Sue Forbes
F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote:
“A ride in a train can be a terrible, heavy-hearted, or comic thing.”
And then there’s British Rail.
It came to pass that I became a Sheffield United “supporter” in 1984 when the architectural firm I worked for designed the (then) new South Stand and I was given some shares in the club. But, as a single woman in her twenties, I would no more have thought of standing on football terraces than flying! Then grounds became all-seater and much safer, and I became a proud season-ticket holder in the 2003/04 season.
I’m not sure this is the greatest story ever told, but I thought I’d share with the good readers of The Pinch some random memories from just a few of my Blades-supporting away days by train between roughly 2005 and 2020.
They’re not particularly match-related. There’s no technical knowledge or tactical insight. They’re in no particular order or league position. There’s a preponderance of false starts. And a bit of opera.
Crystal Palace
Back in the good old days, when Corona was a fizzy drink rather than a deadly virus, we had something called “Swine Flu” instead. The dreaded lurgy had barely registered on these shores, but it was in the papers and thought to have come out of Mexico.
On the train down to London, a group of Blades supporters were tossing a large inflatable pig wearing a sombrero (of all things) around the carriage. Innocent young thing that I was, only just starting out on my Blades-supporting career, I didn’t know that Sheffield Wednesday and their supporters were colloquially known as “pigs”. I just thought it was a very clever play on the words “swine flu” and “Mexico”...
Hartlepool United
The train gets as far as York, where the station announcer is telling folk, packed on the platforms like proverbial sardines from cancelled trains, that the delay is due to a broken-down train further along the track.
But: “We apologise for any inconvenience caused to your journey today.”
Oh well, that’s all right then.
My arthritis-affected walking pace is rather slow, and getting from station to football ground anywhere takes me a while, so, applying the “cunning plan” tactic, I leave quite a lot of spare time. The point of no return is fast approaching, though, when suddenly the trains get going again. By happily sharing a taxi from Hartlepool station (thanks, guys!), I sit down just as the referee blows his whistle for kick-off.
MK Dons
A really nice sunny day for being at the top of League One. A really nice, stress-free train journey (yes!). An overnight stay in a really nice hotel and a really good result.
Great fancy-dress costumes with lots of magic hats and foam bricks. Even the police are smiling at the carnival atmosphere.
There’s endless singing of Jack O’Connell’s song, and a chap celebrating by beam-balancing in the concourse in the light of a red flare. The MK Dons supporters stay to the end to applaud. The players come over and Billy Sharp throws a foam brick at JOC to “head back”. Chris Wilder pushes Alan Knill forward.
It’s a really good feeling being a Sheffield United supporter on a day like this.
Red and white wizards
And if you throw a brick at him...
West Ham United
Travelling to Upton Park, of fond memory. (Another architectural client, but that’s another story.)
Approaching Peterborough, the train comes to a halt because there’s a broken-down train further along the track.
But: “We apologise for any inconvenience caused to your journey today.”
Well, you can’t get out of a train stopped in the countryside, so I just sit and wait.
I eventually get to London, through the Underground system, and arrive twenty minutes after kick-off.
And then, as Basil Fawlty never said:
“Don’t mention the... Tevez thing.”
Wembley
Play-off final against Burnley. Nothing train-related to report, only memorable for that one goal sailing past Paddy Kenny.
Say no more, but it’s a long walk back down Wembley Way.
Wembley Again
Play-off final against Huddersfield Town. The trains behaved themselves, so it’s only memorable for Steve Simonsen’s attempt to land a ball on Mars.
Say no more, but it’s a long walk back down Wembley Way.
London’s pigeons fear for their safety on the stadium roof.
Wembley Yet Again
FA Cup semi-final against Hull City.
Trains all good, and Stefan Scougall scores.
Yes, I’ll say that again: Stefan Scougall scores!
The Blades are leading at half-time and we’re all daring to dream (a bit).
Say no more, but it’s a long... well, you get the picture.
Northampton Town
Not really an away day, as I couldn’t travel to this one, but I came to Sheffield by train (crafty link there) to see The Mikado by Dore Amateur Operatic Society at the Montgomery Theatre. Bear with me.
