Balls of Steel

I don't like Derby days. There I've said it. In fact I've said it before. Here's a link back to a piece I wrote 7 years ago. My view hasn't changed since and I doubt it ever will.

But this Derby Day is different. Well, maybe not that much different to the home fixture against Wednesday last season, but different from the norm that we have become accustomed to in my lifetime. We are no longer the underdog and, to be frank, I don't like it. 

It's been rare in my lifetime that United have been favourites going into a Derby match. Even last season, when we were above Wednesday going into the fixture at Hillsborough, we were still dismissed as cannon fodder by the S6 support. "The bubble will burst", they told us. "You are not good enough", they told us. "We are older, bigger, better", not that it helps much on the pitch. They underestimated the Dog & Duck, both in terms of quality of football and the unity of the team. 

Whatever they might say about 4-2 not being a massacre, the home side in a Derby fixture had not conceded 4 goals for the best part of a century. You would need to go back to the Wartime League in 1917 and 1918 when the Blades conceded 4 and 5 at home to Wednesday. 

Suddenly, the claims were about missing players, injuries, ignoring the fact that just one of their team cost as much as our entire eleven. However much they doth protest, it hurt.......a lot. So much so that come the return fixture at Bramall Lane a 0-0 draw was celebrated like a cup final triumph in the away end. They told us how disappointed we should feel, yet for me not losing in a Derby is a victory in itself. We ended the season having taken four points off Wednesday, who wouldn't be delighted with that? And if the boot were on the other foot, I doubt you would find many Wednesdayites who would disagree. 

Fourteen months on from that game at Hillsborough, the stakes are the same but the feeling is so different. A quick look at the Roy's Views website, which picks off the highlights and opinions posted on the opposition's internet forums, show us a very different mood across town. One where the psychological games how much greater. A snapshot of their views are below.

"Anything less than 4 will be like a lottery win. Poor Blades they’re in an awkward position lol”

“All the pressure is on United. Expected to lose by 3 or 4 goals on Friday. “

"If they don’t win by at 5 clear goals they’ll be bitterly disappointed."

"Win – win for us. They should win handsomely. Anything less would be a disappointment for them."

Whilst the facts are 3rd versus 17th, an opposition that have shipped 12 goals in 3 games and a fan base that is demanding the manager's removal and the reinstatement of key players. The facts also show a Blades side that I've taken 4 points from the last 12 and despite plenty of good football and strong possession stats, don't always make it count.

It is a cliche, but it has so often been the case; the form book does go out of the window. Just look at the two matches last season. Wednesday were expected to win at Hillsborough and we were expected to win at Bramall Lane. Neither happened. Going back to 1991-92, we had won two top flight games Wednesday were firm favourites when they visited the Lane and remained so when United visited Hillsborough. It meant nothing in either game.

I then read a tweet from fellow Blade, Darren Smith;

"If we don't win this by at least three it will be one of the most disappointing results in our recent history. Opportunities like this don't come along very often. We are playing decent stuff they are in disarray"

On first read I winced. I didn't like it. I could never be that bolshy about our chances. How can you be disappointed by a win? When challenged in a subsequent tweet, Darren admitted he could have chosen a better word than disappointed and I think that is right, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood the point he was trying to make. 

We are playing a team that will sit deep and try and contain, as they did at the Lane back in January. For them, it will be all about defend and hit us on the break. That night we failed to find that incisive move to deliver a goal. Find that on Friday (and relatively early in the game) and they have to come out. Weaknesses exposed, we could really go for the jugular and a result that puts to bed the day after Christmas thirty nine years ago. 

It could happen, but then again plenty of things could happen. I am just not going there expecting it. I doubt any Blades would make such rash predictions. A one goal win, with the ball rebounding of Billy's backside will do me fine I would even take a point and we move on to a less intense, but probably more testing game away at Rotherham. 

If you want me between 7:30 and 9:45 on Friday night, you will find me hunched in my seat in the middle of the Kop. Muscles wound tighter than a watch spring. Tenser than Joey Essex entered in a Spelling Bee. Twitching like the Pitsmoor Owl whenever a blue light passes his living room window. I can't say I will enjoy it, you would need balls of steel to sit/stand there and enjoy it all. Actually.....you know there is one scenario that would enable me to properly enjoy it, well some of it, at least whatever time is left after the fourth goes in. 18-1 with SkyBet, just saying.

