John Mcormick writes: It’s Saturday night, and I’m letting the Chateauneuf-du-Pape breathe. The steak is out of its wrapper and relaxing. The cheese, (a brie that would please Mme Salut) is just resting until it becomes “au point”. Ok, my beloved wife has just explained how I should operate an iron, but my use of such an implement is theoretical and cannot detract from the evening. I’m happy. I’m content. I’m even looking forward to Match of the Day.
But the big thing, the perfect thing, is the knowledge that tomorrow, when I’m cooking the free-range sausage and boiling the free range eggs, it’s Malcolm who will be posting a top-notch account from a top notch reporter, spectator, supporter, or any other noun you may wish to insert.
I’ll leave it to him (Malcolm, that is) to continue. After all, he was there and I wasn’t…..
….Driving to the Stadium of Light yesterday, I realised that I had left my wallet with my season card at home but as I was only five minutes into my journey I had plenty of time to turn around and pick it up. For thirty minutes I was wondering if I had made the right decision. I couldn’t work out if the team had decided to take part in the latest social media craze, the mannequin challenge or whether or not they had been inspired by the latest health craze for the over 50s – walking football. For thirty minutes the midfield defended deep in our own half and when we had the ball there was absolutely no movement off it. How we are missing Lee Cattermole, Seb Larsson or Steven Pienaar, who might have injected a bit of enthusiasm into the rest of players. Even the headless chicken Duncan Watmore seemed content to stand still and watch the player on the ball.
I sent Pete Sixsmith a text which said simply “this is horrible”. Then a bit of magic from Jermaine Defoe turned the game and Victor Anichebe showed that he might well become the most important of our summer signings. I still thought we were poor, mind. Does Sixer agree? Read on to find out…………