Sheffield Wednesday: The phrase ‘Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life’ isn’t always true

If you’d asked me at 14-years-old what I wanted to do as a job, I wouldn’t have been able to give a better answer than, ‘Writing about Sheffield Wednesday’.

Like many others my age, I knew already at that point that I wasn’t going to be good enough to play for them (or anybody else for that matter). To write for a living was my dream, and for the subject matter to be my football club was the ultimate goal.

It’s why, after over a decade away, I jumped at the chance to do exactly that a few years ago. I read The Star growing up, my grandad had it delivered until the day that he died, and knowing that he kept clippings of some of my articles from the paper is something that always warms my heart.

During my time covering Wednesday I’ve been lucky enough to write about some incredible moments, attend some phenomenal games, and meet many of my footballing heroes – both from my childhood and the modern day. I’ve had drinks with some of my club’s most memorable figures, and been in rooms that teenage me would never have believed. In so many ways I’ve lived the dream.

I feel incredibly privileged to do. I get to watch football for a living, and then write about it. I get to speak to great footballing minds, and consequently improve my own knowledge of the game that I love so much.

‘Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life,’ they say.

Except that’s not always the case. Over the past year or so especially, there’s been very little to love about this job, and a lot that not only felt like work – but was actively miserable. This isn’t a ‘woe is me’ piece, so please stick with me, but from a professional perspective the arse end of the Chansiri era has been the most difficult and draining of my career.

Hours of pouring through rules and regulations, thousands of emails and messages trying to understand the farce that was playing out in front of us all. Days spent trying to verify where pirate-esque chests full of gold and LinkedIn screenshots were real. ITKers having a pop myself and my colleagues in the media over something they’d heard from someone that was absolutely 100% true… When it wasn’t.

Zero points at Sheffield Wednesday. Image: Alex Young

But then came the light. The top-up of my battery, so to speak. Seeing those away ends, hearing those chants, watching the fanbase that I’m so proud to be a part of defy the misery thrust upon them to simply choose to enjoy what was left of a frankly horrific season.

The last 10 days or so completed the recharge. I’ve seen some big days at Hillsborough during my time as a Wednesdayite – from the stands and from the press box. But being there on Takeover Day was up there with the best. The atmosphere, the sense of rebirth, the coming together once more of a group of supporters who have been through the absolute wringer. Honolulu Wednesday. Wednesday are massive. That song with no words - I don’t even know if it has a name - that just took me back to being in the stands with my dad and grandad.

Thank you to everyone who came up to me over the last couple of weeks, who had kind words to say about The Wednesday Word, or came to thank me (and my counterparts) for what we’ve done over the last year. But honestly, if anybody needs thanking, it’s you lot.

The change enacted at Sheffield Wednesday is the result of a monumental collective effort. It doesn’t happen without the fans, or the Supporters Trust, or the 1867 Group, or the club staff, players and manager. It doesn’t happen, of course, without David Storch and Arise. No one person or group deserves more plaudits than another in my eyes, this football club has been given a fresh start because of every boycott, every letter and every person taking a stand. It’s a victory for all of us.

Then, to add to all that, Friday and Saturday was another shining example of what Wednesday is all about. I spent time talking to the likes of Sam Hutchinson, Steven Fletcher, Jack Hunt and so many others as they returned to raise money for the incredible Weston Park Cancer Charity, and the message was always the same…

“I loved it here, I still love it here.” Carlos Carvalhal said that practically all of them speak about their time at Hillsborough as the best of their careers. Thousands turned out for the dinner and charity game organised by the Community Programme, and in total tens of thousands of pounds will have been raised. Just Wednesdayites doing what Wednesdayites do.

I started writing this in an airport lounge after a few drinks, so forgive me if I’m a bit soppy, but the two weeks have been another reminder of what I’m so incredibly proud to be part of this family. I didn’t choose it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life,’ they say. Even though that’s not always true with Sheffield Wednesday, I still have the best job in the world. Up those zero point Owls.

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