The Sheffield Derby - All about not losing

I don't like Derby Days. There, I have said it. A massive game, the biggest crowd of the season, a raucous, sometimes volatile atmosphere and I don't enjoy it one little bit.

For me Sheffield United v "the team from S6"  turns me into an anti-football fan. Derby Day for me is not necessarily all about winning, although clearly that is what I really want. The important thing for me is not losing. As long as "they" don't have the upper hand, the bragging rights, I don't care. The imperative following the match, is to focus on finishing above them in the league table.

Don't get me wrong, Sheffield Derby days are special occasions, something perhaps never properly recognised by the national media; although Sky Sports seem to be building the hype this time. Maybe as much to do with the scoreline and ebb and flow of the game at Hillsborough earlier this season as the occasion itself. The intensity of noise and the atmosphere generated within Bramall Lane (or even dare I admit, the other place)  could easily be compared with the other derby matches traditionally viewed as the standard bearers; Merseyside, Manchester, Glasgow. In fact the intensity is probably up a notch from Manchester and Merseyside.

The build-up leaves you twitchy, distracted, running over scenarios in your head, imagining the joy of victory, fearing the heartache of defeat. You look forward with a mix of trepidation and excitement that leaves you nauseous. You cling to the clips of past successes, reliving the joy and the moment, thinking back to wherever you were watching from at the time. The people you hugged the life out of, the people you fell over, the smell of the beer that went flying through the air and soaked into your top. You hope that recent success and league position count for something, but then the gnawing doubt kicks in and you remember that this is more of a cup game and it is all up for grabs on the night.

You admire how a fellow fan and now manager has channelled that adrenaline, that excitement, into something positive with your team. You hope that they respond in the same way again and thrive in a more positive, but no less hostile atmosphere at home. With these special occasions being of such rarefied intensity, just what is my problem?

My negative feelings arise for three reasons. My formative football watching years saw "them" generally have the upper hand in terms of league standing. I grew up in an era where United and "the other lot" were in different divisions, derby games were reserved for a pre-season friendly, the County Cup, a testimonial match or a Zenith Data Systems Cup game. Rarely did we win, or so it felt.

Most of my friends were not United fans, they knew how to gloat, they knew how to belittle. Even then delusions of grandeur were visible; the first signs of the self-belief that have led to the proclamations of how massive they are today. But bigger, older, better can just as easily be read as bloated, decrepit and under-performing. In those days I didn't want to play "them", I just wanted "them" to fail. I wanted them to swap divisions with us. To fall away into a long decline.

The second reason comes from an earlier stages of my life and my first real Sheffield Derby memory. I was 4, but I wasn't at a match. United, ahead in the Division 3 table, lost 4-0 at the other place on Boxing Day 1979. I remember the anguish of my father and grandfather as they arrived home to continue a family Christmas marred by events on the football pitch. All that frustration was kept for posterity on an audio cassette by my mum. The click of play/and record as the front door clicks open and then bangs to. My running footsteps out of the lounge into the hallway; "4-0 Grandad!" I say in surprise and slight indignation. "I know….they were rubbish…." he mutters forlornly. Voices then tail off as both my father and grandfather head into the kitchen to vent their frustrations, out of view and out of earshot of the children.

By the time we looked to gain revenge at Bramall Lane in April, we had fallen away from the top end of the table, whilst they were heading for an inevitable promotion. A 1-1 draw was played out, remembered more for Terry Curran's goal for them, rather than anything the Blades achieved. I think I was there, I can't say I remember. As a 5 year old, the games I attended blurred into one a little, even those with 42,000 in the ground.

These initial memories of Sheffield Derby games can scar a young child; seeing the effect it had on my Grandad, a man not afraid to let his passions and his hurt show where football was concerned. Defeats like Boxing Day were taken like a personal affront to his support. The subsequent relegation to the Fourth Division was something he never really got over, he passed away a week or so after that game against Walsall.

