Heroes

We all have heroes, but why, and what makes a footballer hero-worthy?

DeadBat

Over the summer I was watching Glastonbury on TV and Dave Grohl blasted out this line from a classic Foo Fighters song. Like with a lot of music, it immediately brought memories and associations with United.

There goes my hero, watch him as he goes…

It makes me think of one particular Blades player, but it also had me pondering how many true ‘heroes’ I’d had in my United-supporting life. What makes a hero? Can you have a sporting hero as an adult? Do I have one now? Should I? 

---

hero:

noun - a person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

---

Firstly, I think it is reasonable to suggest you have more footballing heroes — those weird obsessions and fixations — when you are a child. I mentally skimmed through a chronology of my own, and the numbers are weighted toward my youth. But for those heroes who aren’t, it becomes a bit strange, when as an adult, you are older than they are: most players now are closer in age to my son than me. 

I need to be clear. I have had lots of favourite United players and footballers. However, there are very few I would classify as an out-and-out ‘hero.’ These players are special. They are out on their own. Revered. Stick them on my imagined Mount Bladesmore.

---

Let me know your hero of choice. I’m sure we share a few.

---

I started attending the Lane around the mid-eighties. We wore the classic shiny red and white Umbro shirt and the crowds were sparse. It was the time of Porterfield, and then McEwan. The football was, for the most part, dire. We fluctuated around the middle spots in the old second tier, seemingly going nowhere. There was one name that stood out though

KEITH EDWARDS. He was our best player, our leading goal scorer, our talisman. Heroes to youngsters are often strikers, the ones that get all the goals and take the limelight. The name ‘Edwards’ was the one that always seemed to appear in the local and national newspapers. He even had a poster in Shoot! Magazine, an honour usually reserved for the likes of Rush, Lineker and Robson. I admired Edwards’ skills and sublime finishing but then the admiration, nay obsession, took on a new level.

I remember trying to comb my hair like his. I remember celebrating goals in the schoolyard like he did, arms aloft and fingers pointed upward. I wanted to be like King Edwards. I vividly remember waking up in a cold sweat after having a nightmare that we sold him. This dream sadly became a reality a few years later when he was lured up the road to Leeds, a migratory pattern quite common among United heroes before and after. And when he left, my hero was gone.

In the years after, Peter Withe, Mark Dempsey and even the exciting Peter Beagrie (think it was more the somersaults than his play!) did not fill the void Edwards left. You have to fast forward to the 1988 off-season to find another.

Picture the scene. I am on holiday in Majorca. United start the season away from home and we find a kiosk selling UK newspapers the next day. I quickly flick to the scores and it reads, Reading 1 Sheffield United 3 (Stancliffe, Joseph and Dean). I had never heard of the last name. This was before the internet. A time when all Blades news came via the local newspaper and radio station. When we got back to the UK, the first game we would see in person was against Chester at the Lane. We soon realised the fella who had scored at Elm Park was actually called, ‘Deane,’ but the addition of the extra ‘e’ did not help us identify who this new signing was.

We had briefly seen his striker partner Tony Agana the previous season but as I watched our gangly new number 10 warm-up, he did not fill me with confidence. BRIAN DEANE had signed for just £30k from Doncaster and was essentially a ‘bit of a punt.’ These reservations were soon quashed as the rangy young striker scored a hat trick including a delightful lob and a diving header. Over the opening games, I became transfixed. He had a bit of everything. I had never seen a striker so tall who was as quick and nimble. He could dribble and was powerful, being strong in the air. I had found my new hero.

Over the next few seasons, Deane and Agana became like bacon and eggs. Salt and pepper. Fish and chips. Great on their own, but even better together. We surged up the leagues and they made United genuinely cool for the first time in my life. Deane simply looked the part, as a footballer and aesthetically. The high-top fade with the shaved v in his hair, the fluorescent away kit. I loved him. He scored all sorts of goals too: backwards flicks, one-on-ones, powerful shots, headers and more! I became even more obsessed with him than Edwards.

I recall my anticipation of the first top-flight Sheffield Derby for nearly 23 years and what this lauded Wednesday side were going to do to us. Deane somehow came back to play after being out with glandular fever. He scored the clinching goal. *Play John HelmL ‘Here’s a chance for Deane. Brian Deane! It’s gone through. The gamble has paid off for Dave Bassett! Deane’s shot nutmegged Chris Woods on the line!’* I never looked forward to going to school on a Monday; I did that week. 

