The weekend that showcased the bursting soul of creaking old Sheffield Wednesday
Sunday evening saw the third edition of Barry Bannan’s charity night in aid of Sheffield Children’s Hospital. It was the biggest yet - and showcased the very best of what it is to be Wednesday. Alex Miller reports.
It was a weekend that burned through the pain and suffering at Sheffield Wednesday for just a few moments at a time; a few snapshot, piercing reminders of what the club truly is beyond the shabbiness and the endless beatings and the overwhelming, knot-in-the-stomach uncertainty over what on earth comes next.
Endless sing-songs from the T1 in a by now routine 3-1 home defeat to Southampton came first, a sense of defiance palpable alongside an exhaling acceptance that, actually, the bulk of the Wednesday fan base really weren’t convinced by the stewardship of poker players and crypto kings no matter how much it tried to convince itself otherwise. For the first time in weeks, Hillsborough rang out proud on Saturday, sticking out its collective chest and roaring in snarling spite of a 12th league defeat on the spin.
The short-term fortunes of this ailing institution are real, they are serious and they will take a monstrous and expensive effort to turn round. But the scorelines merely sit at the centre of something bigger, louder and more important. Sheffield Wednesday may be on life support, but its heart is still pumping away in double time.
On Saturday, that heart was dressed in Stone Island and wore an exuberant, boisterous face of youth. On Sunday, it was a little older, draped in tablecloths and suit jackets as Barry Bannan’s third annual charity night rolled around to support another one of the city’s grand institutions; Sheffield Children’s Hospital.
The work those connected with both football clubs in this city do for their respective charities is remarkable and speaks to the important civic role this daft old sport plays in its communities. Guests heard the mission statement of the evening; to support a game-changing and pioneering youth mental health initiative to be rolled out across the country, one boldly born in the Steel City. It feels to be a timely push in a world increasingly difficult to navigate for young people and for a moment put the grind of a failing football club into cold perspective. Frankly, some things do matter more.
Once again the event pulled together the great and good of Sheffield Wednesday and spotlighted the immense talent it houses. Reverend and the Makers frontman Jon McClure belted out Wednesday tunes on guitar and Royal Oak FC assistant manager Steve Bracknall held the evening together on the mic. The pair appear to have grown close.
The evening has attracted arts talent few clubs’ fanbases could match. Last year saw members of Pulp and the Arctic Monkeys come along and this year too, the global award-storming producer of Adolescence Mark Howard among the revellers as well as Sheffield stuff of legend Pete McKee, whose work provides the very colour of the city. Lesser-known faces sat elsewhere but held similar talent; business leaders, politicians, sportspeople, Trust members who fought tooth and nail to keep the thing breathing.
And then of course there were the football folk. Liam Palmer and Henrik Pedersen represented the current crop with distinction, both taking to the stage at different points with the Dane extolling the pride he has in leading this behemoth in such desperate times - but also speaking of the importance of the cause of the evening with huge gravitas. Pierce Charles and Giles Coke were there too, along with other members of the wider backroom staff.
David Hirst arrived as a guest and held court, providing a snapshot memories of Wednesday at its very greatest. Keiren Westwood, Daniel Pudil and Jack Hunt arrived as representatives of Bannan’s almost-glorious first iteration of Wednesday as well as then-skipper Glenn Loovens, who flew in from abroad to support both his mate and the charity. Lee Gregory and Cam Dawson were the faces of sunny Wembley triumph, Lee Bullen the sole Cardiff King.
Perhaps the most touching appearances were those of Harry Amass and Shea Charles, schedules opened-up by injury and fixture luck but no doubt proud to make the appearance as short-term heroes of Hillsborough. There’s something in the way both young men appear to have carried Wednesday so closely - along with a deep respect for Bannan too, of course.
There’s definitely something in that football club. It’s unquantifiable, a spirit, heritage and a charm to the bastard old thing and the people who hold it dear. The fortunes of those two young men are heading in a different direction to that of Wednesday but its a place they’ll always hold dear, it seems. There’s something in it.
It’s in the way the football club claws you in. It’s been felt by footballers from far afield who have settled here long since retired; Waddle, Palmer, Sheridan et al. They all played for other big clubs in other big cities but something brought them back here. It’s been felt by everyday newcomers to the city and those who moved away, Wednesday providing the heartbeat sound to follow on the route home every other weekend. If not too self-indulgent, I dare say it’s been felt by a podgy journalist from Bradford, too.
Or perhaps it’s all football clubs. Perhaps it’s merely the attachment to the increasingly rare thing of shared human experience and the emotional outlet sport provides. Perhaps this ramble is more old, overly-romanticised, overly-sentimental Sheffield Wednesday guff. But this weekend, in the midst of a year most horrible, came something a bit special from the T1 block and the OEC events space. That it was built around a Millwall midfielder mattered not a jot - because like those legends of yesteryear, he and his family also call this daft old club home too.
Sheffield Wednesday is a hot mess. It’s a creaking, groaning old relic clinging on to an image of football how it was. It needs modernising, nurturing and rescuing to better health. Its body is in tatters but its soul remains in those that surround it.
It can be rehabilitated. Whoever gets hold of this husk bears a heavy responsibility to those who continue to so proudly preserve it.