Watching with the excitement of the long distance fan

This post was written by exiled Blade Giacomo Squintani a couple of months ago at my request. I wanted something that would tell what it is like to follow the Blades from afar, with only rare live viewings, hanging on the words on social media, fan forums and the briefest of highlights on The Football League Show.

You could say that Giacomo was lucky. He doesn't get dragged down by the week in week out performances and results. You could argue that in terms of the game he attended he was lucky, but going into the second leg at Swindon, maybe we need to approach it with the excitement of a long distance fan and realise that, like at Giacomo's game, a surprise can happen. Anything can happen.

Photo Copyright : Sam Cunliffe

Valentine’s Day. That commercial creation designed at shifting flowers, chocolates, cards… perennial source of teenage embarrassment and adult whinging (it’s always too much or too little, isn’t it?)… A right waste of money!

I solved the problem by proposing to the now Mrs S on February 12 (2005, that is). That way we have our own anniversary and don’t have to faff around with any of that malarkey. It also means that, when the fixtures threw up United at Ashton Gate on February  14, it was never going to be a challenge to secure a pass!

Ian has kindly invited me to jot down some thoughts about the day, from the perspective of an exiled Blade. Because, having made the mistake of leaving Sheffield for a second time in 1998, following my initial extradition (aged six weeks) to Italy in 1976, that’s what I am. When Saturday comes, I follow the rituals via Twitter: the pilgrimage, the hydration, the build-up inside the ground… rituals I remember well. Rituals by which I could once set my watch: whatever the weather, whatever the traffic, they always seemed to take place at the same time. Just like, regardless of the length of the Bible passages and the sermons, handshakes and communion seem to when Sunday comes.

But it’s different when you’re a lapsed stadium-goer. When Bramall Lane is 178 miles away, yet Ashton Gate is just eleven, but still you’re only going to cover that distance to watch Dem Blades. You no longer go through the rituals automatically: you need to think about your order of service and work out those milestones. And, if you’re me, odds are you’ll get them wrong.

I cautiously caught a bus just before 1pm, a time not dissimilar to the one when my late Grandfather would have turned the key and set the car in motion along Sharrow Vale Road. But back then we had to find a parking place, walk over and allow chatting time with the familiar faces. Here, it’s a five-minute walk from the bus stop to Ashton Gate, not being Mourinho I had no bus to park… so I found myself in Bedminster with what felt like an age to spare. Took a lengthy wander around Greville Smyth Park, finding time to sit on a bench for my first instalment of homemade sarnies… and eventually the time felt right to walk through the gates.

Ever the fashion guru, I was sporting my black-and-red 1997 AVEC sweater. It’s a good dozen years younger than the green polo I wore when Ian and I first met up in 2013, after all! But there was never any danger of aggro: like it or not, I could easily have blended in with the locals, most of them seemingly turning to red and white scarves. Having never seen that much white on Bristol City shirts, I did occasionally wonder whether we’d taken over Bristol. But such thoughts were… premature.

As I took my place in the Atyeo stand, I recognised a few people. Don’t ask me for names: but quite a few faces looked familiar. I must have seen them at The Lane, maybe outside the ground or maybe in the proximity of one Michael D. Rooker, or on the road. All I knew is that I’d seen them. And suddenly I felt at home. Because, for one day a year, the accent in BS3 sounds… local.

I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but even infidels will concede that ‘The Greasy Chip Butty Song’ is one of the finest, its blend of pride, passion, history, humour and self-mockery quintessentially Sheffield and quintessentially United. I could be anywhere on this planet singing it out loud with fellow Blades and I’d feel at home. Bedminster was no exception… and then we were off!

