James Kemp: one Blade, two wheels

James Kemp recycles toxic thoughts in a diary of his travels to Norwich, Hull, Portsmouth and Leeds.

These diaries were written contemporaenously over the course of this season. What follows are the day by day accounts of James’ thoughts, feeling and aspirations for the Blades as they face opponents and he faces the weather.

James Kemp

Norwich Day 1

Well, it seems that every time I plan a trip on the bike, we have a named storm. Ashley, Bert, or Connal? I called it ‘Tw*t’.

This is the second debacle in a week. When I cycled to the Lane last week, I arrived at the ground only to be told there was no longer a place to leave a bike. Matt Bassett came to the rescue and suggested I put it with the groundsman’s lawnmower. I love the shambolic nature of our club. 

Anyway, as I left home for Norwich, it was clear I’d be battered all day by 40 mph winds. Good job I’m a fat lad from Dronny.

Believe it or not, I enjoy long rides, and today’s 83 miles (despite the conditions) gave me a chance to empty my recycling bin of toxic thoughts. The best medicine, I reckon, for mental health issues. 

It’s always nice cycling through Newark. That’s where I stopped for an early lunch. Sitting outside, two lovely ladies said they’d watch my bike while I went to the loo (as if they were going to chase after any would-be thief).

By 60 miles in, I started feeling every mile, legs burning. But this is why I do these stupid rides—to push myself. When I was at my worst with mental health struggles, I literally couldn’t imagine any sort of future. The blackness was something I never wanted to experience again. 

The Sheffield United family (supporters) are very special to me. It’s emotional, especially when I read all the words of encouragement, like ‘you daft tw*t’. I kept such messages in mind as I arrived in Surfleet, suitably delighted that the place I was staying failed to mention they didn’t open till 5. A snooze on the riverbank it is then.

Norwich tomorrow!

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Norwich Day 2

I usually set off early doors, but with headwinds of 50 mph, I held on a bit. When I eventually got going, it was still brutal and straight into my face. Probably the most I’ve shit myself on a grod (to non-Dronfield folk, that’s a bike)—5 miles on a main A-Road into a headwind with Yorkie-loving swines getting a look at my armpit, far too close for my liking.

To my delight, after about 20 miles, the wind eased, and when I started heading more easterly, I got a tailwind. Doesn’t happen often, so I didn’t half enjoy it. Not long after, I passed a wonderfully named hairdresser’s: Blades Barbers. It was written in the stars (or at least in Norfolk).

I tend to drift into thoughts about United the nearer I get to the destination. Thoughts of when I first started suffering—sorry, watching—the Blades in August ‘74. Stood on a box on the old John Street terrace behind my old man against Man City in the TEXACO Cup. We won 4-2, which meant I ended up on my arse four times when my old man forgot I was behind him when we scored.

I was suddenly awakened from my thoughts when the loudest noise I’d heard since we last won at home pierced my ears. Fighter jets are pretty common around here, and on quizzing my cousin, who was once an RAF pilot, I established they fly up to 45,000 ft. No wonder I couldn’t see the swines. 

Stopped at Swaffham for lunch. Reight place. The places I’ve found cycling are pretty amazing. Salamanca, for example, when I decided to cycle to the Algarve. If you’ve never been, get thi sen off.

Lovely flat ride most of the day, but I remembered the last time I did this route, there were some keen hills in Norwich. 

Stuck my earphones in and some ‘get me up the hills music’ on, and before long, I was at Carrow Road. Let’s be having you!

A few sherbets early evening in Spoons and watching Dirty Leeds beat South Barnsley ended the perfect day. The match was frustrating, to say the least, but on the long journey home, my son and I agreed a point away at Norwich is never a bad thing.

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Hull City

So much for global warming—or is it climate change now they’ve realised it’s cold?

Mid-September, and I debated full-fingered gloves—nonsense.

Difficult to know what time to set off. Don’t want to be late (maybe that wouldn’t have bothered me last season), and don’t want to be so early that ale sees me off.

11:30, I set off. Really cold at first, but soon warmed up going up the hill after Eckington. 

Cycled this route a few times, and it always brings a smile to my face going past Pocket Handkerchief Lane (between Todwick and Dinnington). Really must find out why it’s called that.

Soon arrived in Bawtry for a sarni. 

How could developers/airlines get the airport plan so wrong? Such a shame that Finningley (yes, that’s what it’s called, not Robin Hood, Sheffield Doncaster blah blah) is now deserted.

Really needed to slow down as I was moving at a pace. 

Upon crossing The Humber Bridge, I recalled the guy who once waded through the river at low tide. Bonkers.

First time I’ve cycled to Hull, and fair play to the city—the cycle lanes actually last more than a hundred yards.

The game was similar to Norwich. Our first goal was very welcome, as I was convinced they would score. To be fair, though, our defence was awesome, and when we made a triple change to what appeared to be a more rigid 4-4-2, we looked in control. The second killed it off, although my negative attitude towards the Blades wouldn’t relax until the 94th minute.

So, so pleased for Anel after the game. 3,000 Blades singing his name, though I’m not sure he realised it until CW had a word and pushed him forward towards us. Very emotional moment. 

Onwards to Pompey. 

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Portsmouth Day 1

As I was on holiday with my partner (who lives in Gloucestershire), the route was different but still covered the same mileage.

The forecast was what we’d expect in December, not September. Luckily it didn’t materialise, and it was just a mid-morning soaking. First one of the season with panniers on. Now, I’m blobby enough without adding more weight, so I felt every mile and hill today.

My mood in the morning was very sombre. I felt very low. Thoughts of Jonny (Shoreham View) passing this week have really affected me. God knows what his poor family are going through. I’ve suffered with mental health issues and know I will again. 

