No Yorkshire Delight but plenty to bask in

Obscure, bizarre and overwhelming are just a few adjectives to describe the feeling on Saturday when we arrived at the doorsteps of the beating heart of South Yorkshire, Sheffield. In many ways, this was the perfect setting to begin our adventure into the incongruous surroundings of League One, a city which I begrudgingly left only two months ago after finishing my studies. As familiar and acquainted as I am with the city, our 11:45 arrival to Sheffield train station led us to the ‘The Sheffield Tap’ situated at the station itself, a dainty little pub which I never got time to visit in my final year at University. This perhaps came at a relief to the ‘older’ acquaintances (I say this with much caution) who accompanied me as the initial plan was to drag them to my ex student haunts in the city centre. For the ale habitué among us, this was ecstasy with a wide selection of world beers and ales however the statement: “I just want a Fosters” sums up the other half’s mindset who hadn’t quite acquired the bitter taste, me being one of them. Fortuitously, a few of us stumbled onto a cherry beer which while perhaps a little quaint, was nonetheless lovely, therefore indefinitely ruling out stopping at any more watering holes.

Four cherry beers later and we were half an hour away from the new season, time to get a taxi to Hillsborough something I’ll probably never say again. After watching a billowing of blue and white shirts rush past it, the whole grandeur of the event was beginning to sink in, Dagenham and Redbridge at Sheffield Wednesday. Owl’s fans will no doubt look down on our starred eyed confoundment with a hint of condescension, however this is as good as it gets for our club. I imagine Wednesday fans hold their memories of Old Trafford and Anfield clenched tightly to there chests as they find themselves in the same domestic league as ‘minnows’ such as ourselves, I can imagine myself in ten years time doing a similar thing, incessantly telling anyone who wants to know that we played infront of 23,000 people once our mercurial rise has ceased (I’ve articulately side stepped the option of mentioning non-league here!). So while Wednesday fans may be quite flattered that we view the trip to Hillsborough in such a perplexed way, it is a million galaxies away from going to Leigh RMI and losing 2-1 on the opening day of the season in 2003 infront of 400 fans, one of the first seasons I started to follow Daggers away.

I therefore tried to take a lot of it in, I got myself a programme which I don’t do very often these days, slotted my ticket stub neatly into my back pocket and gazed at the stadium in tranquil silence at how far our club had come. However, Giles Coke and Clinton Morrison soon enough smashed this dumbness into pieces within 14 minutes as they stormed into a two-goal lead. After a quite assured first five minutes it seemed like apprehension and nerves had overcome the players rather than Sheffield Wednesday endeavour with two sloppy and avoidable goals. However as the game went on, the further we settled to our new surroundings and started to gain a foot hold in the game. League One football obstinately was a breeze for Vincelot who was imposing himself upon with the game with spells of elegant passing and assurance needed after such a shaky start. We matched Wednesday for large periods of the game, although It did lamentably feel like Sheffield Wednesday had dropped a gear to shun any kind of a comeback which they managed very effectively, Purse and Beevers were exceptional at the back and didn’t give our attack much of a chance except for Gain’s fluky attempted cross which nearly deceived Weaver in goal.

The final whistle was blown and I think most fans walked away quite happy that we weren’t overawed by producing a bold, credible performance in the second half. Infact, I think many left quite optimistic for the Exeter game on Saturday. Par Huddersfield and Southampton, this was undoubtedly of our toughest games of the season and we came out of it with immense dignity. The daunting gap in the gulf of football was certainly bigger than the one onto the train at Dagenham East station, Tudgay and Teale in particular indicated this with some deft touches and moves. However, we didn’t go there with the “Park the Bus” mentality that many other teams employ away at ‘bigger’ teams, we didn’t lump the football upfield or show any indication that gamesmanship or brutality was going to be our avenue to survival this year. We went there; we tried to attack and marginally lost in what was arguably quite a close encounter for most of the game. The game turned sour in the second half mainly because Doe and Arber were able to stifle Morrison and Tudgay, probably two of the best strikers we will be coming up against this season (Lambert and Barnard will be left toothless upfront against us of course!).

After a couple more cherry beers at t’tap, we were back on the train to London and managed to blag first-class seats after they buggered up the seating reservation which resulted in a merry trip home accompanied kit-kats, wine and some of Mark and Spencer’s finest Belgium lager. After a few more beverages in Russell Square and a staggered walk to my house at 1 in the morning. I was home with a cup of tea still shouting a resounding no to my drunk self that we will not get relegated this year, Bring on the Grecians.

Oh and Man of the Match for us was Vincelot by far, I’m starting to like the French.