Pete Sixsmith gave Anfield a wide berth. He therefore missed Kenwyne Jones’s impression of a young boy trying one-on-one shooting practice for the first time, a first half of decent passing and movement and a deeply disappointing second-half surrender. There were harsher assessments at the Blackcats forum: Andy wrote: “Were you to conduct a straw poll of United and Liverpool fans, they’d probably vote us the worst side they’d hosted this season.” And Gordon pointed out that not many teams had lost at Anfield recently, adding: “And few have offered such a pathetic challenge. We were absolutely awful.” Pete makes what he can of it …

I have to admit that I am writing this Soapbox as a fan who was not at Anfield, did not watch it on TV and, apart from 10 minutes in the car which culminated in Fulop dropping a Kelvin Davies-like clanger, didn’t listen to it. So I am in a perfect position to comment on the disappointing result that came out of the home of the plastic Scousers.

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When The National in Abu Dhabi launched its weekend edition back in November, my colleagues on the sports desk asked people to contribute articles about the teams they supported and the sporting arenas that meant most to them. Easy stuff for the average Sunderland fan. Regulars at Salut! Sunderland will have seen the article, reproduced here, about being a supporter of SAFC. Here is what I had to say about my favourite stadium…

If I pick my way around a collection of nondescript modern houses called Midfield Drive, I can locate the spot where, year after year, I spent Saturday afternoons or weekday evenings cheering a Sunderland AFC victory or, as likely, reduced to misery by defeat.

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Glory at the Santiago Bernabéu, shame at the Riverside. That was Liverpool’s week. Now they face us at Anfield on Tuesday night. Avoiding defeat in successive away games against top clubs is a lot to ask, but Sunderland fans are entitled to expect Ricky Sbragia and his squad to make at least as good a shot of it as they did at the Emirates.
Chris Pyke*, who works with me as a page editor on The National in Abu Dhabi, is a Liverpool fan who traces the Reds’ relative decline in recent years to the 1992 FA cup final. Sadly, for us, he expects much more of a Real Madrid than a Boro performance, and a Liverpool win by the same margin as at Wembley 17 years ago….

When Liverpool play Sunderland I am drawn back to the 1992 cup final and what now could now be referred to as the beginning of the end for the Anfield side.

I was born in 1978 and was immediately indoctrinated into the family’s Liverpool supporters’ programme.

By 1992, my 14th season as a fan, Liverpool had won eight league titles (runners up five times), the FA cup twice (runners up twice), the League Cup four times (runners up twice), and the European cup three times (runners up once). Looking back, I was rather spoilt.

But by 1992, my main recollection of a Liverpool v Sunderland clash, things were clearly on the wane for the Red Men.

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A trip to the comfortable environs of Finsbury Park has Pete Sixsmith all nostalgic for the proletarian terraces of Boundary Park and real football. His mood is not helped by Wenger’s usual churlish comments about Sunderland, but he takes heart from a disciplined and effective performance.

Twelve games left, 31 points on the board and we are inching towards safety and mid table respectability. Not the most exciting words ever written about football, but as we gathered another precious point, it sums up what we are all about at the moment.

Unfortunately for Professor Wenger and the bourgeois fans who inhabit the comfy seats at Ashburton Grove, we are not playing football the right way, by refusing to roll over and allow Arsenal to show off their silky attacking skills to the gathered aficionados sat there with their ciabatta rolls and their personalised shirts.

Instead, we are condemned by a man who, in the immortal words of Phil Cool, “Looks like someone who has just put his finger through the toilet paper”, as Arsenal failed to break down our resolute and determined defence.

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Fatima al Shamsi got so carried away with her essay on Arsenal worship that we thought it might be better to split her preview of Saturday’s game at the Emirates into two. Here are her answers to our questions and apologies in advance for failing to indoctrinate her sufficiently to get a prediction of a shock Sunderland victory…

Barcelona, Brazil, Arsenal…….why, in each case, and how important are Arsenal in relation to the others?

The Brazilian national team was my first real exposure to football. This is because my earliest childhood as well as my earliest football memories are from Brazil. Without really remember much of the 94 World Cup I still remember the passion that ran throughout the country my last summer there. Just like the rest of the world I had bought into the fact that Brazil were the best team in the world. Of course since then I have a strong love-hate relationship with the team. Whereas individual players play beautifully in their respective leagues, it’s been a while since the Brazilian squad has actually played at convincingly.
I was eight when I made my first steps into the world of club football. I remember sitting with my dad during one of his ritual weekend matches and for the first time ever I took a genuine interest in following what was happening on the big screen. While I watched my dad angrily yell at Manchester United, I instinctively took it that the opposing team were the ‘good guys’ and that was my first introduction to Arsenal. And ever since then I’ve been hooked (thank God the opposing team weren’t Blackburn, the Spurs or Chelsea …eugh). I just remember watching Bergkamp and Anelka and thinking they were absolutely amazing.
Since my dad used the weekends to unwind and watch loads of football then I was also exposed to the Italian and Spanish leagues. Although I still occasionally watch a Series A game I only truly follow La Liga and the Premiership. And as far as my love of Barcelona, it was simple, the household was split between Real Madrid fans (my mum and brother) and Barcelona (my dad and another brother)…I chose wisely. Ever since then its been quite a ride with the Catalans- this season being absolutely sensational.
Normally I can keep my Arsenal/Barca support separate but when they met for the Champions League finals (which I had predicted and was repeatedly dismissed for) in 06, I was clad in my maroon Thierry Henry jersey.
I am first and foremost a Gooner and will always be.

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The English always announce the arrival of winter snow in astounded tones, yet every year it snows. So sang Sandy Denny. Pete made the most of what was left of Saturday’s cup-restricted, weather-ravaged football, and caught a thriller. Thawing out, he muses on the declining allure of Premier football and wanders whether we might even be able to snatch something at Arsenal…..

A week without that rising tension in the pit of the stomach as you begin to think about Saturday’s game.

A week free from looking to see which black shirted buffoon will spoil the game on Saturday.

A Saturday away from trying to forecast the best combination of results that will enable us to entertain another glorious attempt to scale the foothills of the Premier League. A day where you can look at copious non league fixtures and choose the most esoteric available.

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Sunderland mosaic
Originally uploaded by JonHall

Put this posting down to la treve. That’s how French football deals with the depths of winter: a break in the season when bad weather might be expected (or so my late father-in-law used to claim; I always thought it had more to do with players wanting to eat, drink and be merry).

Sunderland’s own February treve, an unintended two-week gap between games resulting from our cheap exit from the FA Cup, allowed a few Mag-baiting imaginations to run riot at Blackcats forum. Salut! Sunderland nearly allowed its own thoughts to go the same way before deciding instead on a nice, safe, feelgood set of photographs from the recent SAFC v Fulham game.

Walking to the ground
Originally uploaded by JonHall

Jeremy Robson had started it over at the Blackcats forum, dreaming from his Canadian wilderness of misspent days in the Clock Stand Paddock. What, he asked, is there to hate about Newcastle? Quite a lot, it seems. It is fair to say the list of answers Jeremy initiated has since grown like Topsy as other supporters have chipped in..

File it under Mostly Good Fun, alongside Ian Black’s have-it-both-ways book Mackems vs Geordies/Geordies vs Mackems….

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