WILDER CLEARED DOG MESS FROM PITCH AS LAMPS LIT UP PREM
TWO DIFFERENT worlds collide at Stamford Bridge tomorrow when Chris Wilder and Frank Lampard shake hands before Sheffield United take on Chelsea.
No doubt Lampard will be dressed in a sharp suit costing an arm and leg (no pun intended).
Wilder, on the other hand, favours the more relaxed approach of tracksuit and T-shirt. He’s that sort of bloke. He would rather do his drinking in the King’s Head in his beloved Sheffield than on the King’s Road. Forget an expensive glass of red afterwards, all Lampard needs to crack open in his office is a cold beer.
The term chalk and cheese could have been invented for these two.
Lampard grew up the son of an England international and went on to win almost every honour in the game in a glittering career with the team he now manages.
He is married to TV presenter Christine Bleakley, has millions in the bank and sometimes spends his summers holidaying in the Mediterranean on one of his boss Roman Abramovich’s billion pound yachts.
Then there is Wilder. While Lampard has waited what seems like two minutes for his dream job, Wilder spent almost two decades earning the right to lead his boyhood club into the big time.
The chances are Lampard never had to clear dog dirt off a training pitch like Wilder had to during his time as Halifax Town boss in 2002, two weeks after the club dropped out of the Football League.
Lunch up on the moors back then was a cup-a-soup with a few slices of bread. He didn’t even know if the team bus would turn up. But Wilder loved it. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.
His apprenticeship also saw him manage Alfreton Town, Oxford and Northampton before the long road led to Bramall Lane, two subsequent promotions and a place at the top table of English football.
He made such an impact on Blades fans that one of them had a tattoo of his face inked on his hand.
Wilder has kept the same friends he had growing up and regularly goes to watch Sunday League football with them.
According to Lee Butler, his former assistant at Halifax, Wilder drinks ‘in the same sh***y pub he always has, because no-one treats him differently. He loves that.’
The unusual thing about him is he’s not unusual. He’s normal. He loves cricket and went to Lord’s to watch England win the World Cup. No-one recognised him. Perfect.
Football needs people like Wilder. Characters who appreciate what they have because it’s been earned the hard way.
He could be one of the last of a dying breed, a throwback to when footballing times were more genuine, so we should appreciate his time in the top flight.
When the Yorkshire press organise their annual Christmas bash, Wilder is the first to accept the invitation.
Certain others in his position wouldn’t give the media the time of day, but Wilder will continue to share a pint with some of those who shared his remarkable journey.
Success can change people, but not Wilder, which is something too many in the game cannot manage.
He could be forgiven for feeling a little out of place as he stands next to Lampard in glorified surroundings. But he shouldn’t.
No-one deserves to be there more than him.