The next time we were to play a league derby was some 11 years later. For one season prior we had swapped divisions, but they had come straight back up to the top division. As a 16 year old I understood more about football then. I was passionate about football then.  That first league derby in 11 years was, thanks to police advice, played on a misty November Sunday at Bramall Lane. The other lot were flying on their return to the top flight and expecting a comfortable win.

I remember the early tension vividly and then the outpouring of sheer joy of watching young Blades midfielder Dane Whitehouse breaking forward, bearing down on goal and slotting home the first goal. Then in the second half, Brian Deane squeezed the ball between Chris Woods' legs to send Blades fans into ecstasy and leave Woods facing months of mocking for his bow-legged keeping.  His situation not helped by United winning the return match across the city 3-1, although he was less culpable that night.

Much happier times indeed, although I think I enjoyed post-match celebrations as much as the day itself.  In the time since we have enjoyed what feels like a slight upper hand in Steel City encounters. Despite that, I cannot say I have enjoyed the matches per se.

Even being 3-0 up at half time, as it was in 2009 at Bramall Lane, you can never sit comfortably and enjoy the rest of the game. On that occasion the Blades were pegged back to 3-2 and clung on. I was the sole football fan in a Greek hotel bar that night, a long standing fortnight of family holiday coinciding with just one home game being played when the fixtures were announced. Yet those who joined me found it hard to sit with a man who was on holiday to relax and have fun, yet appeared to be displaying all the signs of a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown until he exploded in hysteria at the final whistle.

That really highlights my  final reason; that even when you are in front, the 90 minutes are defined by a feeling that can only be described as someone grasping hold of your guts and twisting them into a tight ball. You stand there, in a pose resembling Edvard Munch's The Scream. Your legs shake violently, banging against the people in the adjacent seats. You lean forward, twitching, before launching out of your seat to roar out your support for your team or hurl spittle laden invective at the opposition players and the their fans, amongst whom are many of your friends.

By the end, if you have won, something Blades fans have experienced more than Owls over the years, you celebrate. Well you try to. Hoarse from exhortations, legs drained of nervous energy you try to jump up and down and shout, but it doesn't quite happen. No matter what it looks and sounds like, it is the fact you are attempting to do it that matters.

I don't really enjoy experiencing such extreme behaviour and emotion. Not because of being a killjoy, not because I have a lack of passion, nor from any attempt to keep up appearances, but from seeing the effect of letting a game consume you and your health as it did my Grandad. Not letting things go, letting results rule your moods and your life.

We have been fortunate that for most of the last 20 years we have been above our city rivals; for 12 years we held the upper hand in terms of final league position until that switch 5 years ago. Despite all the incredible highs and gut wrenching lows of these matches, I am much happier to define our success over Wednesday based on the league tables. Give me a season where we are sat in a division above Wednesday, rather than playing them twice a season.

But if we have to play them, as long as we don't lose that is all that matters….and then let's set about ensuring we finish above them in the league, wherever that takes us this season. 

Up the Blades!

Interview with Jamie Hoyland - Part 2 (Roy of the Rovers Stuff)

At the end of Part 1 Jamie was putting pen to paper for United, despite strong interest and more lucrative offers from Wolves.

Celebrating with fellow Unitedite Carl Bradshaw after beating Wednesday 2-0 (1991) (Sheffield Newspapers)

I think you were, briefly, United's record signing. Did the fee, alongside playing for your boyhood club, put additional pressure on you?

Yes a bit and obviously it was a big step up standard wise as well. I'd come from the 3rd Division with Bury and I was playing alongside and against some very good players in Division 1. I was not a confident player, so I was always a little bit in awe. It was a case of, I'm here now, I need to establish myself alongside a team of players who had already done it. You know, all those big shot cockneys….ha ha. It took me a bit of time to settle in.

You never seemed to get a decent run of games in the team. Was that a source of frustration and how difficult was it to deal with?

Yes it was frustrating and injuries played a part. In my first pre-season we played Wednesday in a friendly.  I tackled Carlton Palmer and I got a whack on my shin. I thought, 'Bloody hell that hurt'. Anyway, we are playing our first league game at home to Liverpool the week after. Liverpool in the first league game for your home town club and Harry told me I was playing. What Harry didn't know was that my shin was going yellow, green everything and it was killing me. I just thought, 'I've got to play, I want to play'.

