Fibs your Dad told

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Sirius

Sirius

Well knownBlade
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As far as I know my father lied to me just twice in his long life. The first was that Father Christmas was really going to come down our chimney bearing gifts
The second was that the BLADES would be invincible. It was so long ago, based on one of the first post war performances and I was knee high to a grasshopper sitting on his knee
I listened in awe and was indoctrinated, mesmerised and sentenced to seventy odd years of total support. Through thick and thin mainly thin waiting for Dad’s promise to come true. I should have realised that things weren’t quite right after relegation followed
by then it was too late. I no longer believed inbFather Christmas but my love of the Blades got stronger as I came to understand the game. its too late for me now. Looking back Reg Freeman delivered promotion frm the Second Division and I was privileged to see the incomparable Jimmy Hagan

i was right behind John Harris Dave Basset and Neil Warnock but the best was saved until the last
CWAK ALMOST MADE dad’s promise come true

Now they have gone but I’m still here and will be a Blade until I am carried out in a box with brass handles
we are a club without a leader but United are bigger than any Johnny. Come llately
i will get behind the team whatever standard they perform to

i may have misgivings about the present set up but nothing bad lasts for ever

UTB. FTP
 
Last edited:



My dad told me every other Saturday he was popping in the Sheaf for a 'quick one'. He'd bring me out a glass of pop and a bag of cheese and onion and I'd kick a half deflated ball about on the front for 2 hours with some other kids who's dad's had lied to them until they all came out together, half cut, and took us to the match.
 
I stood on the BLLT once, aged about eight or nine and the ref blew up for half time

"Dad", I said. "What to they do at half time? Where do they go?"

"Oh," he said. "For a pint, and a couple of fags."

I had this enduring image in my mind of Woody and Currie sat on stools in a bar in the John Street still in their muddy white-socked Blades kit and boots and Hemsley arriving with three foaming pints of Mansfield, Woody going, "Cheers, Ted!" and taking a hearty swig from the upper third and doing that refreshed 'ahhhh!', with TC sparking up a Parky rough using a box of 'Ship' matches, possibly the sound of dominoes being shuffled in the background at another table.

This was destroyed somewhat with Bassett and French and 'the zone' and later Warnock losing his shit with the players in various vignettes. No beer and tabs seen.

pommpey
 
Sirius said:
As far as I know my father lied to me just twice in his long life. The first was that Father Christmas was really going to come down our chimney bearing gifts
The second was that the BLADES would be invincible. It was so long ago, based on one of the first post war performances and I was knee high to a grasshopper sitting on his knee
I listened in awe and was indoctrinated, mesmerised and sentenced to seventy odd years of total support. Through thick and thin mainly thin waiting for Dad’s promise to come true. I should have realised that things weren’t quite right after relegation followed
by then it was too late. I no longer believed inbFather Christmas but my love of the Blades got stronger as I came to understand the game. its too late for me now. Looking back Reg Freeman delivered promotion frm the Second Division and I was privileged to see the incomparable Jimmy Hagan

i was right behind John Harris Dave Basset and Neil Warnock but the best was saved until the last
CWAK ALMOST MADE dad’s promise come true

Now they have gone but I’m still here and will be a Blade until I am carried out in a box with brass handles
we are a club without a leader but United are bigger than any Johnny. Come llately
i will get behind the team whatever standard they perform to

i may have misgivings about the present set up but nothing bad lasts for ever

UTB. FTP
Click to expand...
Your dad carried out his parental responsibility very well. My dad achieved something similar by example. His first game was the record home win v Cardiff, his last game the infamous defeat by Walsall that relegated us to Division 4. It convinced me that I could achieve a different trajectory.
Secondly, he had started work just before the 1936 Cup Final, and as the office junior could not get the Saturday off work. After that he took a week’s holiday at the beginning of May every year, so that he would get to see Utd in a Wembley Cup Final; that plan worked well! I decided never to go to Wembley until Utd got to the Final. As the game changed, I eventually went to Wembley to see Utd in semifinals and playoff finals. That worked well! (Though the Hull match was at least memorable).
I dread to think what misery I have now stored up for my kids and grandkids. But I wouldn’t change a thing...
 
When I first started attending matches Colin Morris was the main penalty taker. On 2 occasions very early on in my Blades life we were awarded penalties which my dad enthusiastically told me were as good as goals as Colin was taking them. One hit the post (Millwall?) and the other was saved. Now I know CM regularly comes near the top of 'best penalty taker' polls so I can forgive my old man. But to this day he's firmly lodged in my mind as a shit penalty taker due to the ruined expectations as a 7 year old kid.
 
Like many kids I hated going to the dentist and would do a runner if I knew what was coming so my dad would tell me we were off to the park or somewhere else good and then start a inwardly spiralling walk to the dentist. By the time I realised the true horror of my situation I would find it was too late and he would grab my the scruff of the neck and drag me in. Later found out he would use the same technique on the dog when taking him to the vet as he would park his arse on the pavement and also refuse to go in.
 