Agana suffered injuries and eventually moved on but Deane continued to develop and prosper. He scored goals in the top flight. He was on Match of the Day. He even went on to play for England. A United player representing his country?! I never thought I would see the day. Like with Edwards, it could not last forever. Off he went. Leeds again, of course. Another period without a hero followed. Flo, Blake and others tried but they were not Brian Deane.

In 1997, I’m riding my bike home from a friend’s house and I see the Star board outside my local shop: ‘Blades hero re-signs!’ When I arrive home my Dad already has a copy of the paper. I couldn’t believe it. Deano was home! It was around that time the Foo Fighters released ‘My Hero’ and as I watched his homecoming match against Sunderland on a VHS tape that I had recorded, I simultaneously played my Foo Fighters CD to accompany him walking out. Goosebumps. He’d shaved his head but in that Wards kit, he still looked cool. For the early part of that season, Deane and Fjortoft (his new Agana) ripped up the league and we were contending for promotion. Life was good again, at least until Black Thursday. Selling Fjortoft was a shock but Deane as well? The same day? That’s when I started to believe my Dad’s oft-used phrase:

‘Son, they’ll always let you down that club!’ 

Devoid of a hero again, we had a spell where the managers and players changed frequently. Talented youngsters like Tonge and Jagielka came through but I didn’t class them as heroes. I also wondered if I could have a hero who wasn’t a striker. After all, I’d never had one before.

Then, at the turn of the millennium, we picked up a midfielder on loan from Manchester City. He appeared an industrious player who had a good shot and could dribble but seemed fairly unremarkable. In 2002-03 he took his game to a whole new level. MICHAEL BROWN became my third bona fide player to reach hero status and my first that was not a striker. He only cemented this status when he started to score goals, yet he possessed so many other qualities that endeared him to fans. He was a dirty so-and-so and a proper wind-up. His cheeky grin after dumping an opponent on the floor is an image I retain as much as the worldy goals he scored. The strike against them lot put him in a similar category to Deane, and an all-time classic leaving Pressman clutching air. Brown moved on too, of course with Spurs acquiring him after an impressive season. At least he did not go to Leeds (although he did eventually!).

Yours truly with Michael Brown at a Q and A night at the Lane after he had retired

Fast forward once more to 2005-06. It’s my wedding day and I am in a taxi heading for the reception venue. Radio Sheffield is playing. ‘Sheffield United have signed former hero, Brian Deane, for the third time on a short-term contract.’ By this time, I am 27 and Deane is 10 years older, yet I could barely contain the delight in him wearing the red and white stripes again. To this day my wife describes it as ‘my’ highlight of our wedding day. He didn’t play much and didn’t score but he was home. The ovation he received when he came on for his final appearance, fittingly at the Lane in the game against Palace, was something else. 

This all-too-brief love affair was followed by another barren hero-less period. James Beattie was not here long enough and Ched Evans’s transgressions in a North Wales hotel removed him from consideration. We had the likes of Walker and Maguire but their best days were to come after they left S2. As the Blades slumped to League One, I longed for a connection or affinity but the players representing us were far from heroes.

‘I think a hero is any real person intent on making this a better place for all people.’ – Maya Angelou, Poet, Writer and civil rights activist

In 2014, amid a miserable rut, we signed a utility player called CHRIS BASHAM. I think I called him Steve, like some journalists, in his early days. This bumbling, awkward midfielder seemed another miss in a long line of questionable signings. I was not convinced he could be a regular, even at this level, but over time he became dependable, adaptable and always committed. He was a regular through a succession of managers who tried and failed to get us out of the division but when Chris Wilder came in, Wilder took United and Basham to a new level, creating an almost-new position: the overlapping/underlapping centre backs were born.

Bash became like three men — defending, then in midfield and out of nowhere suddenly attacking. It was a tactical phenomenon and over time became spoken about worldwide. Successive promotions followed and Bash was the heartbeat of it all. The ‘Basham’s arriving!’ moment at Leeds stands out but we also must remember in that first season, he took to the Premier League with comfort. His personable character endeared him to fans and he embodied the ‘normal bloke’ connection with the supporters that was synonymous with the period. He invariably made us smile and has become one of the longest-serving players in our history. Bash definitely gets into my hero category even if he is the most unlikely of them all. It will be a sad day when he moves on as he has embodied everything good about the Blades over the last decade. 

