Wednesday 'till I Die

One match I will always remember was at Hillsborough in April 2004. I had been living in Japan for the 2 years previously and was really excited to be going back to see the mighty Owls, even though we had dropped into League 1. I remember really looking forward to it, seeing the fans and feeling the atmosphere at Hillsborough again. I felt pretty much the same sort of excitement that I did on Saturday.

It wasnt until I was sat in a half empty stadium that reality set in. The Attendance was 20,464, it was still possible for us to get relegated into oblivion and there were angry chants toward Dave Allen and the board. It was horrible, and that was before we lost 0-1 to Colchester. I walked away from that match bitterly disappointed, and wondering what had happened to my club.

One thing that really haunted me that day was the chant 'Wednesday 'till I die', it was pretty much the only chant that the fans could seem to be able to muster up in such depressing circumstances.
It wasn't a song that day, it was more of an angry statement about an affliction we all had, a cross to bear for the rest of our lives but one that we were used to, and had come to terms with. Like parents of a delinquent child we wanted to show that no matter what, no matter how much heartache it would cause, we would love Sheffield Wednesday forever.

 Its amazing to think that just 8 years ago everything was so different.

When I got into the ground on Saturday I was ecstatic; seeing the inflatables and the full stadium, feeling the atmosphere, hearing the singing - everything was just magical.

Just before kick off my eyes filled up as the enormity of it all set in. I'm an optimistic (you know that because you know I'm a Wednedayite) but for a minute the realist in me came out - we still had to win a game.

In that moment I just wanted to cry; for everyone celebrating before they had reason to,  for the players who would walk out and realise the pressure they were under, and  for the 2 young lads in front of me, knowing that they already had inherited the Sheffield Wednesday gene. Of course I didn't allow myself cry, I was fully in control of my emotions, and instead I sang, cheered, clapped and bounced.

Like everyone, I was really caught up I the euphoria of the day and there's no way I could try to describe what happened or how. I remember doing my individual uncontrollable thing we all do when a goal like that goes in. I then remember screaming as I saw the 'shhhhhhhhh' on the scoreboard. The tears were just streaming down my face at this point, and the rest is pretty much an ecstatic haze.

Our players weren't just footballers on Saturday, they were heros who played their hearts out for the fans. They soaked up the atmosphere when they could have let nerves taken over, they showed us they knew exactly what it meant to us when they could have just played for their wages, and they celebrated with us, as if they were the biggest fans in the stadium.

The day was perfect in every way and I know how much it meant to every single Wednesdayite around the world. I think we were all touched by the Wycombe supporters ("this city is yours"), and the supporters from around the UK who have since congratulated us on our promotion. That sort of thing just won't happen in the battle for the premiership. 

So now we are in the Championship, we have a brilliant manager, we have learnt to trust Milan, and he has declared willingness to spend over the summer. Things are so much better now and I love the positive feel around the club at the moment - it genuinely makes me believe we could be back where we belong in the not too distant future.

We have all had some pretty miserable times at Hillsborough, and even though Cardiff in 2005 was amazing, it was so good to have a party like that in our very own fortress. Personally, my favorite part of the day was hearing the fans singing 'Wednesday 'till I die'. The singing on Saturday seemed like a million years away from that miserable day in 2004. This time it was sang, not chanted, and with a completely different meaning. This time we sang it whilst positively beaming with pride.

Promotion, Angels and Curses

Automatic promotion, curses and angels

I’m a teacher (keep reading, I know it’s a terrible start but it gets better), it’s the Easter holidays, so what more is there to do except to worry about not getting automatic promotion? But its not just about getting automatic promotion anymore is it? It’s so much more important than that, it’s about pride, dignity and showing everyone once and for all that this city is ours.

So I have been thinking (worrying) about Sheffield Wednesday probably a bit too much lately, until yesterday that is, when an angel (again, please keep reading it gets better) came to my door. It wasn’t a white dainty feather winged angel that I may have preferred, but nevertheless it was an angel, who told me in no uncertain terms that Sheffield Wednesday will get promoted. The ‘angel’ was an unshaven white van man who was delivering a parcel and passed the information onto me when he spotted the Sheffield Wednesday dog bowl next to the front door, but it was still extremely reassuring and made me feel very happy.

The problem we have now is that automatic is not in our hands anymore. We can win all our remaining games and we all know that we can, which means that our fate is in the hands of the enemy and all we can do is sit back and hope they slip up (like they usually do!). I am putting all my faith in MK dons who will have everything to play for and who could do us the favour we are all desperate for. Although I can’t help imagining how if we’d beaten them 10-0 in January we wouldn’t be in this mess.

So, worst case scenario –  they manage to keep up their current form, well then we’ve got a day out to Wembley!  Remember the magic of Cardiff? I would never have given up that day for automatic promotion -admittedly because of the wonders of hindsight, but also because it truly was an amazing day, everyone singing their hearts out and bouncing in the sun was something we’ll never forget (was it sunny? In my mind it was but I am very aware that it could have been raining that day)

Imagine having that day again but at Wembley, the nation watching as the mighty Sheffield Wednesday get a step closer to the league we all know we belong in. All the pain of not getting automatic promotion will be quickly forgotten and we can thank the Blunts in advance for an easy 6 points next season.

We may have the curse of being 3^rd in the league but curses (unlike angels I hasten to add) are nonsense – look what we just did to the ‘curse’ of manager of the month and the ‘curse’ of being live on Skysports. The fact is we will be going into the playoffs as the strongest side and the most on form side (at time of writing!) and that play off final, just like the city of Sheffield, will be ours.

