I think of it as a political thing. (no,
really, stick with me!)
I went to King Teds in the sixties. Hillsborough had been recently built - interest-free loans, chosen for the 66 World Cup, 'friends - Eric Taylor etc. - in high places' nothing really changes. To be fair, their cantilever stand
was awesome back then and we had the old, wooden John Street stand, tin-shed kop, no stand on the south side etc.
To say we felt like the poor relations was an understatement. In 1970 - back in the day when the FA Cup draw was made live on radio at lunchtime - we all gathered round somebody's trannie (portable radio to you, son!). Noticeable in the crowd were the prefects - all tall, well-bred, good-looking bastards and, without exception, Wednesday fans (probably now being chased by Operation Yewtree). When it came out we were at home to Everton a huge cheer went up. We had
no chance but, what should have been a celebration for Sheffield football turned into another opportunity for those bastards to take the piss.
Around that time, Santos of Brazil (including Pele) played a friendly at Hillsborough on a midweek afternoon. In assembly the headmaster asked 'who would like the afternoon off to watch Sheffield Wednesday?' A huge cheer went up 300-odd boys put their hands up. For a laugh, he asked 'Is there anybody who
doesn't want the afternoon off?' One hand went up. Mine.
So began my career as a Blade, Wednesday-hater and all-round Bolshie bastard!
(Something that continues to this day!)
In the late 80s, I moved to S10. Went into the local for the first time and it seemed that everybody supported Wednesday. Never mind. Another challenge! It hit home after the 1993 semi at Wembley. When we finally all limped home a day or two later, an overbearing cunt of a pig fan gleefully told me that, for the match, the place was 'absolutely packed with Wednesdayites watching the match on TV.' I replied 'Yeah. That's the difference. We Blades
went to the match. You lot just surrounded yourselves with like-minded, big-gobbed bastards on a mutual-appreciation day.' (N.B. Wednesdayites
know, deep down that their team is shite but, like Scotland football supporters, think that if they surround themselves with fellow-delusionals, it'll make them good. It won't.)
And that's where the 'political' bit comes in. Just like people on the left wing have no qualms about impressing their views onto people (the BBC is packed with them), people like Michael Vaughan, that cunt from Reverend and the Makers etc. and getting endless opportunities to mouth off (see Heaven, Football or Grumble, Praise and), the 'local' media is obviously biased to the cunts as well. Us? We're 'built' in a totally different way. More modest. We keep our heads down and just get on with the many disappoinments that are thrown our way.
As well as being utterly different to the blue-nosed bastards, we also possess a quirky, anarchic humour, pragmatism and an off-the-wall view of life. (Despite their latest, pathetic attempt could Wednesday - or the fans of any other club come to that - have come up with 'The Greasy Chip Butty Song'? We don't really care what anybody else thinks (but not in that Millwall, 'no one likes us, we don't care' thuggish way). We're the Sankt Pauli of English football.
When
we have some minor trouble at home games, they shut half the fucking stand down. I wonder what slap on the wrist Villa will get? We were cheated of our place in the Premier, are regularly on the end of shocking refereeing decisions in big matches (2003 FA- and League Cup semis come to mind), but we plod on.
We're different and thank fuck for that. Just look at their 'fans' who ruined the city while they 'worked' for SCC. - Betts, Blunkett, Ashdown, Hattersley. Cunts every one (and that continues the political theme - supporting Wendy has always been synonymous with being a pinko.)
Most people accept that you end up supporting the team your dad supported/took you to see when you were a kid. Not in my case! I'm convinced that, had my dad been a pig - or if I'd given in to the incredible pressures when I was growing up - I would have naturally gravitated to the Blades. Why? Because the Blades are
different. And so am I.
And for those who say 'I don't care what Wednesday do.' Nonsense. Part of the package in supporting a team is hating your nearest rivals. After all, they're hell-bent on destroying
our prospects. (Witness RS not letting the ludicrous Jordan Rhodes rumours to die down. 'I don't believe it, but you never know...' All part of the endless, subliminal message the local media force-feed us with.)
Imagine you next-door neighbour suddenly parking a Ferrari on his drive. You go out, admire it and congratulate him.
Then you think 'Cunt.'
). Fortunately the school team colours were green and maroon - so no problem there.
it has been his Saturday night out attire for about the last six years ffs. Then their is his stupid mate who is about 6' 8" and is the spitting image of Plug from the old comic strip The Bash Street Kids with his gob full of teeth that stick out at all angles like one of the Terrorhawks, this one likes to tell anyone in the pub who will listen how they are the most massive club in the world and how they never miss a game (this is at 6pm on a Saturday when the pigs are at home, he must get to Skeggi by helicopter) ............... thick as fucking shit ............ pig shit. Then you want to see their women, fuck me they dress from Fantasy Island market the fat bastards and make up put on by the shovel load .............. Christ knows what people think of Sheffield after seeing these examples of low life they even make people from Scunny look up market.
