difference this season is we no longer have Sammie Szmodics.

If ever Makhtar Gueye &/or Yuki Ohashi wanted to cement their place in Rovers folklore – this weekend would be a decent time and place to do so!

One final point though, I won’t be standing up to show my ‘hatred of Burnley’ – it’s my personal acknowledgement of my grandad’s sterling, if ultimately futile efforts.