Wrongly typecast as a proponent of anti-football, Dyche gave the people of Burnley a team they could be proud of
For Sean Dyche the road to salvation would begin at Rock City in Nottingham. Liberated from the treadmill of management for the first time in almost a decade after being sacked by Burnley, Dyche enjoyed his first weekend of freedom having drinks with friends before taking in a bill of Manchester tribute acts. Camera‑phone footage from Sunday night shows him swaying along to a band called The Clone Roses.
Which on reflection feels about perfect. Given everything else going on at the moment, we may not have been ready as a society for the idea of a sad Sean Dyche. Dyche’s year-long New York sabbatical. Dyche’s lonely, penitent pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. A tearful Dyche addressing his adoring public one last time from the steps of Burnley town hall, as mourners lay scarves and candles at his feet. Nobody wants any of this. Dyche grooving along to (Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister on a shaky camera phone: nature has healed.