So, the angel/white van man is right - we are going to get promoted this year and it really is a win-win situation. If we don’t get automatic promotion we get a day out in Wembley and we have next season to prove that there’s only one team in Sheffield. If we do get automatic promotion we not only get the bragging rights but the pleasure of watching the Blunts crumble under the pressure of the play offs (again!) and we can look forward to a season of patronising and laughing at the pigs (again!).

Keep bouncing x

Welcoming Dave Jones

After the announcement that Gary Megson had been sacked, I think it’s fair to say we have all been on an emotional rollercoaster. 

No one likes change, it’s basic human nature and basic Wednesdayite nature that we should be absolutely gutted that yet another manager has left. But we should be welcoming with Dave Jones with our open blue and white arms. We should be excited, optimistic and looking forward to the championship next year, if only because we don’t have an option.

I’m not going to bore you with science, but according to the Kubler Ross Grief Cycle there are seven stages we go through when given bad news, and seven emotions that I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling since I heard about Gary Megson.

First we all experienced the shock stage, not after Sunday? surely he hasn’t really been sacked? (and did anyone else find out in the exact same minute that Sheffield United equalised against Scunthorpe?) Life can be so cruel sometimes.

Then there’s the denial stage. Admittedly I must have checked every sports news internetpage I could find before finally realising it was true. In my panic I remember thinking how people are always making things up on twitter, the BBC coverage was vague which made me suspicious, and the Sky Sports report just didn’t ring true.

When it did sink in I got to the anger stage, there were words unsuitable for this blog and I pretty much threw a Owlshulk type tantrum while the husband made a timely exit to pour me a well needed Gin and Tonic.

After that comes the bargaining stage. This is when you try in vain to find a way out, even though you’re sat on a sofa in Leeds watching the ‘Kick an Ann while shes down’ Holland goals against England. I knew I couldn’t bargain, but it was vaguely comforting to see the #getmegsonback tweets, and desperate Facebook pleas to get him back.

After these stages we reach the depression stage – final realisation of the inevitable. This is when we all moped at work on Thursday and those disappointing results, the easy goals from set pieces, the last minute goals etc had all been forgotten and no one could see a way forward without Gary Megson.

The penultimate stage is called the testing stage, when we seek realistic solutions. Didn’t we all Google Dave Jones, Lee Clarke, Billy Davies any anyone else we could think of as if we all had some sort of decision to urgently make?

The last stage is acceptance, which is where I am now at.

Dave Jones is a brilliant manager – automatic promotion and League Cup semi finals with Stockport, Promotion with Wolves and an FA Cup final and a 47% win record over 16 years with Cardiff. These are exciting times at Hillsborough, our new DJ is going to get us promotion this year and we should all be looking forward to a really good (Championship) season next year.  Sunday showed us all the fight and passion that is at our amazing club and having a passionate and dedicated manager is only going to help us. It’s time to accept this decision and to start loving the DJ, let’s keep bouncing, singing our hearts out for the lads and get welcoming Dave Jones to his barmy army.

Obsessive Wednesday Disorder

I'm not nervous about Sundays game, in fact I'm quite confident that we will win.

I stopped being nervous earlier this week whilst looking at the league table and this weekend's fixtures. It suddenly occurred to me that I don't need to be nervous because I'm going to make us win. 

Some call it being superstitious but I do actually control Sheffield Wednesday and I have already started the ball rolling to ensure we win. 

I quite often see magpies on the way to work, obviously I salute them and tell them where I'm going but it still gives a sense of uneasiness. Not this week though. This week I have tried my best to stop using my peripheral vision when driving so that I won't have to see these symbols of potential defeat on Sunday. I do not advocate this, it is dangerous and stupid, but sometimes you have to take one for the team. The good news is I have managed to avoid seeing these birds so far, and that has made me start to feel a little bit confident.

On the big day I plan to wake up in my SWFC pyjamas, shower and dry myself in my SWFC towel, wear my owl knickers, owl dress, owl socks, owl necklace and owl brooch, use my owl lip balm, check it looks OK in my SWFC mirror, eat breakfast from my SWFC bowl, drink from a SWFC mug and then set off to the match. I will have to do random things that my Obssessive Wednesday Disorder makes me do, eg. jumping at random times, touching certain objects, guessing the time and getting it right etc. I will have to do the rituals that all sensible Wednesday fans do getting to the ground: leaving the house on my right foot, chasing after black cats in the neighbourhood, not walking on the cracks in the pavement, touching certain signs etc.I could go on but I wouldn't want to look weird.

The tricky bit is in the ground when I will have make contact with the grass, I usually get off lightly by being very apologetic and acting naive (I hate it when there are female stewards about), and on the occassions when I have got a photo with a player they always have a brilliant game. I will also have to eat a Mr Tom bar (shirt sponsors 1991/92) at half time - the last essential ritual  that has been known to save the day when all else fails - remember October? Yep, all down to the Mr Tom.

Whilst looking at the league table and the fixtures I worked out what would happen if things don't go our way this weekend, and I mean the worse case scenario. I don't know why I did this, It was like being one of those people who stops to look at car crashes and I instantly regretted it.

I stopped being nervous at that point, and the terror set in. Unfortunately I'm not looking forward to the game, even though I think we'll win. Yes it will be an amazing atmosphere and I'll be sat with the greatest fans in the world, its just that I'll be biting my nails (runining my lovely blue and white nail polish), and I cant stand Mr Tom bars.