Look, theatres tell the audience to switch off mobile phones, don’t they? But there’s always one, isn’t there?
She waits until the second act, mind, but it’s annoying seeing that phone screen keep lighting up out of the corner of my eye. About half past four, though, the penny drops that perhaps I’m not the only Blades supporter in the audience, and she might be looking at the score from Sixfields.
As the chorus skip into their finale, she fist-pumps the air and grins at her neighbour. So, taking that to mean what I think it does, I admit not all my applause at the end of the show is for the singers.
League One wilderness at an end!
Promotion beckons!
Proof that if you spend years wandering the wilderness, eventually your GPS remembers the way back to the Championship.
Norwich City
My first trip to Carrow Road, and a rather pleasant train journey through the Wetlands Nature Reserve and picturesque Ely.
Easy walk to the ground and back to the station after the match.
Only to find chaos, as trains have been cancelled since 3.00pm due to a broken-down train further along the track.
But: “We apologise for any inconvenience caused to your journey today.”
Things might be bearable if the concourse food and drink kiosks remain open but, no, this is England and they close promptly at 6.00pm.
Trains eventually get going again at about 9.00pm and, travelling by the scenic route, half by train and half by coach, I finally get home at 2.00am.
Good job the Blades won...
(Yes, I know I’m repeating myself, but I assure you that, paraphrasing Oscar Wilde, “one is misfortune, three looks like carelessness”; these broken-down trains really did happen.)
Sheffield Wednesday
Bouncing Day (although we don’t know enough to call it that at the time) in the warm September sunshine.
I catch an early train, as the 10K race is being run in the morning, but it’s all over by the time I get to Sheffield. It proves prescient, though, as I get a timely tram out to Hillsborough and avoid all the argy-bargy that a lot of tram-travelling supporters suffer later. Sorry.
As I sup my cup of tea in the sunshine, waiting for the stand to fill up, I’m wondering where everyone’s got to.
Anyway, the rest, as they say, is history...
I give you Mr Mark “Bounce-Slayer” Duffy.
And just to prove I’m there, I pinch this screenshot after Leon Clarke scores the fourth.
Remember the arthritis? I can’t jump up and down, but my applause is sincere.
My hands need ice packs for the next three days.
Leeds United
The train rattles along in the miserable, pouring rain, and it’s still raining miserably when I get to the ground.
It’s a thoroughly miserable performance in the first half.
But then!
Basham “arrives”, the Leeds goalkeeper is sent off, and automatic promotion becomes a little more certain.
My taxi back to the station doesn’t turn up (it’s still raining), but grateful thanks to some lads from Doncaster who let me share theirs. They’re quite complimentary about the Blades too.
Thankfully, the train home is nice and warm, so I get a chance to dry off a bit.
The goal was so unexpected, even the back of the net had to Google what just happened...
The Premier League (First Time Round)
Excellent away days, even though every other match does seem to be somewhere in London!
And although the latter part is played behind closed doors (Corona is now definitely a virus and not a fizzy drink), no trains are harmed in the playing of this season.
Sadly, physical and financial constraints mean I can’t do away days any longer, but I’d like to offer my admiration and thanks to all those Travelling Blades whom I hear making such a racket on the radio.
Keep flying the flag!
Love a Train Story me. 15 September 1990. Lost 2-0 to Southampton at The Dell. Got on a train back to London & met my mate Alan. We got to an intermediate station. Maybe Basingstoke. Maybe somewhere else. I can't quite recall. Alan says - everybody off. What's happening Alan, this train is direct to Waterloo. Why are we getting off? But, if Alan says, we do. We hotfoot to the Pub, drink our pints in one, and hotfoot back to the station. Maybe seven minutes.
Alan gleefully explains that the second train we are about to get on is "fast to Waterloo" and "will overtake that rattler we were on" meaning "we'll get back to London earlier AND we've had a beer".
Knew his trains did Alan...
Pretty sure I was on the same train to West Ham (Tevez season?). My memory was that there was suicide on the track somewhere around Peterborough. I remember running to Upton Park from the tube station… We needn’t have bothered…