Pete Sixsmith’s interesting day: Germany, Jack Rodwell and not an MOT. (Only two failures, then)

John McCormick writes: how could Pete Sixsmith have known that my car failed its MOT this morning? (Have you seen these new fail notifications? I got a big bold FAIL repair immediately comment, along with something advisory about my rear brake disks. That said, the Mrs went out in it this afternoon).

I presume that’s what his e-mail was about but it could have been about next season’s fixtures. I expect to be at the Charlton game but am a little less certain about a London trip to take in AFC Wimbledon at the end of the month. If you have a spare ticket let me know.

Or could something else(s) have been happening in the world of football? Let’s catch up with Pete’s catchup:

AN INTERESTING DAY

What a day!! The sun is cracking flags here in South West Durham and momentous events are taking place.
The GCSE marking is going nicely at the moment despite it all being on line and forcing me to spend all day looking at a screen full of exam papers rather than a screen full of Ready To Go and Big and Bouncy (I read it for the gardening tips).

The day started well when this week’s Round the Horne had a filthy song from Rambling Sid Rumpold, a wonderful scene involving Dame Celia Molestrangler and ageing juvenile Binky Huckerback and Julian and Sandy as all-in wrestlers. It was topped by this exchange between Kenneth Williams and Hugh Paddick;

KW (having introduced HP as the next Sir John Gingold (sic); “Tell him what Michael Redgrave said to you, Hugh.”
HP “What, about me bothering his daughter?”

Collapse of not quite so stout party in kitchen and toast all over the floor.

It got better. A visit to Morrisons in the thriving hub known as Bishop Auckland, revealed various flavours of Hartleys Jellies at 7 for £3.00, not only a bargain but a dish fit to serve before a King.

Then, on the bus home, after a fascinating chat with a man who worked in B and Q, I heard the news that Jack Rodwell had come to an agreement with the club and was on his way. Where to, we do not know. Some say to MLS in the Good Old USA, where he can live under the benevolent dictatorship of The Donald (Trump, not Stuart) and play in a league made up of all nations.

Others said that he was going to Aris Salonika in the Greek Super League. My brother lives in Thessaloniki so I immediately fired off a text to inform him of this and suggested that he contact Jack and offer him a room in his house for half of his final week’s salary from Sunderland. The retort was that he would offer to be his Greek agent for that which would probably enable him to buy the Parthenon, Nana Mouskouri and the entire production line of Ouzo for the next twenty years. He also said that he would tell his Aris supporting friendly fisherman to hide the souvlaki from Jack.

They would get on as Phil is supremely fit, doesn’t work at all and thoroughly enjoys his sport (cycling) – so that’s one out of three for Jack. They both lived in Southport, so they can exchange memories of The Guest House, The Barons Bar in The Scarisbrick Hotel and the delights of the Lawnmower Museum.

It’s been a long drawn out affair with Jack, but I imagine that he is as glad to see the back of Sunderland as Sunderland is to see the ever broadening back of him.

Then, having waded through a mire of questions that had to assess the differences between two observations on Martin Luther King, I reclined on the couch to watch Germany v Republic of Korea, a game that I would have expected the Europeans to win and move into the last 16 of this rather entertaining and utterly splendid World Cup.

Wrong. They were useless. They looked like men walking through a field full of treacle. There was no energy, no intelligence and no idea. In fact, they looked like a team of Jack Rodwells. And out they went, with the Republic of Korea (not to be confused with The Democratic Republic of Korea so beloved by The Donald – Trump, not Stuart) scoring twice in the closing minutes, reminiscent of Ji-Dong -won’s sole strike for us against Manchester City in the days when we played several levels above Rotherham United.

I mention them because they have signed a player we were keen on (Clark Robertson from Blackpool) who opted for them as he didn’t want to play in Division One. He’s in good company, as Honeyman, Asoro, Maja, Cattermole, Oviedo, McNair and various others aren’t too keen on the prospect either.

So far, we have signed a couple of decent players from Hearts; I have seen Alim Ozturk and he looks as if he could well be ok. Jon McLaughlin, the keeper, has not appeared on my radar, but he surely can’t be any less confident than Jason “Tommy” Steele; Brighton fans must be hoping that Ryan doesn’t get injured.

I saw Chris Maguire play for Rotherham United Reserves against Hartlepool United, one afternoon at Billingham Town (the pleasures of being a pensioner) and he looked a wee bit disinterested. Hopefully we don’t have another Rodders on our books.

Anyway, I am back to the marking, wading through the problems that Herbert Hoover had to face between 1929-32.

Whatever they were, they can’t be much worse than those that Jack Ross is looking at.

 

Pete Sixsmith and “return home” graphics by Jake. If there is any copyright claim, not answered by ‘fair use’ exemptions, on the other images used to illustrate this report, please make us aware and we will add credits or remove as requested.