From North Sheffield To The North Sea
Tyrone James writes the first in a new regular column for The Pinch, reflecting on a first home game, a frozen beach, and how a life following Sheffield United began.
Tyrone James:
I started writing away day blogs as a way to collect the photos I’d taken along the way. Those photos tried to capture both the emotion and the banality of following United home and away, and the writing slowly became something more cathartic—because supporting this club isn’t exactly the easiest hobby. The response, though, has always been amazing. So I’m glad to keep writing about something I love: Sheffield United.
This column won’t be one thing or another. Sam said there doesn’t have to be a theme, but I’ll run with a sensible one. As a very famous person once said: “Let’s start at the very beginning; it’s a very good place to start.”
I’d like to take you back to the very first home game I (properly) remember, and of course I’d be remiss not to talk about my first away game too.
And to begin, I need to make a confession. I come from a family of Sheffield Wednesday fans. That’s not unusual growing up in the northern end of Sheffield. However, my dad — the real football-mad member of the family — is actually a Liverpool supporter.
As tends to be the case with dads and lads, he tried to ensure that my ‘forever club’ would be the Reds. He nearly succeeded, at least for the first few years of my life (Helen, if you’re reading this, please burn that photograph of me in a Crown Paints Liverpool shirt that you’re keeping for blackmail purposes).
The first few years of my life were spent going to Anfield when Liverpool were at home, and then Bramall Lane when Liverpool were away.
Why the Lane? Well, given my contrary nature, I refused to follow the rest of the family, I didn’t like Hillsborough, and I’d just couldn’t see myself ever supporting them. United just felt right.
I don’t remember much about my first United home game, but I do remember it was against Liverpool (shock) and I also remember just looking around the old ground, taking it all in, the noise was deafening, and I just somehow felt completely at home.
The date of that game was the 25th August 1990. United lost 3–1. Which, in hindsight, was a very good introduction to supporting this wonderfully infuriating football club.
My first real away game came much later: Saturday 16th February 2002, Grimsby Town v Sheffield United. There may have been earlier trips, but this was the first proper one. Just me, my mates, and the train. An early start from Meadowhall to Cleethorpes and I remember the train journey being pretty eventful, as one of us had boarded without a ticket and had no money on him. That was fun, and expensive.
United lost the game 1-0. However…
*Worth watching for a classic freekick
…Me and my mates won.
We beat a group of Mariners fans on the beach before the game. Jumpers for goalposts, freezing our bits off, playing in our socks, and generally having a lovely time, before the flyaway ball disappeared into the North Sea.
I also won a Toy Story alien prize on the grabber machine in the amusements after. It’s the small wins.
I haven’t missed many away games since, even though they look a lot different these days. For a start, the group of people I go with is a lot different. No better or worse, just different. I also don’t partake in alcohol as much these days, so I tend to spend hundreds of hours a year driving up and down the many concrete arteries of England and Wales. One thing hasn’t changed though, I’m absolutely hooked.
So there we go. Nice to meet you. Take a seat, strap in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
