Relegation and the magic of bouncebackability

Sheffield United have been relegated from the Premier League, and will be hoping to show 'bouncebackability' next season. But do we have it? And do we want it?

Words: David Taylor

As certain as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, as tick following tock, and as Neil Warnock taking another job moments after saying he’s retiring, Sheffield United’s relegation from the Premier League has been confirmed. Our 5-1 loss to Newcastle followed a pattern that’s emerged over one of the most draining seasons in recent years: a strong first-half showing that should’ve finished more fruitfully (Newcastle boss Eddie Howe even telling reporters that he wasn’t sure how they came in level at the break), then a second half lacking energy, guile and defensive strength that took the game away from us quicker than Anel Ahmedhodžić’s stint as captain. We lost 13-1 on aggregate (thankfully away goals don’t count double anymore). It was a day at the office that went from very good to atrocious in around an hour. I’m starting to think the job isn’t worth the perks.

Relegation has been embraced by much of the United faithful, either through tired resignation or warm hysteria, a fanbase continuing to sing its songs on the deck of its very own Titanic. It continues to amaze me how football supporters can create joy out of misery, and it’s fun to watch relegation parties pop up, but underwriting it all is a serious indictment on the last twelve months, communication and action from higher-ups, and certain players who have failed the club. There are much better football analysts than me on the Pinch team who have looked and will continue to look through the 2023/24 omnishambles with their respective fine-tooth combs, but it’s safe to say the season won’t be remembered as a stonking success on the pitch.

Off-pitch progression

But are there reasons to be cheerful off it? It certainly feels that way, with ground finally purchased for a new first-team training complex, the final pockets of McCabe land back in the club’s hands, and the hotel showing signs of progress.

Off the pitch, then, we’re doing well – and that’s nothing but positive – but it’s taken global humiliation for the club to be in a financial position to do so. If it all pays off, and our already-successful Academy gains Category A status, the new training ground becomes the envy of the area and we never hear the phrase “soft tissue damage” again, and the land around the stadium is used in a way that makes the club look every bit the prestigious organisation its history demands, then I’m sure most of us, in hindsight, would take one torrid season.

But I’d much rather be told this from the beginning, instead of watching a fanbase that continues to turn out every week in impressive numbers being sold a half-hearted pipe dream about ‘competing’ at the top level while the club at best replaces the brightest playing talent we had in the Championship. A little honesty – less ‘they’ll play better if they’re playing for a contract’ and more ‘we don’t have bottomless pockets so have to prioritise the long term’ – would have been appreciated by most. We might be fans blinded by our love for the club, but don’t treat us like fools.

Bouncebackability

And so we come to bouncebackability. Apparently introduced to the world by Ian Dowie to describe his Crystal Palace team’s rise from flirting with relegation in December to winning the play-offs in May (although evidence of its use has been found as far back as 1972), the term entered the Oxford English Dictionary in 2005 alongside Sir Alex Ferguson’s “squeaky bum time”. Not a bad year for lovers of the football lexicon. It’s a charming word, distilling the sporting phenomenon of being able to react to and recover from major setback to succeed against expectation.

If there’s ever a time to see if Sheffield United has bouncebackability, it’s this summer. With a significant number of players out of contract and others who evidently don’t want to stick around, Wilder and co. have a rebuild on their hands worthy of Notre-Dame. While this looks like an inauspicious start to 24/25, a clean-out could be just what’s needed for a team jaded by a chastening season and losing a yard in the legs. Add to that the heartening Premier League performances of captain-material Oliver Arblaster and other Academy prospects, and we have the makings of a new generation of United players mostly unencumbered by any recent baggage. It might not be enough to win promotion at the first time of asking – Bramall Lane wasn’t built in a day – but a fresh start is needed up and down the club’s hierarchy, and supporters will still be there come the first game of next season.

Do we want promotion?

There are valid arguments that we might not want to go back up to the circus of the Premier League, with its muddled VAR system, the social media pile-ons and Chris Sutton. It doesn’t seem worth it, especially when the gap between the haves and the have-quite-a-lot-lesses widens with every alleged breach of the rules. I’m feeling a similar sentiment right now. But until FIFA robot covered in ham Gianni Infantino decides to go back to his home planet and takes the Association’s money men with him, the best way to ensure United’s continued existence is through dragging ourselves back into the big time. And at least the season before last was fun, right guys? I still remember the lap of honour after finishing 13th in League One. I was there, man.

There are still three games left this season, starting with Notts Forest next weekend. While we’re already down, we have the opportunity to do something exceedingly funny by beating them, acting as a vengeful anti-kingmaker. We might have had a tough old year, but it feels like our finances are a little more on an even keel now – I wouldn’t want to be a Forest fan if that bloated carcass of a wage bill is relegated.

So, to the Championship we parachute. It’s the best league in the world, and we get more games for our season ticket price. And if we don’t bounce straight back up, at least – as our porcine friends across the city continue to chant – we must still be Blades.