I played in that match and what a game it was. Huge crowd, hot, sunny day, great occasion, then Trace (United keeper Simon Tracey) fractured his cheekbone making a save and Pembo (John Pemberton) had to go in goal.  (Ian - United lost 3-1, many Blades fans blamed Ian Rush's challenge for injuring Tracey). I had the drugs test afterwards and I am stood having a widdle next to John Barnes and Ian Rush! It was surreal, I had been playing for Bury a few months previous at Newport County and Aldershot.

The Tuesday following the Liverpool game, we played Derby County at the Baseball Ground and my shin was getting worse and worse, but I was picked again to play. I lasted about 60 minutes, came off and they took me into the medical room and their doctor looked at it. I was rushed into hospital on the day after as it had turned into an abscess on my shin. When they operated they told me I could have lost my leg as it could have gone poisonous. I just so wanted to play that the pain didn't matter at the time, but looking back I think bloody hell how stupid was I? But with hindsight you think, no as it meant I made my debut against Liverpool.

Much is made of the team spirit under Harry. What are your abiding memories?

Harry used to take us down to army camp pre-season, so we turned up at Bramall Lane on the Sunday and travelled down to Arbourfield, near Reading. I had come from Manchester City and Bury, where it was very strict pre-season, no drinking, nothing. Anyway, we got to the camp and did the bleep test at night and then, I remember it clearly as I still talk to Ian Bryson about it, we sat in our dorms and all the lads are having a  shower, putting their aftershave on and getting all their gear on. I said to Jocky (Bryson) "What's happening?" and he said, "We are going out, Harry doesn't mind. As long as we are back and ready to train and work hard in the morning he doesn't give a monkeys." That epitomises everything about the place at that time. And nobody missed training. Everybody gave 100% when they had to, but everyone "played" 100% when they could do!

You scored your first league goal in a Blades shirt at Bramall Lane v Everton, do you remember much about it. Can you describe the feeling?

I am sure it was a left footer, half volley past Neville Southall. It wasn't a bad un. It was the Kop end and it is a boyhood dream fulfilled. You have stood on that terrace as a kid, been ball boy at that end and to score at that end was storybook, Roy of the Rovers stuff. A cliché maybe, but it is so true.

One of your favourite moments must have been the goal in the FA Cup victory over Manchester United at the Lane. You got in the right place, but when it came back at you off Schmeichel did you know much about it? What are your over-riding memories of the day?

When Giggs scored after 15 minutes we thought, Oh bloody hell this could be an embarrassment on telly and then we got to grips with it. Then came the goal. Glyn Hodges swung in the free kick and I should have scored when I threw myself towards it, leg outstretched in the box, but I just saw this massive Dane coming towards me! It came back off him and hit me as my momentum took me towards goal and……well yes, it hit my arm. My son slaughters me for it and I just say, "Well, I've scored against Manchester United, in front of 30,000 fans and it was on the telly."

That season saw a great cup run, culminating in the Steel City FA Cup semi-final at Wembley. You were in the starting eleven for the run of matches up to two games before Wembley, was it an injury that kept you out?

No, it was just Harry being Harry. He broke Carl Bradshaw's heart that day. I remember when he named the team, we were training at a non-league ground close to Wembley. He had named me and Adie Littlejohn as subs and Brads wasn't even in the 13. Brads grabbed his boots and chucked them in someone's garden. He was absolutely distraught. It hurt me to be on the bench. I had played in all of the cup run from the Burnley replay and then to be left out was absolutely devastating.

Was it a day of mixed emotions for you? Gutted to be on the bench, delighted to get on the pitch, gutted with the result?

Well in the end I got on for the last half hour and if it hadn't have been for Alan Kelly, the brother in law, I wouldn’t have even managed that. It was a one man show that kept us in the game.

My main abiding memory of the day is Mel Rees…..even saying his name and thinking about the day now sends a tingle of emotion through me. The FA wouldn't let him lead us out, which rankled with us all, but I am glad they didn't really because his walk around the stadium pre-match was brilliant and epitomised what Sheffield people are about. The reception from all fans was amazing and he hadn't played that much for United, but it was an amazing reception. He knew then, that was his day and it wasn't long after that he died.

