Madrid and Sheffield - A Tale Of Two Cities.

Sandygate's welcome plaque

In football one of the highest accolades that can be bestowed on a football club is the FIFA 'Order of Merit'. It is not won in competition or for scoring the most goals. It is an award bestowed by FIFA on a select few for their contribution to the game. Only two clubs have ever received it – the mighty Real Madrid and Sheffield FC who play their football in the First Division of the Evo Stick (South) League. Madrid were awarded the honour in Paris in 2004 as the most successful football team of the past 100 years. On the same evening Sheffield received the award for its historic importance and contribution as the world’s oldest club. The Club Chairman, Richard Timms, collected the award alongside the legendary Alfredo di Stefano of Real. Madrid play at the Bernabeu Stadium in front of 80,000 plus spectators week after week. Sheffield play at the Coach and Horses Ground (the rear of the pub forms one side of the ground) in Dronfield on the outskirts of Sheffield. Their  'gate' is usually 200-300.

A pre-match line up

I mention all this merely as an introduction to my Bank Holiday Monday outing.

A few days previously, like millions of others across the world I had tuned in to watch the European Cup Semi Final between Real and arch enemies Barcelona. Apart from two wonderful goals from Lionel Messi, Barcelona’s star player, the match – or rather Madrid’s contribution to it was a disgrace. It represented all that was so very bad about modern football. Some of the alleged greatest players in the world strolled around the pitch clearly under the impression that they were thugs and assassins - fully paid up members of the mafia. And masterminding it was the self proclaimed 'special one' Jose Mourinho, manager of Madrid – his scowling face, pouting lips and 'clever Dick sarcasm' looking increasingly pathetic - clearly he is under the illusion that he is a sort of footballing mafia Don Corleoni. It was such a shame to see a once great side reduced to this. Real’s player list is a footballing 'Who’s Who': Di Stefano, Puskas, Gento, Sanchez. Beckham, Zidane, Figo, Ronaldo, Carlos, Kaka, Raul....... . But in latter years and especially under Mr Mourinho’s stewardship they have lost their way and become, as with so many clubs – most notably our own Manchester United – just a trophy winning machine where results, victory at any price and competitive aggression (both physical and verbal) is of greater value and worth than sportsmanship and fine play.

Goalmouth action

But on Monday all was different. I saw real football (not Real football!) I saw football which was, by coincidence, rightly described in the programme as 'the game in its purest terms' .

The game was between Hallam FC and Sheffield FC and was played at Hallam’s ground, Sandygate, in  Sheffield. Sheffield FC are the world’s oldest football club (founded in 1857) and Hallam the second oldest. Hallam’s ground is the oldest football ground in the world. The two clubs first met in 1860 - the year Hallam were founded - and played in the very first inter-club football match anywhere in the world. The Bank Holiday Monday game celebrated Hallam’s 150th anniversary and that very first 'derby' – a game which is regarded in footballing circles as the oldest inter club game anywhere in the world.

The Hallam stand 

About 500 turned up to the ground. Many had travelled from around the UK and as always at Sandygate everyone got a warm welcome. In brilliant sunshine the two teams played out a hugely entertaining game. Hallam were the underdogs – sadly, they have just been relegated this season to Division 1 of the Northern Counties East League but they promise to return to the Premier Division twelve months hence. Sheffield were the favourites, they played in Northern Counties until three or four seasons ago but have since had a successful run and now play further up the footballing pyramid. Sandygate has a slope so the ball always tends to run downhill towards the cricket square and in the first half Hallam were on the receiving end but despite considerable Sheffield pressure the half ended goalless. In the second half it was finely balanced and with about 15 minutes to go Hallam scored a super goal – the ball blasted home from about 20 yards. It was a goal that would have pleased the crowd at the Bernabeu! Sheffield, however fought back and in minutes were level and then with about 5 minutes to go grabbed the winner. Probably a fair result, but although a wonderful trophy went to the winner, no one was concerned. Football had won not Sheffield FC. There was no bad language, no pouting, no aggression towards the referee’s decision, no baying crowd, no managerial rants a la Ferguson or Mourinho,  no sour grapes. The teams clapped each other, the crowd clapped all and many smiling faces trooped out of the little ground – and I suspect everyone knew they had had a good afternoon in the sun.

