‘By now I’m shaking…’ – How Tommy Craig endured Sheffield Wednesday’s play-off madness

I just wanted to share my experience of this incredible week… Despite what I do for a living I don’t do/appear on social media, so this is unusual for me – but as I’ve just been devouring everything online in relation to the utter madness of last night, I just felt I had to commit my thoughts and experience of the last week into print.

Back in early March, when it appeared that we would go up automatically, I agreed to go on my mate’s 60th birthday/stag trip to Ypsos in Corfu. The 11th-15th May. Why anyone would want to get married age 60 is beyond me, but that’s a different story…

Having booked the trip, a few days later I was informed by my employers in Canada that I would be needed in Toronto on May 17^th to resume filming of the Canadian TV show, Murdoch Mysteries, that I’ve been a part of for the last 16 years. It’s a very fortunate and privileged job that I’ve been lucky enough to be doing since 2007.

Over this time period I’ve had to watch many big Wednesday games far away from home, and in all manner of unusual locations… The main one that springs to mind is filming in some obscure Ontario field in the middle of nowhere the night that we beat Arsenal, and the only place where I could get reception was in the make-up wagon.

During a brief lull in filming I FaceTimed my son back in London, who was watching the game at home with his mum & sister, and he turned the phone around to show me the TV. The remarkable happened as Ross Wallace opened the scoring, and suffice to say I was bouncing off the walls of the wagon in front of three bemused make-up ladies.

I digress, back to Corfu.

Having landed I was met with weather that was more akin to Manchester, a veritable dump of a hotel and with the forecast looking miserable for the whole weekend, the only bright spot appeared to be the first leg, which we decided to watch in Tiffany’s Bar – the namesake of a famous old Sheffield nightclub. The Omens appeared good.

How wrong can you be?! My mate and his pals were Colchester fans, and were very sympathetic to our plight, so graciously they didn’t take the mickey.

That night I couldn’t get drunk no matter how much I consumed, and so I retired to my dump of a room at the lowest ebb that I’ve ever felt after watching Wednesday… Sleep refused to come and I just couldn’t get the game out of my head.

I flew home to London on the Monday, and the next day I was on another plane on my way to Toronto to start work on the Wednesday.

Prior to the first leg I was bemoaning my bad luck that I wasn’t going to be able to attend the play-offs, but Thursday arrived and I was scheduled to be in every scene of the day with not a lot of free time between set ups and scenes.

Our lunch hour was 1-2pm, and with the game starting at 3pm there wouldn’t be much of the game that I could see – even if things were going to plan.

As you can imagine I was so full of misery and pessimism that I didn’t bother with iFollow… I went on set to film after lunch, and by coincidence my first break back in my trailer was 3.45pm. I immediately checked the BBC website – more out of habit than with any kind of hope – but BOOM! Sheffield Wednesday 2-0 Peterborough! That’s what the screen says!

I immediately get iFollow on my iPad, but no sooner does the second half kick off I end up being called back to set… I look around the seemingly deserted lot for someone to watch the game for me, who could rush to set with news of a third goal.

The only person wandering around is a guest actor who I’d met for the first time earlier that day. As soon as I begin to fill him in on his mission I can see his eyes glaze over… He has no idea or concept of the drama unfolding.

I realise later that he has no interest in sport of any kind, but for a brief hour or so he becomes hooked. He admits that he’d never watched a ‘soccer’ game before this one.

Anyway, I’m back on set having left the game just after Lee Gregory’s overhead kick. I have quite a bit of dialogue, and amazingly I get the words out in a reasonable fashion, but my head is not in the game. Well, it’s in a game, just one that I can’t see or have any knowledge of.

Film sets are very closed worlds, where real life very rarely intrudes. So we do the scene and now I have five or 10 minutes to head back to my trailer and get my head back in the real game. As I turn the corner out of the studio my new soccer convert buddy is barrelling out of my trailer at speed. We lock eyes as if in some romantic comedy, and he yells, “It’s three!” We hug in the middle of the backlot.

I get to see the game up until the 86th minute whereupon I’m called back to set. Again. My new pal is now totally up to speed, and knows if we should make it four then he has my permission to storm the set and go mental with me. This may get him fired, but who cares?

By now I’m shaking, and can’t believe I have to do this acting thing at the exact time that my world is unfolding in such an extraordinary manner. I quickly seek out the only crew member who has any interest in football – Rudy, our cameraman. He agrees to have his phone out, and will slyly keep an eye on the last two or three minutes for me. I convince him there’s got to be at least six minutes of injury time.

Having done my close-up previously I’m now off camera, but with my back to Rudy as I feed lines to my fellow actor – who just happens to be Murdoch!

We do the scene once, cut is called, I spin round and Rudy tells me that I’m totally right. Six minutes have been added. He’s amazed at my psychic powers and wants to know how I knew that! I say, “Rudy I just knew.”

We go for a second take and Rudy whispers, “Times up almost up.”

Next thing, the director yells cut, and as I turn around Rudy is making the weirdest face, a face that is hard to describe. He says, “You need to get back to the trailer…’ I ask him if it’s four, and he just nods. Even he can’t even believe it.

At this point I don’t even know if we’re going for a third take, but I go mental and everyone on the crew jumps as I go berserk.

I head off set, and before I’ve gone a dozen paces my soccer convert buddy is almost on top of me. He’s crashed through the doors and the both of us are hugging, going mad as if he’s as big a Wednesday fan as I am.

I get to see most of extra time, and the two goals there are the only ones I see in real time. I’m called back to set as the final whistle goes, and in a weird way I’m glad that I’m unable to watch the penalties.

By now Joe, our Portuguese/Canadian focus puller, is up to speed and has my back concerning the shootout. I go ballistic for a second time and spend the rest of the day trying to explain my behaviour to bemused Canadian crew members. Ain’t life grand?

Fortunately I’m off work on the 29^th, but have to work the day after, so I can’t make it back.

Here’s hoping you all have a wonderful day at Wembley… I’ll be somewhere in Toronto, five hours behind you all, glued to a screen somewhere as occasionally make the local populace jump out of their skins!

Come On You Blue & White Wizards.