Welcome back to WWYATS?

The last printed Where were you at the Shay? was a celebration edition following Stan Ternent's championship in 1997. It was never meant to be the last one, it just sort of happened that way. We'd laughed and moaned through several seasons and when all of a sudden you've been to Wembley and then had two consecutive promotions it seemed a little churlish to keep complaining.

Of course if we'd known what was to follow we'd have probably kept going, two seasons in the (real) 2nd division - now the Championship to those of you under 15 - the fall of Hugh Eaves, SOS, administration, BASE (remember them?), relegations, not to mention the combined mismanagement of Messers Warnock, Preece, Barrow and Casper have all gone without the barbed but considered comment of WWYATS?

In the world of the internet it is difficult, if not verging on the impossible, to produce a football fanzine that is reactive to current issues and come up with a different view, as dozens of people will have posted their thoughts on the message board(s) of their choosing within moments of them becoming common knowledge.

Hopefully this blog will allow the old team to sharpen its claws again, without the need to stand outside Gigg Lane in all weathers working out if we've broken even on the latest edition, and maybe even allow a new contributor or two to raise their head and have a say. The old favourites will be resurrected and a few new ones developed, and there'll be an opportunity for some WWYATS? gold with some classics from the old fanzines posted up for your enjoyment again.

Thanks for visiting, please pop back regularly and enjoy the blog.

Up The Shakers.

Sunday 18 May 2008

Bradley Hardacre's Letter From Hungary

As some of you must be aware I've recently become the Blades' pioneer in Magyar land.

Just thought I'd drop you a line to let you know how our Empire is progressing out here.It's certainly an honour to be given the chance to help a people still emerging from decades under the Stalinist yoke.

And it was a blessed relief to be sent here and not Chendzu, with surveillance under the bog seat, pollution blocking out the sun and everyone spitting in the streets.And all those bloody bikes.I was a bit let down to see that the Danube isn't really blue at all, more a sort of grey colour, like the water in the bottom of the wife's mop bucket. Still, its a more graceful stretch of water than the Sheaf or the Wicker.

"Watch out for those Magyar mammaries" said McCabe as he waved me off at Doncaster Robin Hood airport. By 'eck, he wasn't joking. Brings back memories of Matron Braithwaite ..perhaps the only saving grace of those grim days at school. Bobby Davison's eyes have been on stalks ever since he arrived. Lets just say he hasn't lost his scoring knack yet...

Curative therapies are cetainly a bit of a Budapest speciality, as I found out on my first visit to the Gellert Turkish baths last week. Had my legs wrapped back over my shoulders and came out feeling as supple as Olga Corbutt. Takes a while to get used to being man-handled by a great moustachioed hairy Hungarian,but in a way it's not dissimilar to a visit to Caesar's Emporium back in Sheffield !

Thats all for now. Keep a look out for the Green Eagles!

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