Saturday marks the first anniversary of Sheffield Wednesday entering administration - the first step away from the crisis of Dejphon Chansiri. Our man Alex Miller writes to remember the fortnight that was.

Whispers had been rumbling for a few days but after a number of false starts, it was difficult to fully believe. Messages to sources went unanswered and though it felt as if things were coming to a head, you could never count on logic where the subject was Dejphon Chansiri.

It was October 2025 and while held together by undervalued staff and a defiant support, Sheffield Wednesday was a football club left to rot. Approaches to buy the club in the months gone by had been rebuffed or had proven to be a waste of time and intermediaries trying their hand at facilitating a deal had long grown tired. Months before, administration had been regarded as an unlikely option - why would he accept a return of 25p on the pound where he could surely sell the club for more?

But this was Chansiri. And as time moved on, as his desperate efforts to raise cash had gone unanswered and as financial pressures grew, word had filtered to The Star that something was afoot.

It was early evening on Friday October 10 that sourced confirmation landed, via WhatsApp and while sat on a bench at a train station, that formal discussions over administration were taking place and furthermore that Chansiri was likely to have to let go of the football club once and for all barring something remarkable taking place. The Star were informed alongside BBC Sheffield, who had too been making enquiries.

It later became clear that the process had been in motion for two days, since October 8, with Chansiri having instructed legal representatives to engage in a meeting with insolvency specialists at Begbies Traynor LLP after HMRC had threatened the club with a winding-up petition. For some weeks it had been clear that debts held to a guarantee by Chansiri himself, against Hillsborough stadium, were to be called-in after years of roll-over with interest.

With little money coming into the club thanks to the boycotts, it had left him with nowhere to go and administration, finally, was imminent. The next week, poised for the news to drop at any moment day or night, The Star arranged to stay in the city overnight on consecutive nights so as to be within striking distance of the story.

And yet he held on. And on. And on. Acting against legal advice, the weekend passed without Chansiri returning vital documentation. On Monday he requested a meeting with HMRC, which was pushed from morning to afternoon. Discussions continue through Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, when national media duly report HMRC’s involvement.

We were able to follow that story in with further detail but herein lay the personal quandary for local reporters sat on one of the biggest stories their patch would see for some time, the culmination of a year or more at the coalface of crisis.

On confirming the situation to The Star and BBC Sheffield, sources made clear that the situation was volatile, that Chansiri was acting particularly unpredictably and that reporting the story before it was official could scupper the whole thing. So childish he was, his particular distaste for the local media made this all the more dangerous, it was suggested. Against professional instincts and in hope that the club could finally get the shot at a fresh start it so badly needed, we heeded the warning and agreed to sit tight.

On Thursday October 23, the day after a fan boycott protest had seen images projected onto the back of a barren Kop and Hillsborough near-empty, Chansiri agreed to place the club in administration. The news had filtered out on social media and in some reports by media colleagues unaware of the warnings we’d been given. Sat in Hillsborough car park from 8.30am the next morning on what would later become known as ‘Administration Day’, the reports kept coming but until the sealed documents were back from court, the outcome wasn’t confirmed. In for a penny, we waited still.

At a minute past midday, the documents were returned and Sheffield Wednesday were officially in administration. Stories pre-prepared some days earlier were posted and frustration made way for adrenaline.

Hot-footing it to the entrance to the stadium, fans pipped horns in celebration as we set our equipment. Staff came out to speak to us, off the record, their heads clearly spinning having been addressed by the administrators not long before. For so long beaten by crisis and devoid of timely payment so often, their mood was of cautious optimism; excited at the opportunity for the club to move to a better place but wary of the unknown.

Having balanced laptops on a wall outside the ground, we were invited to work from within the stadium as Wednesday carried out pre-match press conferences of truly unique themes. While writing up Barry Bannan’s response to the news, administrator Kris Wigfield invited us to take a look at something. What we saw will live vivid in the memory for some time.

Making the trudge up the steps from the South Stand concourse into the chilly Hillsborough air, our eyes were directed to the western side of the North Stand in front of us. The seats spelling Chansiri’s name were being torn out.

The mind’s eye flickered to the months gone by; to protests and the effort and the worry of supporters to whom Sheffield Wednesday is a pillar of their lives. It flickered to conversations with the loved ones of staff at the club, whose very livelihoods came under question. It flickered to the lads in a booth at The Howard pub a few days earlier, who I’d heard discussing what it would be like to follow Wednesday as a phoenix club. It was an emotional indeed and still raises goosebumps.

Administration day was, in many ways, administration fortnight. And it was a privilege to be there.