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Pete Sixsmith is feeling contrite, having been lured by a newspaper headline into thinking Younes Kaboul’s transfer to Sunderland was in the bag. Salut! Sunderland is almost past caring whether he comes or not. Having beat the mighty Cobh Ramblers 4-0 away last night, and signed the most proficient spitter in the Premier League, do we actually need him? And wouldn’t we have to insist on chucking his agent Rudy Raba into the North Sea as a condition of the transfer? No matter, Pete welcomes the moves Keano has made in the market….

Sorry, I got the Kaboul one wrong and he hasn’t signed yet. I must admit that I read it through a beery haze after several pints of Deuchars and I was so excited about the arrival of the man with bigger underpants than Oliver Hardy, that I had a bout of premature speculation.

Anyway, we can welcome Pascal Chimbonda and look forward to seeing a step over and dummy competition between him and Nyron. He impressed me when I saw him at Wigan early in the 15 point debacle – remember, the game where Breen and Davies put down a marker for the season by giving away a penalty in the third minute.

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The scene has been set. And now, Fatima al Shamsi – click on the photo for a clearer view of her reading preferences – tells her own story…

June 2008, first week of work; the beginning of the end of my good judgement.

It all started with a simple question. “Who do you support?”

Next thing I knew it was the usual partitioning, each side of the conversation marking the appropriate boundaries: scoping out the enemy.

Understanding the allegiances of others helps you understand where the potential relationship stands. Apparently proclaiming my loyalty to the Gunners made me a glory seeker, whereas being a Sunderland fan was honourable.

I was informed that Sunderland was an example of a real football club, not a brand name. Although I strongly disagreed with those comments (and still do), I initially took pity on the misguided Sunderland supporter and thought no more of the matter.

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When it comes to football, Salut! Sunderland and Fatima al Shamsi are thick as thieves. From unpromising beginnings – Fatima’s allegiances read more like a list than a passion – has emerged the first hint that we are witnessing a truly remarkable transformation. Let us hail the born-again Emirati Mackem.

Fatima, who is studying at Columbia University in New York, recently entered the world of journalism as an intern at The National in her native Abu Dhabi. Part of Salut! Sunderland‘s mentoring duties at The National involve the indoctrination of all suitable candidates as surrogate Sunderland supporters.
“But I support Arsenal,” Fatima protested. “Then Barcelona, with a soft spot for AC Milan.”

All was not lost. She did, after all, adore Zinedine Zidane and loathe Materazzi, showing evidence of good taste.

And what was that lying about the desk but A Love Supreme’s More 24-Hour SAFC People? She took it home, vowing politely to read the chapter contributed from these shores but in the event devouring virtually every word.

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After the French distractions of the other day, Salut! Sunderland and/or Younes Kaboul’s agent need to eat some humble pie. Assuming, that is, that the news is correct, and we are not gazumped by Villa or Pompey* at the last second. “He wouldn’t join Sunderland in an earthquake” turns out to translate as “how much is Keane offering him, and what’s my commission?”. Pete Sixsmith swears he felt the earth move….

Where were you when the quake hit Wearside?

I was in Edinburgh and got news of the seismic shock via Sky Sports News which flashed up a banner saying that Kaboul had agrred terms* and was expected to sign, if he could find a house that was still standing.

His agent must be feeling about as smart as the general in the Amerian Civil War who dismissed the ability of an enemy sniper by saying: “He couldn’t hit a barn door from….aaaagh” It was a good funeral.

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No one, so far as I know, has tried to tempt Zinedine Zidane out of retirement to spend a couple of years at the Stadium of Light.

But apropos of nothing in particular, I’d like to pass on a great quote about him from Ingrid Betancourt, the recently freed French-Colombian hostage.

In page after page of coverage of her release in Paris Match magazine, including an in-depth interview, there was a mass of important, illuminating information.

But what stood out for me?

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Pete Sixsmith resolved to report loyally to Salut! Sunderland from his armchair view of Sporting Lisbon v SAFC. He ended up missing the second and third Sunderland goals, two sendings off and heaven knows what else. What went wrong? Two days on, he was still feeling the effects of a vigorous bout of pre-season drinking in Yorkshire…..

Roy must be feeling a sense of frustration at the moment as he attempts to strengthen our squad.

He works hard to line up players then finds that either they don’t seem desperately keen to come to Sunderland, or managers of lesser clubs think: “Mm, if a class manager like Roy Keane is interested in a Romanian centre half or a Ukrainian midfielder, he must be good, so I’ll see if my owner can sell a few more cheap and tatty Adidas shirts and I’ll buy him instead.”

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Mid-July and still the only news on the BBC football website is that West Ham have turned down our offer for George McCartney, an offer many times higher than we got when he went there. We all know big, exciting signings are on the way. Don’t we? Don’t necessarily hold your breath, sighs Pete Sixsmith, getting his despondency in first….

Is being a footballer, I wonder, the same as being a teacher or a newspaper executive.

Perhaps the money isn’t the same (newspaper execs are paid much more than the average run of the mill Premier League player). But do they have the same feelings about work as us?

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Sunderland have already organised a pre-season programme that will take in the sunshine of Portugal and – who knows? – the sunshine of SundIreland. So this is just for fun.

There is no prize, but tell me this: how could Sunderland play an overseas friendly and still be at home?

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