On a lighter note another memory is Corky shaving his beard off in the bath afterwards. He had pledged to grow his beard until the cup run was finished and when we drew Man U in the 5th round I remember him saying,  "thank **** for that, I can get rid of my beard now we are going out!". It was a bizarre sight when he scored at Wembley, looking like Old Father Time.

How can you describe playing in a Sheffield Derby being a fan as well as a player?

I remember the first game as a player, 1991 at Bramall Lane and the first league Sheffield Derby in 11 years, first top flight derby in 21 years. Harry had got us revved up and we had heard rumours about them talking bets on how many goals up they were going to be after 20 minutes and how Shez (John Sheridan) was going to run the show.

(IR - The only thing Sheridan ran that day was into Paul Warhurst, leaving them in a heap on the floor and allowing Dane Whitehouse to break away and score United's first)

There were three Sheffield lads in our team that day and for a Sheffield lad to walk out at Bramall Lane with the noise was just…..I remember seeing Roland Nilsson, the right back for them, and he was like a rabbit in the headlights, just stunned. Whereas we were like, "Come on, I can't wait for this". First tackle goes in and it's Carlton Palmer, a melee ensues and suddenly there were ten United shirts immediately around; ready and at 'em and grabbing people. Yeah it's probably not right, but that is how much we were a team and wanted it.

Everything went right that day and I still have a picture that was taken as I came off at the final whistle, with the scoreboard behind me saying United 2 Owls 0. I keep it with my shirt.

Afterwards we all went to The Big Tree at Woodseats. Now it would be all over the tabloids, but we partied, I remember players dancing on pool tables, holding a Rottweiler with a Sheffield United scarf on! Then it started again, the day after you got the Star pull-out and you can’t wait to read it. Unbelievable times, for a week we partied and celebrated like we had won the World Cup. We had to go to Tottenham on the Saturday, yet we still beat them 1-0!

Playing in a Sheffield Derby is an unbelievable feeling, you are on the field and it’s as if you can touch the atmosphere. Everything is 100 mph, but you’re in a bubble.  The crowd’s there and the noise just seals you in. I wish I was there on the pitch today.

The emotion of a Sheffield Derby - celebrating Dane Whitehouse's goal in the 2-0 win in 1991 (Sheffield Newspapers)

In the 1993/94 season you had a spell on loan at Bristol City, was that due to injuries or form? Did you think you were likely to leave?

We lost 3-1 at Hillsborough in the Derby match and Harry blamed me. We were going away to Dubai the week after and he left me out of that. I went to see him and he gave me a bit of stick and I thought, “Aye aye! The writing’s on the wall here.” Bristol City came in and I thought that I had to get out, get away from Harry for a bit and clear my head. I was never going to go there permanently, I just needed to go and try and prove him wrong so I would stay at United.

Jamie was to remain at Bramall Lane for a little while longer. In the final part; leaving United, life with the Clarets at Turf Moor, Scarborough days, coaching and Jamie's big challenge to raise money for Gary Parkinson.

Memory Match - The Last Third Tier Sheffield Derby

It is over 31 years since the last third tier Sheffield Derby and I thought it would be interesting to see what was happening in Sheffield football then, by leafing through the match programme of Saturday 5th April 1980.

By way of background, both clubs found themselves in the top 6 of the Third Division, Wednesday having spent the previous 6 years in the division were in 2nd, whilst the Blades over a similar period had fallen from missing out on European football on goal average in 1975 to 6th in the Third Division.

The Blades had held league supremacy over Wednesday that season until the infamous first encounter of the season at Hillsborough on Boxing Day 1979. My interview with former Owls captain Mike Pickering will tell you more about it.

The first thing you notice is the kick off time. A 3pm kick off on a Saturday is virtually unheard of  for match of this stature these days. This season the game has been moved to Sunday kicking off at 12, with police drafted in from surrounding areas. Yet in 1980, was the situation any worse? There were also 12,000 more fans in attendance than there will be on Sunday.

Your 25 pence brought you little in the way of content, although the back page advert for GT Cars (Kick off with Renault, Score with GT Cars) was certainly an eye opener with a  Lynda Carter (Wonder Woman) look-alike hoisting a ball above her head leaning against a sun-roofed Renault.

