Written at the end of the 90’s – Donny Rovers and Man City were indeed struggling – have a look at the leagues from that time. Interesting to see how some of the managerial bi names in here have fallen and risen over the past 13 years or so.
With the possible exceptions of Man City and Donnie Rovers there can be few fans born to suffer as we Wednesdayites. Even when it’s the summer we know that the pain isn’t going to stop...
Season 97-98, memorable only for the passing of Pleat and the second coming of Big Ron, ended not with a bang, not even with a dull thud, but with a whimper of the long expected defeat at Palace. We were safe, but surely that was the only crumb of comfort from a season of stale bread and had cheese.
Even so pretty much everyone was taken by surprise when Dave and the boys announced the non-renewal of BFR’s contract. Atkinson usually a man to take that sort of thing with a shrug and a grin came on uncharacteristically surly, and in an act well unworthy of him turned on Plumpy Kev, blaming a man who’ done a lot to keep Wednesday up for costing the club a fortune with his late slip up at Selhurst.
Ron had done a good job, even if he apparently only put in two days a week, but now Ron was Gone. We sat in the pub and smirked at each other, secure in the knowledge that to let Ron go, the Board must have someone else lined up. We waited for the announcement and the back page of the Star buzzed with anticipation. Richards wanted a continental style coach and a new style of managing (just why does everyone remember wonderful Wenger and not grim Gross?). We looked across the water and wondered.
Main name in the frame was Gerald Houllier, the French equivalent of Howard Wilkinson (“Merde, le jeu long ball!”). He was coming we were assured, but not until after the World Cup. A deal had been done and we all calmed down. Except that it hadn’t, then it had, then no-one really knew.
Cue the appearance of another name- Philippe Trousier – the French coach in charge of the South African Team. Our Philippe swept to the front of the queue by announcing to the world press that he had been appointed the new Wednesday manager. Not the case said an enraged Dave. Philippe was being a bit of a snake in the grass (a Trousier snake?) and no appointment had been made.
There was a danger of Wavy Davy looking like he was all mouth and no Trousier.
More weeks passed with the Frenchmen swapping places in the Star. We sat in the pub and all felt the familiar clammy hand fondling the backs of our necks. The same as when Wilkinson went, or Ron the first time, or Trev, or Pleat. We looked at each other –“no-one wants it”.
In mid June, Barry, who knows someone in the ticket office, assured us that only 3000 of the ‘justifiably increased’ season tickets had been sold. Everton sacked Kendall – I remember hearing the news on the Stocksbridge by-pass and groaning out loud. Not only might Wednesday be desperate enough to go for the hapless Howard, but he had also been on the verge of signing Pembridge.
But no, next step was Walter Smith. We debated his pedigree. All those titles with Rangers didn’t make him Arsene Wenger, blimey even I could manage Rangers to the top of the Scottish Premiership. But the deal was done and the press conference organised. And then just as Wily Walter was heading back north to break the news to his weans, some shifty scousers altered the points at Crewe and his train diverted to Merseyside. The rest is history.
As a parting shot to the smarting Wednesday Board, Smith delivered the quote of the season, “The fact I chose Everton speaks volumes. We sat in the pub and pulled sour faces. Even by Wednesday standards things had not been quite as bad as this?
Now right back at the start of this farrago we’d been asked who we wanted. “Danny Wilson” we chorused, before adding the verse of “but he won’t come ‘cos he’s pledged himself to Barnsley. But even as we blubbed in our beer, strange rumblings were afoot.
Out of nowhere Wednesday called a press conference. Overnight the world had changed and suddenly there was Sir Danbert with his Martin Platt accent and Dave’s besuited arm draped over his shoulder. We’ve (sort of) got our man. Barnsley had got bendy John Hendrie, and their Board had got enough compensation to buy a whole sty full of golden pigs.
So as season 98/99 grinds falteringly into life, a few things to ponder as you stare blankly at the purgatory that passes for half time entertainment at Hillsborough.
- What is the problem with Wednesday? Why aren’t classy top-class coaches lining up their Jags in Dave Richards’ driveway? The fans? No we’re rated amongst the best in the Premiership. The team? Good lads try hard, work for each other – seems unlikely it’s them. The area – don’t even think of it! So could it be the Board?
- Probably 70-80% of Wednesdayites including me) are well chuffed to get the boy Danny. But you have to be a bit sad that, certainly as far as Barnsley fans are concerned, he’s done a bit of a Ron-out on them. Lost his Premiership virginity so to speak (it gets better the next few times, Dan).
- Exactly how much did it cost to get Danny to change his mind and to get his discharge from the Barnsley army?
- How much damage has the delay done? Everybody else, even Charlton, were filling their boots with new signings during June and July while we lived with Ravy Dave’s edict of no business being done until the new manager was in post.
- From here on in are the Wednesday’s ambitions set any higher than just surviving year on year?
If there is a good positive way forward from here, a lot of us are sure we’ve got the right man for the job. On the other hand, Danny could end up being just the latest sap to drink from a poisoned chalice. One thing is certain, if he can’t pull it ‘round, Dave and the Board will make sure he gets the sack well before any blame can be attached to them.
We really hope you can sort it out Dan, we’re happy you’re here but you’ve got some bloody job to do.