For a detailed match report, read here. My abridged version:

1. Down 1-0 at the break: unlucky.

2. Didn’t panic, kept playing football. Done looked quality.

3. Were denied a penalty shortly before Done’s equaliser.

4. Deservedly went 2-1 up as City never really increased the pressure as you’d expect the League leaders to do at home.

5. Jamie Murphy to seal it in the 82’ minute. 3-1. Three points. Job’s a good’un. And Done IS quality.

Not being able to drive and living in the UK’s largest town without a train station, away games are a rarity for me. Which is a shame, given my track record in recent years (with Wembley obviously not counting as ‘Away’):

25/04/2011: back from 2-0 down to end a disastrous away record under Micky Adams by winning 3-2 at Reading. A truly bonkers experience.

05/05/2012: 2-2 at Exeter: not quite the party that a few weeks earlier we thought it might have been.

23/11/2013: Roberto’s first (and, so far, only) game – and we nicked it 1-0 at Ashton Gate

Sincere apologies to the faithful Blades who travel up and down this country in weather far worse than we had in Bristol a few weeks back, for whom the elation of Ashton Gate is a rare feeling… that’s ten points from four for me! And we’d all but won in Exeter, but that would have been the most pointless win ever…

During the second half at Ashton Gate I’d got talking to the Blade next to me. He was a fellow exile, having driven up from Yeovil. Beyond the spoken words, there was a silent appreciation of this rare privilege of watching The Blades, accompanied by the chagrin that it was indeed a rarity. Least that’s how it felt for me: maybe he was just wondering what the traffic home was going to be like. I should have asked.

At the final whistle, having set off at that leisurely, post-match place, I made a run for the bus stop. There was an orderly queue: in fact, there were about three. Not quite sure if I joined the right one to secure one of the four available standing places, with some of the many home fans who’d left ahead of the final whistle having got on earlier to but fill the bus: but I got on there alright. I’d earnt the right to leave a few Robins behind. Well, Dem Blades had won it for me. Lots of red and white on the bus back to Portishead, but I was the only one smiling! And I duly celebrated with my second lot of sarnies. That’s how I roll.

No post-match pint(s) for me: best part of an hour on a bus, two minute walk to my front door and quickly got ready to go to dinner at friends’. I kept on my 125^th shirt, but it was lost on them, neither big on football. Ah well.

So, there you go: some thoughts from an exiled Blade. A Blade who grew up in exile, in Italy, returning to Sheffield in 1994 only to leave a second time in 1998. My first departure was justifiable enough: my parents lived in Italy and clearly thought that I should grow up with them, Mum only having travelled back to God’s Own County to deliver me unto an unsuspecting world. But second time round… that was a mistake, and one that I look back upon every day. A mistake greatly influenced by an uncle’s passing comment that I should leave Sheffield for London upon graduating: I always regret not giving job-hunting in Sheffield a month or two. 

Driving back from Exeter in May 2012, that same uncle suggested I shouldn’t try to run a 10k, that it would be too much for me: and, as some of you may know, that’s one piece of advice I ignored. Had I done so first time round I’d probably have been a season ticket holder for almost two decades by now! As it stands, I have to make do with a couple of games a season. And I don’t just miss The Blades: I miss the whole experience, each and every ritual. Which is why, whisper it quietly…

…I would never begrudge my sons becoming Bristol City supporters. Just like United is my hometown club, City is theirs. So, whilst part of me hopes they keep wearing their Blades kits for the rest of their lives, I won’t deny there’s a part of me that would be happy for them to develop their own matchday rituals with their own friends and to live them out at least once a fortnight. Is that sacrilege? At least the scarves would look right…

So, Valentine’s Day 2015… how was yours?

Mine began with a 5k personal best (where I overtook a Bristol City fan late on to set the tone for the day!), ended with a nice meal with friends and featured a surprising (well I was!) but wholeheartedly convincing win at Ashton Gate. Good football, made the League leaders look like some frustratingly inconsistent side: so yes, true role reversal. If for just one afternoon. As I told my wife, it was the best Valentine’s Day of my life. 

The Time To Judge is Later

So that's the regular league season over. A United View has been quiet for a while, it's been hard to know what to write and even harder finding the time to write it. Watching United in recent months has been one of the most frustrating things I have done in that time.