"Happy" Harry Haslam, not the most popular Blades manager ever and one who bailed out and left Martin Peters to take us down into Division 4, will have done little to endear himself to Blades fans with his programme notes. On the one hand he says how he refuses to make excuses, but then admits to complaining about injuries each week. To be fair using 26 different players wouldn't have helped the team's cause.

Haslam then goes on to preview the 101st Sheffield Derby by congratulating the opposition on their league position, saying how exceptionally well they had performed and that he would take nothing away from them. His next words would find little agreement amongst Blades fans;

"We are pleased when our neighbours do well. Good Luck to them. Jack has had bad times and now he is having the good. They have done well. We recognise some-one (sic) who is going well."

Thankfully he is back on track by the end of his column, reminding readers of the Blades' overall supremacy having won 39 of the games to date, against 31 for Wednesday. A scoreline that would be unchanged at 4:45 that afternoon.

The introduction to the visitors highlights the fact that they had lost just once in the last 3 months and in that time had been freely scoring goals. The Star Visitor picked out is a man who unsuccessfully bridged the Sheffield divide. Terry Curran was an attacking midfielder who had scored one of his twenty goals to date on Boxing Day against the Blades. Super -Pig as he became known was never going to be a popular signing when Ian Porterfield signed him for the Blades 3 years later. Needless to say he never won over the fans and his record at Bramall Lane barely stands up to scrutiny.

A column called - They Give the Game Colour featured Derek Dooley and very little colour. Only black and white pictures were used! Highlighting the transition he had made from Wednesday striking star (until a tackle and subsequent leg amputation ended his career), to Wednesday manager (until his sacking on Christmas Eve 1973) to, at the time, Commercial Manager at Bramall Lane. He was to become a key figure at Bramall Lane, taking on the role of chairman and successfully providing a calm head amongst boardroom shenanigans, whilst also providing a listening post for several Blades managers including Dave Bassett and Neil Warnock in particular.

One of the most interesting articles is abruptly cut off, but relates the memories of a Blades fan (Tom Hogg) then in his eighties, who has vivid memories of United and the famous football players around the turn of the century. These include seeing the players around his local shops, the barbers in particular, and of Bill "Fatty" Foulkes ironically telling him he was fat. He remembers watching Billy Meredith play - "the greatest dribbler he ever saw" and Alex James - although Blades half-back Eddie Boot kept him out of the game that day. He refers to the Leeds City scandal and Barnsley winning the 1912 FA Cup final at Bramall Lane.

Probably the best story relates to his father's dislike of football. His hatred running so deep that he even discouraged a young Tom from going to United games. In fact the only time his father joined him at Bramall Lane  was "to see the new fangled electric light".

Later in the programme is a very formal "notice" of the intention to sell tickets for the European U21 Championship Semi Final at Bramall Lane later that month. The opponents were yet to be decided but it would be either the German Democratic Republic or Hungary. Ticket prices ranged from £1.80 on the John Street Terrace to £.30 for seats in the South Stand. Bramall Lane was a very popular venue for showpiece U21 internationals and would go on to host a leg of the final in 1982  and 1984.

Following a fact based article on Sheffield Derbies by local journalist and  biographer of Sheffield football Keith Farnsworth, the "Kids Corner" quiz page cannot help but have a little dig at the opposition; reminding them of their last near miss on the big occasion. The Hat Trick question lists Jim McCalliog and Alex Young as opposing Cup Final centre forwards. The hat-trick is scored by naming the teams, the year, the result. I am sure you will fill in the gaps.

One question I will leave for you to answer in the comments section below:

Solve the clue to name club and ground (omitting the word 'Ground' or 'Park' etc)

SOUNDS LIKE PIRATES' TERRITORY (5)

Opposite the quiz page, in amongst more adverts there is the guide to the old lettered scoreboard that sat at the bottom of the Bramall Lane terrace. Red Indicator games being the other games in the Third Division along with the Blades Reserve game against Manchester City. Amongst the top division games listed on the yellow indicator there was another big rivalry being played out across the pennines - Match F - Manchester United v Liverpool.