Of course, over this recent period of success, many players could make a case to be a hero. O’Connell, Stevens, Fleck, Duffy, Coutts, Baldock, Norwood and Egan can all make legitimate claims and will go down as Blades legends, yet it was as much about the collective as it was the individual. Maybe in Wilder, we had a manager that could rival Dave Bassett as a potential hero manager? Maybe that is a discussion for another day – can a manager be in this group of rare individuals?

One player from this era who stands out to me, alongside Basham and another (who I will conclude this article discussing) is DAVID MCGOLDRICK. A player who, maybe more than any other, completely disproved my opinion of him after I saw him play for us. I’ve never seen Deane, Brown or Basham play before they came to the Lane. But McGoldrick was a player I had a sound opinion of. A journeyman striker who did not score enough and lacked pace/genuine quality. I sighed when we had him on trial but, after seeing him play, my opinion completely pivoted. His ball control, passing, flicks and the way he swerved or glided past opponents made him a huge favourite. Didzy had many of the characteristics Deane had. He not only played well but looked good. Another with a trademark celebration too.

He went through a long spell without scoring but was still appreciated from the terraces due to his work ethic, team play and likeable persona. The players seemed to adore him as much as the fans and, when he finally left, the messages from all showed the high regard he was held in. Also, Didzy is one of the few players who, after he departed United, I was genuinely pleased for when he scored. I had an indifference to Edwards, Deane and Brown after they moved on, but whenever Jeff Stelling read out McGoldrick’s name on Saturday afternoons, me and my son would turn to each other and say, ‘Go on Didzy!’ The fact he has now signed for his local club at the end of his career adds to his legacy. One of the great EFL players, and a thoroughly decent human being.

My son with McGoldrick after we got promoted in 2018

‘Billy, Don’t Be a Hero!’ – Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods, 1974

Finally, I come full circle. My last hero is another striker and a player who was key to our renaissance. It seems it is also a rare occurrence for me to have more than one hero at a time, but along with Basham and McGoldrick, BILLY SHARP is in the same bracket.

It seemed that it would never happen for him at the Lane as he had two largely unsuccessful spells. Like others, he left and came back (twice) but unlike Edwards and Deane, Sharp’s return was not met with the same fanfare. His third return, from Leeds (yes, they sometimes come the other way!) was not universally acclaimed. He had some success in that dreadful Adkins season but it took another Blades fan, Wilder, to really ignite him.

Being named captain seemed to galvanise him. He scored 30 goals and lifted the League One trophy. Seeing him in the car park post-Northampton summed up what the club meant to him and us. We went up again two years later and his partnership with McGoldrick evoked the same feelings as that of Deane and Agana 30 years previous. His late goal at Bournemouth will go down in Blades folklore as the fairytale continued. Granted, he was not a regular, but despite being written off every season he provided goals and kept proving everyone wrong. He represented the club fantastically. A marvellous ambassador on and off the pitch who wore the badge with pride. More than any of the others, Sharp embodies the qualities to make him a true ‘hero.’

After all, he is one of us. He loves the club. A fan growing up, then a ball boy, then an apprentice and then a fully-fledged first-teamer. He went on to be our captain, leading scorer and leader for many years. 

His speech at the Town Hall was emotional not only for him but for the many supporters who stood below. As the crowd shouted, ‘One more year!’ Sharp responded with this:

“…1, 10, 20 more years, if this is the end, I want to thank you all, to be able to be part of this club for 10 years, I’d like to thank everyone for being part of it, especially you, the fans.’

He knew he was leaving and it broke his heart. Even at 44 years of age, I still had a hero. Like with Edwards, Deane, Brown and McGoldrick, I had that sense of loss when he departed but with it, a happiness; I had seen him represent my club with such pride. It will happen again with Basham one day soon and I will experience that same mixed feeling. There will be more heroes, I’m sure.

Sharp with my son Zachary after he re-signed in 2015

Because you are never too old to have heroes after all. When I asked my 15-year-old son if he had a hero from the current side, he looked at me like I was insane. ‘ILIMAN NDIAYE, of course!’ I laughed as the realisation hit that he was mine too.

Of course, the only thing more certain than having a hero is losing them. We all know what happened with Ndiaye. Now it’s the next generation’s turn to step up to the mark.

‘As you get older, it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary.’ – Ernest Hemmingway, American novelist