Gloating Wilder got it right

Chris Wilder's sing-song makes him a hero and villain, surely that's what we want from derby day?

Sam Parry

On a stag do in Munich, I woke up to the words: “That video of you is hilarious.” The fear shook me. Of course, it did. Nobody wants that.  

The previous night, as the Oompah band played, I found myself surrounded by Sheffield Wednesday fans. Some of them, I must admit, were and are my friends — we all have our cross to bear. Others were new acquaintances. And, grouped together, amongst the beers and the brass, they started a chant: to the tune of Boney M’s Daddy Cool: “Danny, Dany Röhl; Danny, Danny Röhl.”

Unbeknownst to me, this creative turn was being filmed by one of my new acquaintances. It was then uploaded onto social media, and the video goes a little like this: 

INT. 8 FOOTBALL FANS STAND HOLDING STEINS, ALL BUT ONE OF THEM IS CHANTING

[CAMERA PANS LEFT TO RIGHT]

DANNY

DANNY RÖHL!

DANNY

DANNY RÖHL!

HE GETS THE OWLS EXCITED

HE F**KING HATES UNITED

[CAMERA ARRIVES AT RIGHT-MOST FAN, WHO IS MAKING AN OBSCENE GESTURE TOWARDS THE CAMERA AS ONE MIGHT TO A DREADFUL REF AT HALF TIME]

The person was me. That video was shared on the internet and received a great response: “Someone chin the piggy bastard,” which of course, the rest of the group on stag do repeated to me whenever I uttered a word for the rest of the trip. 

Let it be a matter of public record: we were well-behaved on that trip. And this walk-on roll was a friendly bit of fun; the Wednesday fans were good people. Still, that didn’t stop the fear. You’ve done something — or behaved in some way — that isn’t bad, but slightly cringe-inducing. And yet, it’s allowed, isn’t it? Nothing cruel, nothing too deep, just a rivalry expressed.

The fear soon evaporated. But after lots of questions about respect, I wonder how Chris Wilder’s feeling now after joining in — and arguably leading — a chorus of Sausage, Sausage Röhl; Sausage, Sausage Röhl.

If I were him, I’d feel great. Because the truth is this: when Boney M’s Daddy Cool is blared out at Hillsborough in future, nothing — NOTHING! — can prevent their fans from reproducing the image of Chris Wilder singing Sausage Roll. Our manager becomes the villain to them and a hero to us, and derby days need heroes and villains. Football is story as much as sport.

There’ll have been some hungover wincing, I’m sure. But managers and players are human. And I think Chris Wilder’s response to leading HIS side to victory in the Sheffield derby was the natural, human response of all — in the pub, with friends and fans, having a few beers and a sing-song.

On both sides, I find it a bit tragic that the focus has shifted to a discussion about which fan base has the most wrong ‘uns. A totting up of people letting the side down. From the bloke who got caught spitting on Wednesday fans to the bloke who got caught with a disgusting message on his phone, these are exceptions that prove a rule: football fans are mostly good eggs. And the rotten ones only stink the place out so far as we let them. Let the villains and heroes be the real protagonists.

There’s no need to keep banging on about the idiots. There’s no need for whataboutery on the actions of a minority. The piss-taking should be limited to the football match, the stakes and the responses to those things. No need, in my view, to paint either club as a bunch of deplorables, because we all know we’re not.

The Sheffield derby is a special one because it is close, because it is tight, and because it is two sides of a city that intermingle every day. The antagonism is real and to be welcomed. The nasty ones will get what they deserve; what they deserve is not the spotlight. It’s not about them. It’s about winning and singing in the pub with your pals, or about losing and commiserating in the pub with your pals. It’s about character and colour, whether you like the characters and colours or not.

Wilder got that right, and won’t be unaware of the reality that he’s set himself up for fall (loss-depending) if Sheffield Wednesday beat us at their place. It’s almost a gift for them: raising the stakes for the whiff of the revenge story. I can already picture Danny Röhl standing on the tables of the Park Hotel in much the same way. And that’s fine. I don’t like the mental picture, because I want to see red and white dancing on tables. But surely that’s the palette we want to paint our derbies with?

Fans being fans — humans being humans — is why our derby isn’t the sanitised affair we see in London or Manchester. Because most of our fans have a long history with their club, one that raises the stakes, hate and anticipation. I’d much sooner that — with Wilder having a sing-song, and Danny Röhl giving some back — than the opposite. In many ways, that’s more respectful of the traditions of our city than a narrative of “respect” between two coaches. 

Fans gloat. That’s our job. And Chris Wilder is, after all, a fan. Is it a problem for him and the Sheffield United players to be out on the piss and enjoying the moment? I don’t think so, and I’d much rather that be the focus of the post-match to-and-fro than the stupid actions of stupid people.

A silly song about Sausage Rolls… yeah, it’s delicious. We’ll be dining out on it until the next villain rears their head.