Sheffield United Away

Dean Holden has been appointed as Walsall coach. Fresh from spell at Oldham but previously signed as a defender at Walsall. Maybe we need his enthusiasm, different pair of eyes and defensive knowledge. This is going to be a run-in and a half. Burton Albion slipping up and their results bring them closer to us – just the matter of a couple of games in hand to deal with. Oh and three consecutive away games: Sheffield United, Oldham and Gillingham to be precise!

We have also signed a twenty one year old defender, Matthew Pennington on loan from Everton. I am not sure whether this was some kind of knee-jerk reaction to the injury to James O’Connor. But we also have the impressive Matt Preston available; but some depth in numbers – as long as it is quality – may be what we need. A young gun, ready to fill his boots, make his name and add his weight to the race-for-the-line.

Speaking of which the Oxford v. Cambridge Boat race was last weekend. The newly-added women’s race was astounding: the Oxford boat seeming to lose its way, while the Cambridge boat, already behind, followed the “racing line” and shipped so much water the pumps failed to work and the top of the sides of the boat were, literally level with the surface of the Thames! Credit to them that they managed to dig and finish. Credit to the Oxford cox for steering their boat into calmer (and winning) waters.

In the international break our very own Tom Bradshaw finally played for the Wales full team; coming on for twenty minutes as sub.

And a campaign to raise awareness of prostate cancer has TV Sky presenter Jeff Stelling doing a walk from Hartlepool to Wembley. He was joined on his midlands stretch by officials from local clubs, including the Saddlers. The campaign is called Men United.

So, following ‘phone calls I volunteer to do the driving to Sheffield United’s Bramall Lane home. The weather forecast is for showers to have passed and sunshine to be flooding in – and I grab the tickets from the box office beforehand. There’s a Transit Rail white van with Wolves supporters and Baggies fans involved in some banter outside the window there, but all cheerful enough.

Saturday comes round after news of international steel company Ta Ta deciding to sell the steel plants in Port Talbot and the government, faced by international corporate business and, either confounded by European Union rules or using this as an excuse unable/unwilling to do much. It is so much easier, of course, to be in opposition … but to be making the decisions (or avoiding them)? I mention this because, once upon a time Sheffield was the earth’s home of steel, particularly the stainless variety, the place was synonymous with quality cutlery and pen-knives. Hall marked!

And this indeed is where the nickname of Sheffield United comes from: the Blades! Their mascot is a rather pantomime pirate figure – up-staged only at half time by a rag-tag bunch of super-heroes (a lanky Spiderman, an aged-looking Captain America, Deadpool, and – a token DC character – Batman who parade around the ground, posing for photos and waving to sections of the nineteen thousand and some crowd.

Exactly when and where did this “nicknaming” of clubs start? The derivations of names from local industry/trade (obvious in names like Luton Town’s Hatters, Scunthorpe’s The Iron) gives something of the history – and pride of places the clubs are based. But, rather hollow in places like Sheffield, far more famous in its current guise for the Don Valley Stadium, and coach trips to one of Europe’s largest shopping malls at Greenhall Meadows. Coach trips to a shopping centre, I ask you. Really?

Walsall still has saddleries of some repute, including one which provides saddles for the Spanish Riding School (based, naturally enough in Vienna, capital of Austria!) And, I remember pootling around a cowboy store in Montana, finding saddles badges with made in Walsall.

But I get ahead of myself. The weather brightens after a trip to the library. By the time I get to my brother’s the roads are beginning to dry and by the time I have picked up the other two and am pulling out of the Alrewas petrol station things are looking up.

The car zooms speedily enough along the A38, the M1 and grinds to something of a stutter as we hit city centre traffic. Finding a parking space is never easy, but Bramall Lane is unusually close to the actual city centre. Loads of roads are permit-only and bristle with monitoring wardens. Eventually after riding all of the famous seven hills of the city (some of ‘em more than once) we chance upon a spot and disembark.

Inside the ground we get some pies and beers in (though I’m still resolutely non-alcohol – at least until we get beaten) and climb stairs to find we have a super view, from behind the goals of a well-sponsored, well-maintained ground. Which lacks the floodlight pylons it once had, but looks enormous from this angle. Feels rich too, though it may not be.

Kick off and some urgent scuttling about. Pennington is making his debut. Looks big, plays with confidence and energy in a 3 – 5- 2 system (if Sawyers can be considered a striker that is – even he is not sure).

Rico Henry running the left wing. Fast, tricky, but his crosses after wonderful runs are wasted. Either because he doesn’t look or because we just don’t have bodies up there (take your pick) and we go a goal down.

Sheffield using the wings well, carrying the ball. Well, they are at home. But Walsall are still, somehow, underwhelming. Was it the international break lay-off?

Reece Flanagan, picked because he had impressed in training, is ineffective, or swamped by Sheffield players, Sam Mantom cannot make up the ground and Chambers, always willing is last-ditch tackling and covering like a maniac.

Soon we are two goals down.

There is a spirited spell in the second half. Milan Lalkovic comes on, Hiwula too, but it is too late to make a real difference. Bradshaw up front, for the first time this season is unable to run on to the balls that are pumped up to him.

So we file, quietly out and find our way – eventually across the non-motorway Peak District therapy. By the time I am pulling into the drive at home most of the below-par performance has been erased.

Still in it: heads-down boys and pull for the top spots!

Oh, and I can now drink alcohol without feeling too guilty: thanks boys!