The inside back cover contained the traditional fixture list, match by match line ups and statistics. Showing that in amongst the 26 players fielded by United were 4 goalkeepers. Not a recipe for success. The league tables show Grimsby leading the table with 51 points, a win (2 points) ahead of Wednesday, with Blackburn a further 2 points behind and one ahead of Chesterfield who were to visit Bramall Lane a week later.

The reserve league (Central League) table made even grimmer reading for Unitedites, with the Blades firmly rooted to the bottom of the table on 18 points, just 5 wins and 8 draws all season. A result of the injury crisis and paucity of players available.

So what of the game? 42,000 fans, generating then record match receipts of £65,092, and the Match of the Day cameras were there to see to see the clubs play out a 1-1 draw. You can see the footage on youtube here. Much is still made of Terry Curran's goal for Wednesday his arcing run from the corner flag seeing off several Blades defenders and equalising Blades captain John MacPhail's opener. The much maligned Blades keeper Terry Poole (one of three replacements tried out when Steve Conroy broke his arm) gained plaudits for his performance that day. A rare moment of praise in his limited Bramall Lane career.

Of the Blades team listed in the programme seven actually started the game and not even the genius of Alex Sabella could spark the Blades to victory. An example of a great footballer who cannot influence a game due to the lack of ability and vision of the players around him. Only three other players in the starting XI could be said to have gone on to have a reasonably successful time at United; John MacPhail, Paul Garner and Tony Kenworthy. Pedro Verde, listed in the programme but didn't play, is better known as Juan Sebastian Veron's uncle and the reason why Veron reportedly said that the Blades were his favourite English club. His uncle clearly portraying his time at United more positively than most Blades fans would remember it.

Wednesday eventually finished 3rd, gaining promotion by just a point from Chesterfield. United fell away to finish 12th. United went on to beat Wednesday 1-0 in the County Cup in May of that year, but as much as a win over Wednesday was to be celebrated - it was a league win that was required to avenge the Boxing Day defeat. With the clubs moving in opposite directions and remaining divisions apart for the following decade it was 1991/92 before the Blades had the chance for league revenge. It was worth the wait as it came in the form of a Sheffield Double. Much happier days.

@coops1889 remembers the 1991/92 games here. 

Tell you why I don't like Derby Day

I don't like Derby Days. There, I have said it. A massive game, the biggest crowd of the season, a raucous, sometimes volatile atmosphere and I don't enjoy it one little bit.

For me Sheffield United v "the team from S6"  turns me into an anti-football fan. Derby Day for me is not necessarily all about winning, although clearly that is what I really want. The important thing for me is not losing. As long as "they" don't have the upper hand, the bragging rights, I don't care. The next job, following any Derby match, is to focus on finishing above them in the league table.

Don't get me wrong, Sheffield Derby days are special occasions, something perhaps never properly recognised by the national media. The intensity of noise and the atmosphere generated within Bramall Lane (or even dare I admit, the other place)  could easily be compared with the other derby matches traditionally viewed as the standard bearers; Merseyside, Manchester, Glasgow. I just do not find it as exciting as a supporter of one of the clubs. With such special occasions of such rarefied intensity, just what is my problem?

My negative feelings arise for three reasons. My formative football watching years saw "them" generally have the upper hand in terms of league standing. I grew up in an era where United and "the other lot" were in different divisions, derby games were reserved for a pre-season friendly, the County Cup, a testimonial match or a Zenith Data Systems Cup game. Rarely did we win, or so it felt.

Most of my friends were not United fans, they knew how to gloat, they new how to belittle. Even then delusions of grandeur were visible; the first signs of the self belief that have led to the proclamations of how massive they are today. Claims that filter every level of the club, right through to the manager and his comparisons of relative stature. One week they are like the Barcelona of League One, the following Manchester United, the next Real Madrid. I didn't want to play "them", I just wanted them to fail. I wanted them to swap divisions with us. To fall away into a long decline.

The second reason comes from an earlier stages of my life and my first real Sheffield Derby memory. I was 4, but I wasn't at a match. United, ahead of that team from across the city in the Division 3 table, lost 4-0 at the other place on Boxing Day 1979. I remember the anguish of my father and grandfather as they arrived home to continue a family Christmas marred by events on the football pitch.

