Enjoy the ride

Perspective, patience and a reminder that supporting United doesn’t have to feel like hard labour. Jon Bradley argues that we can — and should — enjoy the ride.

Words: Jon Bradley

The criticism Chris Wilder and his players get when they fall short of the standards they’ve set this season isn’t unusual. It’s not some coordinated personal attack on the bloke who grabbed a sinking ship by the wheel, recruited sensibly, and dragged us away from the full Reuben Selles Experience™. It’s just one of the many hyperbolic realities of modern football.

Every win is “momentum.” Every defeat is “season over,” accompanied by the ritual sacrifice of whichever player misplaced a five-yard pass. Imagine if we had our own Arsenal Fan TV. Actually, don’t. Some things should remain the way they are...

Saturday’s win over Ipswich was one of our better performances since the Christmas decorations went back in the loft. Strip away the bad luck chat, and a lot of our poor run has been self-inflicted: questionable selections, individual errors, discipline, and mid-game brain-farts. We beat Ipswich well —really well. And despite nearly doing our best to spoil it with another questionable decision, this time one from stand-in captain Patrick Bamford, it was a standout performance. Still, the bigger point stands: the players we’ve got are good enough to move us up the table and stop the season ending in a whimper come May.

Before this turns into late-night, beer-fuelled football philosophising, here’s a necessary reality check. Bristol City made the play-offs with 68 points. In other seasons you’re looking at 80. When you’re 17th with under half of that, you’re not just climbing a hill, you’re halfway up Granville Road after far too many in the Leadmill. But fantasising about a late play-off charge is basically part of supporting United, despite history repeatedly smacking us over the head. So maybe, just maybe, we try a different approach for the next 18 games?

Look at what’s actually in front of us: Seriki, Peck, Brooks, and soon Arblaster. Not since the triple-assault season have we had this many homegrown lads establishing themselves at once, with two of them lifelong Blades. For the next 18 months, a young side built around those four players is something most Championship clubs would kill for. That alone is worth enjoying.

And yes, there’s still life in the old dogs. Bamford and Jairo have been inspired additions. Bamford has massively exceeded expectations for someone who arrived labelled “not up to speed,” and Jairo, injuries aside, brings a calm to midfield we badly need. Tom Davies (deep sigh) reminded us Saturday exactly what he offers. We’ve no idea how long we get that version, so we may as well appreciate it while it’s here. And Ben Mee? A man who can now tackle wingers of Jack Clarke’s calibre using mainly his forehead.

Let’s also not pretend we’ve suddenly got a squad of useless dross, well not entirely. Michael Cooper and Gustavo Hamer are very good players at this level. Cooper’s had shaky moments, Hamer’s been quieter than last season’s headline act, but Saturday showed why they matter. Cooper kept us in it with big saves and looked more commanding in the second half. Hamer is just class, the sort you don’t fully appreciate until he’s gone somewhere else and we’re pretending we never doubted him. Let’s enjoy him whilst we can.

So what is success? Such is the scale of the challenge, promotion via the play-offs would be one of the great achievements in the club’s history. Getting there at all would be a triumph. A top-half finish? Solid. Top ten? Very good. All of these, of course, are ambitious for a side that hasn’t sniffed the top half all year. But football is nothing without a bit of delusion or indeed hope.

And let’s be honest — there’s joy to be found elsewhere. The possibility of relegating Wednesday in February is the kind of storyline scriptwriters would reject as “too unrealistic.” Beating Wrexham and watching Phil Parkinson’s face slowly lose colour at the Lane. Ruining Middlesbrough or Coventry’s big plans. Making Barry Bannan’s South East London debut deeply unpleasant. Petty? Absolutely. Essential? Also yes.

The season took too long to burst into life. But there are 18 games left. 54 points. A young core. Some proper players. And a manager who’s already steadied the wheel.

Maybe, just maybe, if we stop treating every other match like a state funeral and actually start to enjoy the ride… we might remember why we do this in the first place.