SAFC

Sixer’s Soapbox: two points dropped against Fulham and the ‘R’ word looms

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Another poor show at The SoL, as we stumble to a draw against opposition we should beat. We have now won 2 out of the last 15 home games. Pete Sixsmith had high hopes of a wonderful weekend but the first of the three events he attended was the only disappointment

You occasionally get weekends which are full of things to do, things that you are looking forward to, things that you really, really want to enjoy.

I knew that two out of the three things I had planned this weekend would be fine. The one I was worried about was the Fulham game. My worries were not unfounded.

Let’s deal briefly with the two successes. Après le match, Martin Simpson was his usual excellent self at the Davy Lamp Folk Club in Washington, while Sunday evening was enlivened by the wonderful Lumière Festival in Durham City.

But I suspect that those who are able to read this couldn’t give the proverbial monkey’s about either. The sole thing that interests them is the loss of two more points to a club who are in a similar position to us – viz. beginning to contemplate a serious relegation battle.

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Sixer’s Soapbox: Spurs add to an already cruel February

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It may be a taxing time for Harry Redknapp, but Pete Sixsmith sees his Spurs team show Sunderland exactly what you need to be a Champions League team.

T S Eliot (not a renowned football fan) wrote that “April is the cruellest month”. For Sunderland fans, replace April with February and you have a truism if ever there was one.

February sorts out the teams who will and the teams who won’t. Go into March top of the League, be it FA Premier or Northern, and the chances are that you will finish the season there. Ditto at the bottom.

Hit a slump in February and you can wave goodbye to a top six finish – it happened in 2000 with 2 points out of 9 and again in 2001 with a similar return and with an FA Cup exit thrown in.

This year we have played three games in February and have lost all three. We have scored some good goals, played some neat and tidy football – and have defended like Stockport County on a bad day.

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Blackpool v SAFC: Beer crates, pigs and Mr Punch

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As the hoo hah dies down after the derby game and Darren Bent’s move to the Midlands, we have a very important game at Blackpool on Saturday. Our current form is not brilliant; since two hard fought consecutive wins, we have crashed out of the cup and almost allowed the Mags to claim undisputable bragging rights for the rest of the season So, let’s wallow in a little bit of nostalgia as Pete Sixsmith reminisces about three visits to the seaside town that is noted for fresh air and fun, one in the 60s, one in the 70s and – to follow later in the week – one in the 80s.

My first visit to Bloomfield Road was in September 1964 in a proper First Division game. I was 13, Colin was 15 and he played a major part in persuading my reluctant father that I be allowed to go to the game on Billy Reilly’s bus. Colin convinced him that we would be ok and that no drinking would take place on the Central Coaches flyer and that after the game we would go to Woolworths for a meal before taking a tram (probably in the shape of a Mississippi river boat) see the illuminations.

Well, the first part was wrong with a capital W. The bus was full of Shildon’s finest drinkers, including Michael Jones and his somewhat overweight brother who rejoiced in the nickname of Jasper. He was a drinking legend in the town and he took up two seats on the coach because of his mighty girth.

We were picked up at The King William and the bus meandered down to Close House, where the adults got off and shot into the Royal Hotel for a couple of pints while Billy Reilly and Kenny Snowdon loaded the bus up with crate upon crate of Newcastle Brown Ale.

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Bent to Aston Villa? He’s on his way

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Stories that Darren Bent had put in a transfer request in the summer but was persuaded to stay would explain the contrast in his performances this season compared to last.  Pete Sixsmith speculates on some other reasons, and like Jeremy Robson (below) takes the long view.

Well, that has been an interesting 24/36 hours hasn’t it? Almost defeat to the Mags, imbeciles running on the pitch and then a transfer request from Darren Bent. As the Chinese say, “May you live in interesting times”.

 Except I would rather not, or at least not if they are as negative as these “interesting times” are. I don’t want to dwell on yesterday’s game- enough said about it and I am getting a bit worried about myself, when Newcastle fans compliment me on my fairness. I must be getting old. What next? A pat on the back for Nick Clegg? An acceptance that Bernard Manning was “quite funny”?

The idiot who ran on the pitch, one Ross Miller, clearly has the brain cells discarded by a semi educated aardvark. Whatever the reasons for celebrating, it does not extend to pushing over an opposition player. The youth should be thoroughly ashamed of himself and turning up to apologise to Harper and then appearing on 5Live should not prevent him from being barred from the Stadium and the possibilities of a custodial sentence.

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Darren Bent: going, going ….

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With M Salut still out of the country, Jeremy Robson is the first to comment on the surprising – and, for many of us, the very disappointing – news of Darren Bent’s transfer request. 

He’s scored thirty odd goals in a season and a half. He has consistently presented himself as a good professional, and has this morning surprised us by asking the club for a transfer. The modern day footballer lies somewhere between a 17th century Pierrot player and a 70s rock star. Despite his goals (for which we are grateful), and the league position which improved considerably, largely due to his strike rate, Darren Bent has never really captured the hearts of the Sunderland faithful in the same way that Messrs Quinn and Phillips did in their pomp, or quite in the same way that Marco Gabbiadini did several years earlier. The Dazzler never really made himself ours. We loved his goals, but the question really remains about whether we really loved him as a player. It’s difficult to love something that isn’t really yours. You might become fond of your next door neighbour’s dog, but he isn’t yours so you will never feel the bond or mutual respect that comes with ownership, and which results from trust, loyalty and a long term relationship. Bent has worn the shirt. He has played well and conducted himself properly and professionally. Sadly you could say the same for your bank manager or accountant or junior school headmaster, provided that you were lucky enough to have a good one.

