Two Blunt teams share goalless draw at Bramall Lane

It's been a horrible week in the build up to this one. I barely slept the night before. I always get a bit flimsy before any Yorkshire derby, so that's nothing new, but this time, I really, really wanted us to beat these lot. It had been one of the first away fixtures I'd looked for when they were first announced, and I'd been counting down the days since.

Of course, recent meetings between us two have been bad-tempered (and that's being incredibly diplomatic), and Bramall Lane is a hostile enough place as it it, so I was expecting a full-blooded Yorkshire derby between two sides whose seasons have threatened to fizzle out in recent weeks, and it didn't disappoint in that respect.

For the second week in a row, I was on the receiving end of good luck messages from the Wendy in laws. Naturally, they'll cheer anyone against the Pigs, even us "dingle bastards" (their words, not mine), so yet again I found myself promising them that we'd give them something to cheer about. I don't know why I keep doing that, because I never truly believe it myself. The closer we'd got to this game, the less confident I'd been feeling. By Saturday morning, I had consigned myself to witnessing yet another derby defeat. There's been too many of them already since the start of 2010.

We had decided that getting the train through to Sheffield might not have been the smartest idea, so instead we got the train into Barnsley, and were travelling on the coach. The plan worked perfectly; we were in town in plenty of time, so after a quick bacon butty we headed to the Mount for a swift one (and it has to be one, since I've got a bladder the size of a walnut), before heading to Oakwell to board the coach.

Only, when we arrived at the ground, the coaches were nowhere in sight. I've got to say, I love Barnsley Football Club, but sometimes the words 'piss-up' and 'brewery' spring to mind. The funfair outside the Ponty End meant that the coaches had to find alternative routes into the East Stand car park, so at 12:45, when we should have been settling nicely in our seats ready to head off, we were wandering around the car park while the coaches circled the ground. And when they did eventually arrive at the East Stand (some from different sides) they circled the car park a couple of times too, followed blindly by us fans. A couple of times, they stopped, waited until everyone had gathered by the coach door, and then set off around the car park again. It was fantastic entertainment. I could have stayed in the car park all afternoon. Top stuff.

Anyway, with the coach drama finally over, we were on our way to Sheffield, the natural habitat of the Deedar. I don't know if the route into Sheffield was the normal one, but as we headed towards the city centre, the locals stopped what they were doing, transfixed by the fleet of coaches trundling by. I'd swear they've never seen a coach before. The ride through was pretty stress free, and we were soon inside Bramall Lane having a quick one before kick off.

I can't really make my mind up about Bramall Lane as a stadium. From the outside, it looks rather regimented. Inside, the view is great for the away fan. The stewards didn't seem to strict either, which I wasn't expecting. And thankfully, nothing seemed to be pelted from the upper tier either, which was nice of the home fans.

Watching the team come out for the warm up was rather worrying, since several regular faces were noticeably missing. We knew MR was struggling for fit players, but it was seeing some of the missing men like Disco and El Haimour warming up that hammered the point home.

Before the game, the screen to our left played a VT of the Blunts squad re-enacting the PE scene from Kes. Good film, although I'm not sure it was totally a coincidence that they chose to screen it against us. At least it gave the travelling fans a chance to get their first jeers in against Chris Morgan. There was plenty more to come throughout the game.

When the teams were read out, we hadn't even managed to fill the bench, a sign of the state the squad at the moment. The last few weeks have obviously taken their toll on the players, and hopefully we can have a couple of them back for Monday. The big news, however, was Hume was starting, which gave him the opportunity to line up against Morgan for the first time since his injury. It was to his credit that he was able to shake the hand of the Pigs captain, where most of us would have shook him by his neck instead.

The teams came out, and people began to try figure out who was playing where, to the back drop of that horrible 'Greasy Chip Butty' rubbish they sing before each game. Given that their fans take the piss out of us for singing 'It's Just Like Watching Brazil', I'd say they've got some nerve. It's cringe worthy.