Like teaching a child to ride a bike without stabilisers, you encourage, you urge them on and they briefly succeed, with apparent ease, before crashing back to earth with a bump. Then it's as if they've forgotten what to do. You know they're capable, but they can't put all the different aspects together. Failure, another failure, then they manage a good start before a major wobble and they land with a bump.

The difference being that with a five year old you hide your frustrations. You keep consoling, keep smiling, keep encouraging. With your football team you vent. You rant in your seat, in the sanctity of the pub, on the radio, or on social media.

To be frank, this league season has been disappointing. There is no masking it. Whilst for many clubs 5th place and play-offs would be an acceptable achievement, for a club with United's resources, larger than any other club in the division, it is not good enough.

This isn't just arrogance or being dismissive of other clubs. It's about having seen what these players are capable of and not seeing them deliver it on a consistent basis. It's about seeing a team chopped and changed, yet consistently play without leadership, drive and urgency.

For a manager tasked with promotion it is now left to the fine margins of 270 minutes of football, maybe with another 60 minutes on top or a penalty shootout or two.

I could talk about squad size. I could write about comparisons with Bristol City. How the comments about the number of matches played don't fully stack up. I could question the number and extent of the club's injuries. I could pick apart the unbalanced squad and the manager's apparent inability to know his best eleven after 46 league games. But now is not the time. That post can come at the end of the month, hopefully with a theme of "in spite of all this....".

Nobody wants Nigel Clough to fail. By inference that would mean United have failed. I did not agree with recent calls for him to go. Those writing on Jim Phipps' Facebook wall and tweeting him demand change but if pushed would've struggled to suggest who should replace him. For me Clough has not failed until the season ends and promotion has not been achieved. Only when the final ball has been kicked, hopefully at Wembley can we say whether he has achieved his objective.

I really hope he proves me and the other doubters wrong, I really do. Just because we doubt, doesn't mean we don't support, don't shout, don't sing, don't encourage. Nothing stops that, but the cold hard facts of this season say we were the 5th best club in League 1. We have scored fewer goals than any of the team's around us. On average we have conceded at least a goal a game. Our run of form going into the play offs has been dire.

Previous play off heartache means nothing to this team, but it still burns hard into the collective memories of supporters. It can have no impact on the outcome, only in preparing fans' expectations. My concerns are only emanating from the recent past; the last 46 league games.

To cling to hope means to think of the great cup performances over the last 18 months and how the team have raised themselves. Three back to back results are required. Accepted they don't need to be 3 wins, but the last time we achieved that was February.

Thursday's team selection will be interesting as injured and rested players should return. Collins is once again available; the only fit centre back we have following his return from loan. The excellent ticket pricing should mean a decent crowd and a lot of noise; hopefully positive backing and a result to leave Swindon chasing the game at home.

Let's hope we can truly be saying Up the Blades in 3 weeks time.

Apathy Rules at Bramall Lane

As I said last year, after another Play-Off Final defeat, as a Blade you just have to carry on regardless. Regardless of the frustration. Regardless of the pain. Regardless of the knowledge that nine times out of ten it will end in an unmitigated disaster.  

 

But now some are not carrying on. Some have had enough. And can I blame them? Probably not.

 

The Play Off semi final first leg will probably see a relatively low crowd at Bramall Lane, despite the £15 tickets. People have had enough. Had enough of a well rewarded team showing little desire, had enough of performances without shape or structure and of a board who stumble along from one ill-thought out decision to another, without a long term plan and with little autonomy for the men supposedly in charge day to day.

 

Hard though it may be to recognise; there are elements of our season to commend. Defensively we have been consistently strong. A team doesn't keep 21 clean sheets by chance and a great deal of credit should be given to a back four and goalkeeper, who have performed at a level that belies the lack of experience some of them have.

 

But those clean sheets have come at a price. Some of the performances witnessed this season can best be described as turgid. We lost just nine games all season, equalling Brentford with the fewest defeats in the division. Our problem was draws, all eighteen of them. There’s been seven 0-0 draws, all bar one at Bramall Lane, with four in the last seven home games demonstrates a side shorn of creativity, movement and that special something that can unlock a resolute visiting side.