The route was lovely, through parts of the country I’d not visited before. Apparently, we passed King Charles’ gaff, but alas, no invite for a cuppa. 

Reight posh. I plan my routes on ‘ridewithgps’, which is excellent, but sometimes it throws in a curveball. Today’s was to take me to an army base. Wondered why there were red flags flying, but when the road met a very closed gate, I realised I shouldn’t be there. A very polite Army chap mentioned that unless I fancied being target practice, I might want to go back down the hill I’d just climbed. Why they couldn’t have closed the road at the bottom of Everest, I don’t know.

Soon reached Stonehenge. Talk about a rip-off. Was going to take a look, but the extra 3 miles didn’t appeal, so it was back to the roller coaster roads, up and up and up.

Portsmouth Day 2

What’s the point in weather forecasters when the only thing they get right is the weather we had the previous day? FFS, they said today was going to be sunny with bits of cloud. So how is it that I nearly drowned? Pissed it down for most of the ride today. It got to the point, after trying to shield from the rain under a tree, that I went beyond caring. The driving rain was literally hurting my face. 

During the hours of rainfall, I started thinking about how lots of fans are already talking about when we play South Barnsley. Wish they wouldn’t. Hate them and hate the games. They’ll be the two games I miss all season. I’ll cycle for 3 hours, then come back to whatever’s happened. Easier said than done.

Eventually arrived in Lymington, wet through and pissed off. Rang the doorbell to the B&B only to receive a snotty response saying I was too early for check-in. Why do some people go into hospitality?

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Portsmouth Day 3

Portsmouth Day 3

Warning: I might swear.

Early morning ferry across to the Isle of Wight. Not sure if we went through some sort of time warp halfway across, because when I got on my grod on the other side, it was Baltic, and the wind—OMG.

The short ride to the top of the Needles was fine, but I’m sure if I had hair, it would have been the end of it.

The plan was to cycle the whole island, but halfway around, the road was closed, and the power-crazy hi-viz-wearing highway chap said there was no way through. Pointing out, in my best attempt not to sound like David Banner’s alter ego, that there was plenty of space, said swine was having none of it.

So, as there was no, and I mean no diversion it was literally a climb up a grass bank, over gates, through mud and then back down a bank managed to get back on the same road 50 yards from where I left it. This all took an hour. 

After all this, a left turn into strong headwinds felt like John Egan’s ghost goal.

Today was incredibly tough, mentally and physically. This, crazy as it sounds is why I do it. Tonight I will drink the island dry. 

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Portsmouth Day 4

Just a short 15 miles then match day.

The ground is pretty much the same (apart from the roof on away end) since I came in ‘87. That day we brought a few hundred and they had achieved promotion. There were 28,000 there and most were on the pitch at the end, even though we won 2-1.

This time, however, I was in the ground early as I couldn’t be bothered searching for a boozer. The concourse and location of toilets are great if there are a few hundred away fans but not for over 2,000. Bonkers.

We started very well and thought we would stroll it. However, after about 15 mins it became more even. Not convinced with the system and think maybe 3-5-2 may be worth a try but CW knows more than me. Another mass brawl at full-time ended an otherwise average game. Now to somehow get home via Winchester, Salisbury and Gloucestershire.

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Leeds

What can I say that’s not already been said? The utter horror at receiving a text message about George Baldock’s passing as I’d just landed in Faro will live with me forever. When George had left the club last summer, many were sad, but this… this is just an absolute nightmare. I can’t get my head around how this has affected me. Not sure I’m ready to watch a game yet. His poor family. He was only a matter of a few months older than my daughter.

The news on top of Jonny only a month ago has again rallied the Blades family to come together. This ride is for Jonny, I promised Kev that. But it’s with our Starman in mind too.

I set off at lunch and the weather was actually kind for once. I felt so flat for the whole 45 miles. I’ve actually never cycled to Meadowhall, why would I? But the cycle paths through Attercfifle were great.

I ended up on The Trans Pennine Way for a few miles, which is a really pleasant stretch. Couldn’t shake my downbeat mood though. There were few naughty lumps after that but overall not a bad route.

Arrived early and was surprised at how busy it was at 5 pm for an 8 pm KO. Nice welcome from the Leeds fans, some shaking me by the hand when I told them I was trying to raise awareness for mental health.

Then, members of Sheffield United Commercial team walked past, looked at me then looked through me and walked on…

I’ve kept very quiet about the lack of help from the football club, but that was the straw that broke the proverbial…

During 19/20 I cycled to every away ground (even when they were behind closed doors) to raise funds for The Sheffield Children’s Hospital. I was in touch with an individual at the club who to be fair was helpful. They helped me get the tickets (which I paid for by the way). That was generous of them.

The one other thing I asked for was a Retweet on Twitter. A simple show of support. Some awareness raising. But I was told they couldn’t do that, which baffled me, but still I accepted it.

However, you can imagine my sheer astonishment when the club then went and tweeted about a Wednesday fan cycling from S6 to S2. I actually rode with the young man in question, a lovely lad and family so no beef with them.

The thing that frustrated me was that one tweet from the club could have doubled the money for the Children’s. Not about me. I don’t want personal publicity but for Christ's sake are they so short-sighted. Most clubs would have been all over it. Just classless.

So when people who work for the club just constantly ignore what I’m trying to do, in this case trying to raise awareness for Mental Health Illness, it gets to the stage when I’ve had enough. It’s my choice to support the team, but to get nothing back has pushed me away. To be looked through and ignored… it has really done me. I’m done, finished with them.

Anyhow… the match didn’t surprise me, didn’t upset me because they are a better team. No fault of Chris Wilder or the players.