I was buzzing now, and was ready for the kick off. For some reason, I was actually beginning to think we could beat them. We were certainly due something, and they were low on confidence at the moment. Sadly, we're also low on confidence, and that was something that was clear on both sides throughout the match.

In the first half, we absorbed a lot of pressure without ever really threatening the home goal. Hallfredsson looked good in patches, and was probably our most dangerous outlet. Typically, he picked up a knock right on half time and never recovered from it, being substituted just after the break. Despite being on the back foot, the lads played well and, aside from a couple of saves from Steele, neither side had done much by the time the referee blew the half time whistle.

During that first half, the ref had missed a few poor challenges on Gray, but his second half performance was much worse. His dismissal of Hume's claim that he'd been fouled by Morgan, who clambered up his back to gain enough leverage to win the header, was comical, with the referee running from 20 yards away, just to tap on his forehead a few times to signal that the ball had hit his head. I don't think any of us were claiming the ball had hit anything other than his head, more that he'd ridden Hume like a Blackpool donkey for it to do so. Sadly, that was one of many decisions which didn't go our way. Frankly, the less said about the drop ball in our box, the better.

In the second half, we were better, but still never looked like scoring. They missed a couple more decent chances, and shouted for a penalty whenever they got the opportunity. Of course, they would do after the return fixture at Oakwell last year. If Clattenburg had been in charge, they'd have won 4-0 yesterday. But we hung in there, and despite a few hairy moments, defended well as a unit and claimed our second clean sheet of the week.

Our MOTM was Moore, without question. Nobody played particularly badly, but Moore was a rock and dealt with every hoofed ball they threw at him. It was a convincing display by the big man. It probably helped that Jamie Ward went off injured, as he's the sort of player Moore struggles against. Once he was off the pitch, Moore never really looked flustered again.

In stoppage time, the referee did what he'd threatened to do all match and got his red card out, sending of Connolly for a second bookable offence. Most of us were amazed it wasn't one of our players, especially since quite a few had been sat on bookings for most of the game. It further served to highlight that the referee had never really had a grip on the match.

As the game drew to a close, and their lad had just been shown the red card, the Morgan/Coward banners came out in full force. I'm sure it will have hurt him, especially after reading his programme notes, in which he talked about how much he enjoyed playing against his home town club. That is only scant consolation though, given what has happened in past seasons.

The whistle blew, and it was a feeling of relief around the lower tier, as we'd hung on at times and battled to an impressive away point. It pays to remember how good Sheffield United are on their own soil, and it certainly isn't a bad result by any stretch of the imagination. That said, some people were still unhappy as we headed back to the coaches. If some of our fans were unhappy, it wasn't a patch on the home supporters. I didn't hear Radio Sheffield afterwards, but I'm told it's an entertaining listen. I just hope the fat guy who was walking through the away fans outside the ground shouting "You Barnsley bastards!" over and over got to have his say...

Back in Barnsley, the coaches were given an ovation from the roadside by a group of lads, who chanted 'Red Army' and applauded as we drove past. I'm not sure if they thought we were the team or what, but I enjoyed it all the same. They can't have been applauding us for making the journey, surely? It's only, what, 20 miles away or so? Not one of the worst trips of the season. I'm sure those who made the Plymouth journey midweek deserve it a lot more than us.

There was just enough time on the way home from Barnsley to stop off for a final pint of the day in Castleford, where we ended up alongside a couple of Leeds fans. They looked fed up, so I resisted the urge to ask them how they'd gone on. As if I didn't already know. It was one of the big talking points all the way home on the coach.

So overall then, a very good point at a very difficult place to go. Other results mean we've lost no ground on the other strugglers, and surely another win should make us safe for another season. It'll be sad if we are the team to relegate Peterborough, since it was one of my favourite away games this season, but it's a dog eat dog league and if sending them down goes towards keeping us away from the bottom three, then so be it.

And at least we're done with Yorkshire derbies for another season. I might finally get some sleep tonight.

Thanks for reading.