Derby defeat...but a second half to be proud of
3 -v- 2 
It doesn’t get much bigger than Steel City derby week.
Sat in the pub Tuesday night I remember telling Salop and JP that I’d not really given much thought to the impending Boro game with all thoughts on our short trip to the Lane three sleepless nights later.
Now I’m not a Sheffielder, nor do I work with Pigs but in my short time supporting Wednesday and my even shorter time living in Sheffield I’ve learnt just how important this game is for the city.
You walk the streets in the days building up to the game and there’s just a buzz of anticipation.
You also get your fair share of abuse of course; I was walking through Broomhill on Wednesday and a van drove past, the passenger leant out the window to shout in my direction ‘COME ON BLADES!’ with the accompanying, obligatory two fingers and fist pump. Until you live in Sheffield it’s hard to understand how much rests on this result.
-
I knew a week of restlessness would culminate in almost complete insomnia on Thursday night; watching the Steel City Heroes DVD at 4am wasn’t perhaps ideal in my quest for sleep but it certainly pumped me up for the night ahead.
By the time I did stir yesterday morning my phone was abuzz with texts aplenty from Wednesdayites wishing the hours away to 7.45pm. I felt sick from the pit of my stomach all day and a free day of twiddling thumbs and just watching the clock wasn’t exactly ideal preparation. A bacon buttie was the minimum requisite on derby day but even in the sarnie shop I was served by a Blade who told me I best not come in again if we won the game!
The afternoon slowly drifted to evening and after a light tea that I struggled to keep down it was time to set off for the Lane. Of course, Sheffield United is a unique away day for many reasons but none more so than for the fact that it is within walking distance; 1.8 miles from door to door according to Google - half hour darn Eccy Road to me and you.
I met up with JP for a quick pint in the Nursery Tavern where the atmosphere was jovial but both of us hardly spoke a word as the nerves began to get too much. We both agreed to get down to the ground as early as possible to avoid any unpleasantness. Within 10 minutes we were on Bramall Lane and we made our way through the massed throngs of Unitedites to the away turnstiles. It’s easy to see why it kicked off so badly a couple of seasons ago given the proximity of the entrance to the lower tier and the upper tier which houses home fans. After a quick piss I made my way to my seat and started to soak up the atmosphere.
I was right down the front behind the goal with a narrow view between the right-hand post and the stanchion; whilst not the best view for the match itself it was great to be so close to the pitch to sample the building atmosphere.
Some bloke to my left was saying at least we would be safe as Wednesday rarely hit the target! ‘That optimistic then?’ I retorted to which he replied: ‘Well I’ve put a tenner on Tudgay to score first and Wednesday to win 4-0 at 300-1.’ Make yer mind up fella!
By the time the players eventually emerged the place was a cauldron of noise with the 3,000 Wednesdayites proving equal to the wall of noise all around them. That god-awful Annie’s Song was rolled out and finally it was time for action.
The talking was over and battle was about to commence in the 124th Steel City derby.
In hindsight it’s very hard to recall all the action without seeing the highlights but I actually thought we started brightly. We looked comfortable on the ball and Blades new boy Davies got booked early on for scything down O’Connor. The Irishman had replaced Tommy Miller while Richard Wood returned at the back in place of the injured Mark Beevers, having himself shaken off illness and injury in the days leading up to the game.
However, after a promising first five minutes for the Owls, Woody and his team-mates would soon have plenty to do. I think it was Henderson who forced Granty into a good save to force United’s first corner. The ball was floated in and Chris Morgan was in acres of space to head the ball down. It bounced off at least two defenders before dropping very fortunately to little Jamie Ward who was on hand to knock it into the corner from close range. Granty had no chance from such close ranger and the ex-Chesterfield man wheeled away into the corner.
SHIT.
Me and Japes had spoken of how important it was we kept it quiet first twenty minutes and got the home crowd on their side’s back as soon as possible but it soon became clear this wasn’t going to happen tonight.
Despite the goal Wednesday still looked bright up front and Varney I think had a shot saved by Bunn. More poor defending on the quarter hour, though, left Ched Evans in space and Henderson just managed to get his foot on the end of it to divert it home.
The home fans were going mental now and the shirts were coming off and being wheeled around.
The Wednesday fans who had made so much noise were stood in stunned silence wondering what the hell was going on.
Wednesday were playing poorly and started resorting to long-ball tactics much to our frustration. United looked like they wanted it so much more and were winning 9/10 of the 50/50 challenges. Their methods may not have been pretty and they got a fair few yellow cards in the first half but it was effective.
Ward went off injured and bizarrely was stretchered off via the away end so felt the wrath of Wednesday fans on his way off. I just looked at him from my close vantage point and the lad was sort of smiling to himself. No amount of abuse could take away from him the fact he had scored in the Sheffield derby.
Worse was to come of course just before half-time.
Cotterill ,who had replaced Ward, sent in a cross from the right and the ball seemed to bounce off Henderson then Buxton into the top corner past Lee Grant. Henderson looked bemused, I looked to the linesman.
Handball?
Offside?
Please?
There was nothing doing and now we were really staring down the barrel.
3-0 down at Bramall Lane and three sides of the ground jumping up and down like they’d won the lottery. I looked around at my fellow Wednesdayites and there was just shock rather than anger. There were a few shouts against Buxton and Purse, both of whom had had poor first halves, but most of us were just beginning to wonder how bad this might be. There was a realistic possiblity this would be the day the Blades finally avenged the Boxing Day Massacre 30 years on.
