I reckon it is time for me to put my reflections and memories to this page.
I remember in the build up to the match there was a lot of people who said they wasn’t paying £42 for a ticket, and
LS26BLADE kindly offered to let me use his loyalty points to get Brownie Jnr a ticket as we have all been going to the matches together for the last few years, and he knew exactly what it would mean to a 8 year old boy to see something special like that although we didn’t know it would pan out, and during various times where Brownie Jnr was subjected to pig properganda, he occasionally asked me to take him to Hillsborough, and I had promised him a trip to Hillsborough one day with me, but with the proviso that I will make the day special. Thankfully his immune system was strong and he resisted multiple attempts of pig properganda infecting him, and his colours were already firmly nailed to the red and white cause.
I was apprehensive in the days leading up to the match, I felt a strange kind of nervous energy, the sort where you think something good is going to happen but you daren’t think about it in case it doesn’t come off. The morning of the match my Wednesday ladyfriend and her two Wednesdayite sons came round to my gaff for breakfast together. They was all in their blue and white, whilst me and Brownie Jnr was resplendent in our red and white. They were all supremely confident, forecasting a heavy win, whilst I was like a cat on hot bricks, I just couldn’t settle at all, couldn’t eat, and she saw it in my eyes that I was incredibly nervous.
We went to the match separately, we had decided to a while back and meet up again after the match, so she went off in her car, and a few minutes later I went off in mine, driving all the way to Foxhill with the windows down blasting out a medley of United songs out of the stereo, getting some funny looks, and having one fat oaf walking over to my car effing and blinding and calling us cunts (I thought it was only our fans who behaved like that towards women and children).
We parked up and walked down Foxhill Road, and a group of lads coming out the Pheasant clocked I was wearing a Blades shirt under my top and gave us a bit of friendly stick, telling us we was both brave walking down there as Unitedites, Brownie Jnr having seen it kick off outside the away end at Bramall Lane v Norwich burst in to tears as he was afraid I was going to get a kicking, the same who told me we was brave clocked that he was scared and said “there isn’t anything to worry about kid, we are all Sheffield” and made sure he was ok and reassured him there wasn’t anything to be scared about. I call in to the Sainsbury’s and bought a couple of bottles of water and a couple of bottles of pop to take in with me as im very particular about my money ending up in the pockets of Wednesday and Wednesday supporting businesses if it isn’t necessary. It was when I saw the side walking out of Sainsburys that I saw the side and immediately worried, Clarke and Brooks up front was the main one, and I couldn’t see where the win would come from.
Getting in the ground we was made to remove the tops from our drinks, and when we got in the top tier of the away end, I was immediately hit the same sense of raw hatred of Sheffield Wednesday that I always have had when we play them, friends become sworn emenies, and we had an hour to wait until kick off my nerves getting worse and worse and the pangs of hatred became more and more real and reached a crescendo as the announcer played Hi-Ho Silver lining.
As the match kicked off I seem to remember us looking settled early on, and when we won the free kick I just had a feeling that something would happen. Then in the blink of an eye it happened, the ball getting knocked to Fleck and him hitting it sweetly and it curling round the wall, it curls a lot more than is apparent on telly. The moments that followed was absolute pandemonium, I must have been bellowing yessssss for a good minute or so, with both fists raised skywards and by the time I had stopped the game had restarted and Brownie Jnr said to me “I’ve neber seen you celebrate a goal like that”
The game seemed to settle down, and the home supporters seemed shell shocked and the atmosphere a bit flatter, then all of a sudden Leon Clarke appeared in what seemed an acre of space and nochelently rolled the pass Westwood for 2-0, and me and Brownie Jnr going absolutely berserk
The rest of the half seemed to settle down a bit, and as half time approached I prayed we didn’t concede before half time as I knew that it would mean they came out for the second half with all guns blazing, and Hooper duly pulled one back on the stroke of half time, and for some reason it seemed to knock the wind out of sails.
The first 15 minutes of the second half was painful, absolute agony, as the home fans found their voice, their side picked up their game and attacked in waves, with purpose and our game became all about self preservation rather than getting a third, I had said they would come out like that and it was up to us to hold out for 15-20 minutes, let them tire themselves out and pick them off on the break. Then the worst happened and Joao scored.
For 93 seconds and it seemed like 15 minutes, it was horrendous, painful and torture and we was stunned in to silence whilst the home stands bounced in sheer glee, with everyone bouncing and it even though I hate them it was a spectacular sight. To me for every single one of the long seconds it felt like we had blown it, United had disappointed me so many times before, and it was just written out that it would happen again. I can’t rememner the bouncing stopping, Just Duffy breaking down the right and looking like he was going to try and stick a cross in or look for a pass, and then in slow motion the net just seemed to bulge, and I stood motionless with disbelief for a moment before going barmy once again.
I was expecting them to come back at us, but they was broken, the atmosphere was flat and they sensed it, and we knew it but they was broken, we had broken their spirit, they had nothing more to give, and it didn’t surprise when Leon barged through their hapless defence and knocked home the 4th to kick off the party, 2,000 Blades celebrating and enjoying a party atmosphere whilst the home fans quietly left the stadium, finishing off with an injury time serenade to Chris Wilder celebrating his birthday.
After the match we had to wait a while to get let out, we quietly walked back up to Foxhill, I sent the ladyfriend a text message
- “Do you still love me xx”
- “Yeah, but just as long as you don’t mention this ever again xx”
We got back in the car, rang a couple of friends on the way home, just to speak about how brilliant it was, and when we got home, it was straight in front of the telly to watch the goals all over again.
I’ve supported United a long time, and that for me was the day never to forget, we broke them, we know it, they knew it. I’d have loved that day no matter what and wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but you know what really made it for me. It was just seeing the happiness and delight in the eyes of an 8 year old knowing that he wouldn’t have ever wanted to have been on the other side that day, and knowing that he knew he could have gone to the dark side and there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done about it, but he had made his choice, watched some right shit under Clough and Adkins, seen from afar the pigs enjoy a couple of season doing well whilst we floundered, but that day I knew and he knew, that United was under his skin just as much as they are under mine, you can’t quanitify it or put in to words how it feels, you just know and that day, and we both knew.