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Sixer’s Soapbox: Fat Lady (Man) Warbles at Newcastle

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“Thank goodness that’s over” says Pete Sixsmith as we scrape a point against a far better Newcastle side. Talk of getting out of jail, fat ladies singing and clutching at straws dominate these observations on a bitterly disappointing derby performance. We need to do better next year !!!!

At 13:48, with the clock running down, I sent my Seven winging across the seas to M. Salut in Penang. “Once again found lacking when it mattered” were my words as we huffed and puffed against a side who were threatening to score a second, and take a deserved three points home with them.

For the umpteenth time we pushed forward with effort rather than skill. The ball dropped to Bardsley who whipped in a shot, Harper parried it and Asamoah Gyan poked it over the line to level the scores.

Wild celebrations from those around me; much jumping about and a feeling that we had not only got out of jail, but that we had kidnapped all the Prison Officers, burnt the place down and reformed the entire criminal justice system. The Fat Lady (or middle aged Man in this case) was singing his head off at this one. Games last for 90 minutes!!!

Quite frankly, we were awful. Whatever weaknesses we had seen against Blackpool and Notts. County were magnified 100x in this scrappy, bitty and, for us, ultimately disappointing derby.

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SAFC v Newcastle: Derby Day – let’s make it an enjoyable experience

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With the October humiliation still fresh in his mind, Pete Sixsmith comes out from under the covers to call on the spirit of the  the Roker Roar before the Wear-Tyne derby. 

 

Sunday is looming on the horizon and with it the chance to gain some revenge for the humiliation that was heaped on us in October. I regard that as possibly the worst day I have had following Sunderland, on a par with Gillingham at home and the Crystal Palace play off game. 

I would imagine that it was Steve Bruce’s worst day in management. He said that he went home and went to bed, thereby mirroring the actions of all those of red and white persuasion in the region. Never has pulling the covers over the head seemed such an attractive lifestyle choice. 

So, this time round, what are we likely to get? For Steve Bruce, this is the defining moment in his Sunderland career. Lose this one and he is a dead man walking in the eyes of many Sunderland fans. Win it and his contract negotiations can continue without any shouts of dismay from fan sites, message boards and Salut Sunderland. 

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Sixer’s Sentiments: Welcome to Vice Chairman Miliband

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Although the club has not officially confirmed any appointment* Pete Sixsmith muses on the football affiliations of Prime Ministers and almost Prime Ministers, including the best PM we never had

*stand-in editor panics about spreading misinformation while M Salut is swanning around abroad

I am not one for reading the Daily Mail – indeed I would usually reject fish and chips if they came wrapped in it – but my attention was drawn to it this morning while I was trying to persuade the cat to take a pill by stroking its throat, a task that brings hours of entertainment as I comb the kitchen floor trying to find out where he has spat out the damn thing.

The Today programme mentioned that the Mail was running a story about Miliband Major becoming Vice Chairman of Sunderland AFC. I thought about buying a copy on the way to work, but decided against betraying my class and read the story on line.

And for once the Mail seemed to be right. It has a dreadful record – I am sure that all readers are familiar with the Zinoviev Letter of 1924 – and this story was written in the sneering terms that Associated Newspapers reserve for Socialist politicians, who are clearly expected to know their place and doff their (flat) caps to the toffs who, quite rightly in their distorted view, run this country.

They did a mock up of Miliband Major in a Sunderland shirt, but true to form, they used last season’s, a fine example of research by their political staff.  They also had him holding a banana, a reference to a less than flattering photo image from his failed campaign to be leader of the Labour Party.

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Notts County Soapbox: Pies poison us

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37 years on from a tight draw at Meadow Lane, Sunderland show that they have learned nothing from the past and turn in a display that has Pete Sixsmith shaking his head in wonderment at such an embarrassing performance

 

So, the idea of symmetry with the teaching career goes out of the bloody window at the first stage.

What an absolutely shocking performance our players turned in yesterday. I won’t use the word “team” in this, because we played nothing like one. It was a collection of individuals pretending to be a unified group in red and white stripes, nothing more.

Our opponents, a decent third level team, stuck to their task well. They were organised, efficient and well drilled. This proved to be far too much for the assembled red and white superstars, who played as if they were up against some wonder team from the upper echelons of La Liga rather than a mid table Division One team.

As I drove across an empty Wearmouth Bridge towards an empty Stadium of Light, I heard the line up and thought, “Hmm, one or two will be keen to show the manager and the assembled fans that they are good enough to play regularly. This makes me look forward to an afternoon of high tempo football and lots of goals whizzing past the Pies goalkeeper”.

How wrong could I be? Quite a lot as it happened. Our “squad” players made it clear that the only squad that applied to them was one they should be stood in front of.

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Big Sam, the pickled poor and Salut: all sick as parrots

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This is what the Wikipedia entry for norovirus says:

The disease is usually self-limiting, and characterised by nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain; and in some cases, loss of taste. General lethargy, weakness, muscle aches, headache, and low-grade fever may occur.

It sounds as if that’s what I’ve had since not too long after the Fulham boredraw. It’s been nicknamed the skiver’s complaint and no virus, but a measure of its impact on this self-proclaimed sufferer is that he has not only avoided a drop of alcohol for 72 hours but has never felt less like taking one.

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