All that frustration was kept for posterity on an audio cassette by my mum. The click of play/and record as the front door clicks open and then bangs to. My running footsteps out of the lounge into the hallway; "4-0 Grandad!" I say in surprise and slight indignation. "I know….they were rubbish…." he mutters forlornly. Voices then tail off as both my father and grandfather head into the kitchen to vent their frustrations, out of view and out of earshot of the children.

By the time we looked to gain revenge at Bramall Lane in April, we had fallen away from the top end of the table, whilst they were heading for an inevitable promotion. A 1-1 draw was played out, remembered more for Terry Curran's goal for them, rather than anything the Blades achieved. I think I was there, I can't say I remember. As a 5 year old, the games I attended blurred into one a little, even those with 42,000 in the ground.

These initial memories of Sheffield derby games can scar a young child. Seeing the effect it had on my Grandad, a man not afraid to let his passions and his hurt show where football was concerned. Defeats like Boxing Day were taken like a personal affront to his support. The subsequent relegation to the Fourth Division was something he never really got over, he passed away a week or so after.

The next time we were to play a league derby was some 11 years later. For one season prior we had swapped divisions, but they had come straight back up to the top division. As a 16 year old I understood more about football then. I was passionate about football then.  That first league derby in 11 years was, thanks to police advice, played on a misty November Sunday at Bramall Lane. The other lot were flying on their return to the top flight and expecting a comfortable win.

I remember the early tension vividly and then the outpouring of sheer joy of watching young Blades midfielder Dane Whitehouse breaking forward, bearing down on goal and slotting home the first goal. Then in the second half, Brian Deane squeezed the ball between Chris Woods' legs to send Blades fans into ecstasy and leave Woods facing months of mocking for his bow-legged keeping.  His situation not helped by United winning the return match across the city 3-1, although he was less culpable that night.

Much happier times indeed, although I think I enjoyed post match celebrations as much as the day itself.  In the time since we have enjoyed what feels like a slight upper hand in Steel City encounters. Despite that, I cannot say I have enjoyed the matches per se.

Even at 3-0 at half time, as it was two season ago at Bramall Lane, you can never sit comfortably and enjoy the rest of the game. On that occasion the Blades were pegged back to 3-2 and clung on. I was the sole football fan in a  Greek hotel bar that night, a long standing fortnight of family holiday coinciding with just one home game being played when the fixtures being announced. Yet those who joined me found it hard to sit with a man who was on holiday to relax, yet appeared to be displaying all the signs of a nervous breakdown until he exploded in hysteria at the final whistle.

That really highlights my  final reason; that even when you are in front, the 90 minutes are defined by a feeling that can only be described as someone grasping hold of your guts and twisting them into a contorted shape. Rather like a children's party entertainer transforming his balloons into something you only know is a dog when he makes barking noises at the watching children. Your legs shake violently, banging against the people in the adjacent seats. You lean forward, twitching, before launching out of your seat to roar out your support for your team or hurl spittle laden invective at the opposition players and the their fans, amongst whom are many of your friends.

By the end, if you have won, something Blades fans have experienced more than Owls over the years I hasten to add, you celebrate. Well you try to. Hoarse from exhortations, legs drained of nervous energy you try to jump up and down and shout, but it doesn't quite happen. No matter what it looks and sounds like, it is the fact you are attempting to do it that matters.

I don't really enjoy experiencing such extreme behaviour and emotion. Not because of wanting to appear sensible, not because I have a lack of passion nor from any attempt to keep up professional appearances, but from seeing the effect of letting a game consume you and your health as it did my Grandad. Not letting things go, letting results rule your moods and your life.

We have been fortunate that many of the recent seasons have seen us above Wednesday; it is 12 years since they held the upper hand in terms of final league position. Despite all the incredible highs and gut wrenching lows of these matches, I am much happier to define our success over Wednesday based on the league tables. Give me a season where we are sat in a division above Wednesday, rather than playing them twice a season.

But if we have to play them, please let us not lose….and then let's set about overtaking them in the league. Thank you.

I have written the United part of a Steel City Derby Preview for football league site theseventytwo, you can read it here.