 

Charlton went up last season as champions, without really standing out as a thrilling or exciting team to watch. Efficiently going about their business, taking wins by the odd goal, many Blades clung to the hope that we were going to replicate that this season. It was not to be.

 

Criticism has been building all season, with initial murmurings dismissed by local media who said we were ridiculous for not focusing on results and league position. The initial symptoms of failing to react to second balls, a lack of natural width, pace and cutting edge were clear to anyone watching the Blades week after week. The failure to properly address any of these areas left the team pedestrian, lumbering and disjointed as the season petered out.

 

Hopes of automatic promotion, lost to an ageing and slow squad, with injuries and player sales leaving it weaker than it was before. Broken promises of adequate replacements, a manager working without free reign and with severe limitations on what he can do to change things. Yet the option for youth was ignored for so long, it is asking a lot for them to come in and have the positive impact required right now.

 

Why should people bother if the rest of the club show such a lack of ambition? There is no such thing as blind loyalty. Everyone has their limits. For some, it is when the owner and his acolytes are trapped in a downward spiral of risky and hurried decisions, the like of which they wouldn't engage in in their day to day business. The sacking of Danny Wilson has realistically left us no better off than we would have been if we had kept him. The initial burst of positivity and intent demonstrated in Chris Morgan's first game in charge against Swindon Town was quickly extinguished and there is no discernible improvement.

 

Even the stoically positive away supporters have recognised that a day on the ale and 90 minutes of positive support, cannot hide our players' failings, nor lift them to a level of performance that is anywhere near adequate. When the away supporters turn, when they have had enough, then you know there are fundamental issues.

 

I will accept that clubs have players that aren't good enough, that can't do the things you would like them to do, but what I can't accept is a lack of effort, application or will to win. Many would deny that our players have demonstrated that, that it is not in their make-up, they aren't that kind of player. I am sorry, but performances at times this season have suggested otherwise. Maybe their fear and timidity could be misconstrued for a lack of application, either way it is unacceptable; especially when it is the more experienced professionals who seem unable to cope.

 

At the start of the season, when asked for my predicted League table for When Saturday Comes magazine, I tipped the Blades to finish 8th, a view clearly not shared by the representative fans of other League 1 clubs who, based on average predicted positions, had the Blades as champions.

 

On that basis, I should be happy with 5th place but for me this represents a real missed opportunity. My prediction was at a time when the make-up of the squad and that of other clubs was still uncertain. Expectations fluctuate over the course of the season; once you have seen other teams, once you see where the league table pans out. The thing is I genuinely saw little else of any quality in League One this season. Crewe and Brentford were the teams that impressed me the most, whilst Doncaster were efficient, but not exciting, and Bournemouth were beaten twice.

 

Wage bills don't necessarily translate to on pitch success, I accept that. But the United players, who are probably paid a combined amount near double that of most of the competing teams and many of whom are experienced and well paid professionals, need to take a long hard look at themselves and consider whether 5th place was truly acceptable. To hear our Captain Michael Doyle speak in recent weeks, it seems it was. How disappointing.

 

An acceptance of 5^th place is as spineless as some of those end of season performances, when there wasn’t even the will to maximise our league position for home second leg advantage, nor to enter the play offs with a positive frame of mind enveloping the club.

 

Instead we have an attitude where many can’t even be bothered leaving the pub or their settee on Friday night and I can understand the ambivalence of my fellow Blades. I am going on Friday and I cannot see where United's goals will come from. I cannot see us keeping another clean sheet. I don't expect us to get to Wembley. I have renewed my season ticket, expecting League One football. I have seen little to persuade me otherwise.

 

Yes, there must be a first time for the play offs are kind to us. Then again, can we get through three games with three clean sheets and a goal again, for the second year running? I doubt it. Mind you, if we did that it would come to penalties again and oh how the Football Gods would be laughing!