"Don't worry love, I'll be back from the shops soon. The baby will be fine"
 
"Come on you'll love sea fishing" of we trot to Brid Harbour 5.30am aged 6. 6.05am: Boooooooooork!!.
"Thats it youngen,fish will love it".
Lying bxxxxxd. But still loved mi dad.
 



When my Dad first asked me if I wanted to go to watch United he told me "They won't always win, and even if you can't see it coming they'll always let you down in the end, but if you go you're stuck with them for life". Now if I moan about the team he says at least I got the warning he never did.
 
I first went with my Dad, Grandad and Uncles when I was eight. My Dad always claimed that if United weren’t losing at half time and kicking towards Shoreham St second half, they very rarely lose.

Although he’s no longer here, I always think of his mantra when the circumstances fit and prior to this season, it has been a generally reliable source of optimism for me and his grandson.
 
My Dad always told me the harsh truth, which was usually that we were shit and wouldn't win.

When I was a kid I was always wildly optimistic and could never understand why he wasn't the same. As I got older I realised that he'd seen it all before and was just trying to protect me by being honest with me.

The play off finals in 2003 and 2009 stick out as the ones where he told me we didn't have a cat in hell's chance of winning and he was right.
 
I had an honest appraisal of the Blades from my dad, my son gets the same from me. Don't expect anything sparkling because we can clutch the most agonising defeat from the jaws of victory.

The only thing I tell my son is that if he doesn't watch the Blades then I won't take him to watch anyone else, that's not a fib though.
 
themaninblack said:
Aye, my dad got me hooked and I did the same with my kids. I think they call it Intergenerational Trauma.
Click to expand...

They f-k you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were f-ked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
The Blades are no good for your health.
 
Geordie Blade said:
To be fair to my dad, he told me that United were crap, but took me anyway. We won 5-0 in my first game (vs Bolton, with a Colin Morris hat-trick) and he still moaned about Keith Edwards straying offside too much.
Click to expand...
That was my first ever ‘proper’ game too.

Thankfully I’d been taken to an early or pre-season cup game the previous year that turned out to be Terry Curran’s first home match in a United shirt. United were crap and I got to learn a whole new vocabulary from the abuse given to Curran. Valuable foundations for life on all fronts 🤣
 
When we went down with warnock my dad said we'll be back next year. Hasn't said anything this year though
 
Cheesebored said:
My dad told me every other Saturday he was popping in the Sheaf for a 'quick one'. He'd bring me out a glass of pop and a bag of cheese and onion and I'd kick a half deflated ball about on the front for 2 hours with some other kids who's dad's had lied to them until they all came out together, half cut, and took us to the match.
Click to expand...
Ditto...But swap the Sheaf for the Hermitage, Cremourne and as he used to call it, the bus stop (Penny Black)...I knew more pub doorsteps as kid, than the bloody milkman.
 
pommpey said:
I stood on the BLLT once, aged about eight or nine and the ref blew up for half time

"Dad", I said. "What to they do at half time? Where do they go?"

"Oh," he said. "For a pint, and a couple of fags."

I had this enduring image in my mind of Woody and Currie sat on stools in a bar in the John Street still in their muddy white-socked Blades kit and boots and Hemsley arriving with three foaming pints of Mansfield, Woody going, "Cheers, Ted!" and taking a hearty swig from the upper third and doing that refreshed 'ahhhh!', with TC sparking up a Parky rough using a box of 'Ship' matches, possibly the sound of dominoes being shuffled in the background at another table.

This was destroyed somewhat with Bassett and French and 'the zone' and later Warnock losing his shit with the players in various vignettes. No beer and tabs seen.

pommpey
Click to expand...
I was lucky enough to have a brief chat with Len Badger a few years back.
He told me both Woody and Eddie Colquhoun smoked like chimneys, but much to his frustration could run much faster than him.
 
This be the Verse:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They tell you that we'll win the league
But you just know this isn't true

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style scarves and hats
Who stood and cheered on Shoreham Street
Whilst Furphy's team just played like twats

Blade hands on misery to Blade.
It's built into our DNA
You'll never breed it out your blood
This curs'd Sheff United way

pommpey

(acknowledgements to Philip Larkin)
 
Pittsburg Blade said:
I was lucky enough to have a brief chat with Len Badger a few years back.
He told me both Woody and Eddie Colquhoun smoked like chimneys, but much to his frustration could run much faster than him.
Click to expand...
I was once on holiday and found myself laid on a sun lounger next to Geoff Salmons, we had a few conversations about Utd but one tale I recall, was about Len Badger, who he claimed often used to be first into training and beneath the changing room.
He said Len Badger used to be the first to get ready, leave the changing room then piss on the boiler which created some rather unpleasant steam which a short time later wafted its way upwards for his teammates, much to the annoyance of John Harris apparently. 😉
 



Nothing to do with football, but my dad used to tell me creative lies all the time. Three that I remember most vividly were

  • The incandescent petrol stains you see in the gutter sometimes were dead rainbows
  • Prawns were actually octopus cocks
  • Tire fires were how they made Guinness

I've still never eaten a prawn.
 
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