Tyrone James
It’s funny when I think about how much time I spend watching this football club I love so much.
None of it is actual wasted time, obviously. Not like scrolling through social media endlessly with no real plan in mind, or spending forty minutes deciding what to watch on Netflix before eventually watching an episode of The Office I’ve already seen.
I mean more the hours spent standing in away ends after we’ve lost, watching Tom Cannon ballsing up another gilt-edged chance and wondering why I didn’t take up golf.
But nevertheless, ten months of madness had returned. Yes, it was time for my non-football availability to take a nosedive as I embarked on another season of following this basket-case of a football club up and down the country.
I love it.
Overheard: “He’s a patsy!”
Mansfield Town.
The first competitive away game of the season saw a trip to the lesser visited Field Mill. I normally wouldn’t be quite as enthused about a first-round Carabao Cup tie, but the fact it was a new ground for The Wife meant that we were actually looking forward to it. Even more so when United were ahead after just four minutes via a right-time, right-place tap-in from our new hero Patrick Bamford.
I liked Patrick Bamford once. Then I hated him. Now I love him. He won’t reciprocate, but that’s okay, I’m happy just pretending we have a bromance from afar.
After his somewhat fortunate first goal, United had a very comfortable afternoon, which was nice. The out-of-favour (or at least then) Mark McGuinness used every inch of his 6ft frame to head one in from a corner midway through the second half and the soon-to-be departing (though we didn’t know it then) Callum O’Hare added a third.
A resounding 3-0 win to start the competitive campaign. Lovely. Following United is at its best when you don’t spend the entire journey home discussing whose fault everything was.
Overheard: “If I squint, he looks a lot like Jake Gyllenhaal.”
Swansea City.
Next up was the first league away game of the season, and naturally we started with the longest away trip we’d have to make. I don’t mind driving to South Wales as it’s a lovely journey, it just takes about three hundred years.
Playing Swansea City itself isn’t exactly a fixture to get the pulse racing, but at least this was on a Saturday at 3pm. There are only so many times a reasonably employed adult can logistically navigate a Tuesday night in South Wales, and trust me, I’ve done my fair share of those journeys.
There isn’t much to write about a 0-0 draw, although Callum O’Hare hit the bar and probably should have scored. If I think about it too hard I might get really upset spending six hours in a car just to see a boring, goalless draw, but that’s the chance you take with this club.
At least it gave us a little quirk to cling to. Two league games. No goals conceded. No goals scored. The perfect start, if football was decided on being mildly difficult to beat.
By this point, we’d developed something approaching a footballing identity: Absolutely nobody scores.
Overheard: “He’s definitely using Just For Men.”
Blackburn Rovers.
Next up was Blackburn Rovers away. Not the cup game. The league game that took place about two weeks later.
There are only so many times I can travel across the Pennines in one season, having already decided to skip the aforementioned Carabao Cup tie. I didn’t do Cardiff City away either a few days before. Two trips to South Wales a week apart? No thanks. I do have some standards. Admittedly, those standards are all entirely football-related, and selectively applied.
I’ve spent decades refining the precise geographical distance at which I become morally opposed to travelling for Sheffield United. It’s an increasingly complicated system that makes absolutely no sense to anyone, including me.
Still, off to Blackburn I went. Sydie Peck went from villain to hero in double-quick time, half at fault for costing us a goal that saw us go behind yet again in a league game this season, before getting his fucking act together and sliding once across for Tom Cannon to score about his fiftieth United goal against Blackburn Rovers. Peck then scored himself, doing some sort of fancy flick with his foot and swung his left foot at it and the ball swept into the bottom corner. An undeserved lead, but one we eventually held on to. Jubilation in the away end.
That moment of quality aside, it was a poor game. Rovers can feel hard done by, as we hardly had to get out of second gear to beat them, but my goodness it was a poor game. Do results matter more than performances at this stage of the season? Ask me in November.
Overheard: “She’s a talentless oaf.”
Fleetwood Town.
Yes, there are only so many times I can travel across the Pennines in one season, but here I was a week later making more or less the same journey to Highbury Stadium, a ground we have a horrific record at, but one I am oddly quite fond of.
The third round of the Carabao Cup had seen us drawn away again for the third game in succession, and here I was, hoping that the cold September air wouldn’t be too harsh on a trip to the seaside - yes, Fleetwood IS the seaside and I won’t hear anything to the contrary. I don’t care if you don’t know where it is.
The less said about the game the better, as it turned out. When Fleetwood eventually took the lead through a Rhys Norrington-Davies own goal I was genuinely questioning why I do this to myself. I wrote in the summer that one of my fears was that Wilder wouldn’t be able to recreate the same sort of magic he had previously, and given some of the comments from the away end in this game my fears were starting to look pretty well founded. A first shot on target after 85 minutes against League Two opposition summed it all up. 1-0 to the Cod Army. Out of the cup and out on our arse.
Overheard: “It’s okay Andy, it’s just bolognese!”
Stoke City.
There’s always another game. Unfortunately for us, this was the in-form Potters at the bet365.
I hate lunchtime kick-offs. What is the point? An away game that is 90 miles away shouldn’t mean you’re having to leave the house at the arse crack of dawn to get there to enjoy the pre-match frivolities. Not that there are many to be found in Stoke-on-Trent.
Anyway, this was it, the comeback game. A disappointing result against Fleetwood and an awful performance all would be put right against the Potters. Right?
Wrong. A superb bit of quality from Kalvin Phillips and United took the lead for the first time in the league this season, and whilst it might have been somewhat undeserved, it was a real moment to remember.
That bit of quality was outdone by two late Stoke City goals. A case of we’ve seen what you can do – we can do better, and somehow United found themselves staring another defeat in the face. 2-1 Stoke, and the general disgruntlement and anger amongst our fanbase became a little bit more prominent. Eight games in, and there’s definitely a few worrying signs so far.
So, not for the first time in my Blades-supporting life, I’m actually looking forward to a bit of time away from United over the international break.
See you at Bristol City.