The half-time whistle blew and off the players skulked. I took my seat and just spent the fifteen minutes staring into space wondering what I was witnessing. The usual half-time buzz of chatter was just replaced with stunned silence for much of the interval while the Blades scored another blow by winning the race with the giant 2018 balls. The announcer was loving it and kept going on about how it was no contest. Just before the end of the break he played a track called ‘Divine Intervention’ and then chuckled to himself that maybe one team would be needing it to get back into this game. By this point I was getting pissed off and really hoping Wednesday would come out and give a second-half performance to shove the words down the bastard’s throat.
-
The Wednesday players were already out on the pitch having been sent out early, presumably following a round of fooks from Lawsy. Esajas came on for the ineffective JJ at the break and the general feeling in the away end was that we just needed to avoid furhter embarrassment or indeed a Boxing Day Massacre of our own.
There was a bit of hoo-ha around me before kick-off as some bloke behind me reckoned Bunn had given the away fans two fingers as he walked towards his goal. I didn’t see it myself and some bloke to my left reckoned he had put three fingers up to indicate the score but either way it was uncalled for from the Blackburn reserve and he’s lucky more people didn’t see it as it might have kicked off big time.
Luckily we didn’t have long to dwell on this as Wednesday flew out of the blocks.
Esajas nearly scored with his first touch, a header that was palmed out by Bunn, but the ball soon fell to Tudgay to the right of the goal and he fired home.
It was exactly the start we needed and Tudders removed his shirt while we jumped up and down and began to dream of a comeback that had seemed a million miles away sixteen minutes earlier. A lot of Unitedites were still returning to their seats when the goal went in and there was a deafening silence from the home fans who had been giving it all the ‘Easy easy’ stuff when their third went in.
Wednesdayites were really starting to believe when a few minutes later Potter went close from an Esajas free-kick; Tudgay then again found himself with the ball near the fire post but this time he fired over from close. You’d have put money on him hitting the target after the quality of his goal minutes earlier and you could see how disappointed with himself he was.
We carried on urging the lads on and by now Wednesday fans were kicking every ball, winning every tackle.
I had a bit of room between my seat and the hoardings at the front and I was walking back and forth as if I was dying for a piss.
Wednesday began to stroke the ball around, seemingly playing without any fear and doing what we know they can do when they don’t resort to the hoofball tactics so familiar to our neighbours.
With 25 minutes left we got a free-kick thirty yards out directly in front of me. Potter looked favourite but I saw Esajas eyeing it up and that goal at Birmingham flashed through my mind. ‘Hit it Esajas!’ I shouted moments before he stepped up and lashed it into the bottom corner to Bunn’s left.
By now it was absolute pandemonium amongst the Wednesdayites.
I jumped up and down like a madman punching the air and hugging anyone in the vicinity.
Some young lad who had looked so depressed at half time was now sat on his Dad’s shoulders bouncing up and down.
I picked up a young lad next to me and hurled him through the air before rustling his Dad’s thinning hair.
After what seemed like a good five minutes of celebrating we all re-assumed the position and now really began to believe we could get a third.
‘Wednesday til I die’ was being belted out by every one of the 3,000 and it was hairs up on the back of the neck time. You could see in the faces of the Unitedites to our right that they were absolutely shitting themselves. They had been absolutely coasting at half-time and now it was them staring down the barrel.
Their players were clueless.
As Wednesday continued to knock the ball about with great confidence they were just hoofing it aimlessly in the air.
Clarke came on for Varney straight after the goal and I thought this a bit unfair on Varney who for me had had an excellent game although I can understand Laws’ desire to get Clarke on as he can be very effective on the back of defenders and seems to have a knack of creating chances.
For some reason Wednesday now seemed to lose momentum just as we looked like taking command and United got back into the game with a couple of chances of their own; Morgan thought he had headed home a fourth but Grant made an absolutely top-class save to somehow claw the ball over the bar.
By now it was pretty difficult to see with my view blocked by both stewards and riot police who had lined up in front of us. It seemed daft but if we’d have scored an equaliser I dare say a few Wednesdayites would have ended up on the pitch!
Esajas had a couple of chances late on but disappointingly time ebbed away and in injury time United managed to keep the ball in our half with relative ease.
The Unitedites who had been so quiet all half finally began to sing and dance with about 20 seconds left on the clock. They knew they had got away with it big time and when the final whistle blew all around me there was an overwhelming feeling of pride that Wednesday had fought so hard in the second half and had come so close to an unbelievable comeback.
-
The players got a rousing reception as they came down to give us their appreciation. Tommy Spurr looked absolutely devastated and the lad had given absolutely everything in the second half. At one point he chased a tackle down on the right wing, about 60 yards away from where he should have been! Esajas pointed to the badge and motioned to us to keep our chins up and our heads held high.
And we did.
Walking out of the ground there was a buzz again.
It’s difficult to explain after you’ve just been beaten by your biggest rivals but that second half performance gave us all a lot to be proud of and a lot of reason to be optimistic for the future.
The first half performance was unacceptable and the defensive errors simply have to stop if we’re going to finish in the top half this season. But some of our passing really is excellent at times and I think we just need the confidence to go out there and stroke the ball around, have a bit of patience and turn the screw with the composure of Gray, the skill of Esajas and the sheer quality of Tudgay up top.
-
It was a long walk home after such an enthralling game. Listening to Radio Sheffield on the way back there were tons of Wednesday fans saying how proud they were and United fans admitting they got out of jail but they rightly pointed out that all that really matters is the result.
Either way it must have been a fantastic game to watch on TV and a good advert for Sheffield football in general.
If anything positive can come out of that game it’s that the World Cup people see how passionate the people in Sheffield are about football.
We’ve got a long wait now to restore the bragging rights but I think Wednesday fans have every right to go to work on Monday with their head held high.
We may have lost the game but we absolutely battered them second half and gave them a right scare.
That’ll do for me.
Creg
Owls Alive