A few days previously I had read in the paper that Sheffield FC  are auctioning their handwritten copy of the original rules of football and this is expected to realise  over a million pounds. These were the rules that our current game was modelled on a century and a half ago. And not to be outdone, some months ago Hallam were bequeathed a significant legacy when a local supporter passed away. The money I understand is to be used to provide improved facilities at their ground.

Sheffield receive the trophy

And this is the reality of real football. Not the commercialism, the 'hospitality suites', the chanting baying crowd. Not the foul mouthed  antics of immature spoiled little boy footballers or the  rants of overpaid and rather nasty men who manage teams. No, real football is about sportsmanship. About people – real fans - coming together on a Saturday afternoon and standing shoulder to shoulder with fans of the other  team rather than in segregated areas. It is about smiling faces at the end of a game not scowling, pouting lips of the Mourinho type. As I paid my entry I had a word with the gateman. 'You're not from round here' he smiled and I shamefacedly confessed to him that I had come from Nottingham and that I was a supporter of Arnold Town. Only a few days before we had played Hallam in a crucial relegation decider and beaten them – Arnold 'stayed up', Hallam were relegated. But I received no scowl, no abuse, no snide comment about being lucky or dirty or the referee being unfair – no,  just a joking 'Oh I’m not sure that we can allow you in', a warm smile and a 'well done you deserved it'.

Have a safe journey home

 And that was what I enjoyed on Monday at Sandygate – real football played and enjoyed by real people.

Prophetically, the programme notes reproduced the original match report from that very first derby between the two clubs in December 1860 – the first ever organised club football match. It said   '......Sheffield Football Club v Hallam.....was played on Wednesday upon Hallam cricket ground in the presence of large numbers of spectators....the spirit exhibited by those present prevented the game from flagging or becoming uninteresting to the observers who were very liberal with their plaudits.......It would be invidious to single out the play of any particular gentleman, when all did well, but we must give the palm to the Sheffield players as being the most scientific .....the game was conducted with a good temper and in a friendly spirit – and when darkness closed upon the scene the Sheffield club....counted two goals to nothing, and went home fully satisfied with their victory'  As the programme further pointed out: 'By 1863 when Hallam won the world’s first football trophy there were 22 clubs just in Sheffield and after a century and a half of football clubs being formed and disbanded, slipping into oblivion or going on to glory and supplying  talent to the county, national and international teams; becoming multi million pound commercial  behemoths.... the two oldest clubs are still going strong in the same city....'

The programme cover

 And as I stood on the same piece of ground looking out over the same pitch and down to the cricket square that still shares the site with the football club I felt a link with those Victorian Sheffield gentlemen of the past and deep down  a sadness at what we have perhaps lost. The sporting nature of the reporting, the language used, the implicit fairness and lack of unnecessary hyperbole, the calmness and gentleness of it all was a far cry indeed from the reporting and game of today.  I don’t somehow think that Wayne or Sir Alex or Jose and their like would have felt very comfortable either then or now standing by my side. On Monday I was watching sportsmen and surrounded by a sporting, knowledgeable crowd  not violent, uncouth bigots who seem to be so much part of the dark world  inhabited by Rooney, Mourinho, Ferguson, and their like and which typifies so much of professional football. I was watching young men enjoying a game, a pleasurable and healthy pastime - for that is what any sport is, no more, no less - it is not a battle or a war. Contrary to what Bill Shankly said thirty or more years ago football is not more important than life and death. It is, or should be, just an enjoyable pursuit, to be remembered fondly for its skill (think of what the 1860 match report said praising the 'most scientific'), its endeavour, its sportsmanship, its pleasurable entertainment for both players and watchers. I often wonder what pleasure do Alex Ferguson or Wayne Rooney actually get out of a match when all they do is complain, scream and moan?

Inside the programme

In his book 'A Tale of two Cities' that great Victorian Charles Dickens began the story with the immortal words 'It was the best of times the worst of times' when he described the age and the prevailing situation in London and Paris at the outbreak of the French Revolution. As I left Sandygate on Monday I mused 'what if  Dickens had been a football supporter and reporter at the Bernabeu and one of those Victorian gentlemen who witnessed that first football match at Hallam a century and a half ago?' He might have opened his match reports on these two games with exactly the same words - 'It was the best of times, the worst of times....'! Sufficed to say for a couple of hours on a lovely afternoon I was involved with being part of a game, a  sport, an enjoyable activity not simply getting a win at any cost and what I was part of in Sheffield will give me fonder memories than what I had witnessed in Madrid a few days previously.