Steve Harper had a quiet afternoon and for fifty-odd minutes of this game we were good value for 
the win and deserving of the eventual extent of the victory. However, between opening the scoring and the referee putting us out of our misery at half time we were as bleak, hesitant and generally arse-first as at any time in the post-Keegan, pre-Bobby Dark Ages.

Put simply, either the players didn't understand what Bobby was on about when he drew his little pre-match pictures on the blackboard, or he'd neglected to do anything about the little matter of the left wing, after having discharged Glass on compassionate leave. 

The anti-Italian faction in the Leazes (of whom I am a fully paid up member) were apoplectic as Alessandro Pistone hesitated on the halfway line and a succession of attacks fell down through lack of an overlap. 

However, for once the lad with the lassies hairband had some idea about playing the game rather than hiding (a la Keith Gillespie) and realised that behind him lay nothing except a lot of turf and Harper. 

By contrast, the right flank was like a Vicar's tea party, with "after you" the name of the game as messrs Gallacher, Solano and Dyer all hung around the touchline and Barton tried to gatecrash at every opportunity (attempting to get away from the lumbering Marcelino....)

Thankfully, a swift arse-kicking session during the interval saw Gallacher placed in front of Pistone for the second half assault, and within two minutes we had a lead that never really looked in danger thereafter. 

The usual flurry of late substitutes partially concealed the fact that people were again beginning to wander around again, but thankfully the fact that the visitors had nothing left to give energy-wise after 70 minutes meant that no "situations" developed.

Nevertheless, Bobby should be wise enough to heed the signs and in my jaundiced opinion needs to make a foray into the transfer market for the seemingly elusive left sided player craved by so many. 

Given the paucity of talent in Britain, it may well be that someone exotic is imported, but there is also a worry that another Glass-type player like Lua Lua gets a go. To be perfectly frank, Glass is too small and frail to play on a regular basis for a side as good as we want to be. It was evident that when we tried to play the Blades way, we more often than not struggled, especially at 1-1. 

Too often the inaccurate long ball from the halfway line to the off-the-pace Ferguson was an easy but unproductive way out, especially for the recently improved Barton. Someone with a bit of vim and vigour should have been able to open up the game in the way Pistone managed for the third goal. Maybe the return of Domi and fitness of some more centre backs might see the dreaded three centre backs surface (that Howey looked to be ok with when his mates Peacock and Albert were somewhat befuddled....)

By contrast, when we did work the ball around on the floor, Sheffield struggled to follow the play, and other teams may have been somewhat rougher in the tackle than they were. 

Both Solano and Dyer made good breaks into the area, but on this occasion the goals came from different sources, thankfully. I can confirm that notice has been lodged with the "Guinness Book of Records" regarding our corner & free kick/goal ratio. Never in all my born days have we scored as many goals via this source.....

It's always nice to taunt the opposition, no matter what grown ups like David Mellor may say, and the presence of a former mackem in the Blades ranks was eventually a pleasurable addition to the afternoon. 

After his early attempt at ruining the party, the second half goals brought forth choruses of "mackem, mackem what's the score ?" to silence the travelling supporters and their predictable "down with the Wednesday" taunts. 

As the ground emptied and Smith endured a final round of shouts, the PA announced his former beaus had fallen at Tranmere again, and the song was hastily revised to make score into a plural.