Soapbox: new chief exec needed. My application’s in …


Two abrupt departures from the club and no, we don”t mean Cristian Riveros off on loan to Kayserispor following Jordan Henderson’s sale to Liverpool. Pete Sixsmith ponders Sunderland AFC’s announcement that two boardroom figures are “stepping down” but is already too late with his cry of “gizza job”* …

I did intend to write a jolly little piece on the delight of pre-season friendlies – Little Titterington Wanderers v Great Bumstead Athletic, that sort of thing, when I saw the news that Steve Walton and Lesley Callaghan were leaving the club.

So I immediately turned to the club website and read the usual bland, corporate statement that all institutions give when there is a change at the top. They are “stepping down” from their positions, their “professionalism and commitment” have been invaluable and “we are sorry to see them go”. All said in the name of Niall Quinn, although I would be surprised if he had actually written the press release.

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Changing places: Newcastle and other away fans (plus their prison cells)

Go to jailShayne Kaye


So you didn’t know the Stadium of Light had a secondary role as part of HM Prison Service? Read on …

From the Sunderland Echo‘s Graeme Anderson comes as welcome a spot of news as we’ve seen since, well, Danny Welbeck returned from injury.

Sunderland, he says, are considering how to move away fans to a different part of the Stadium of Light than the large, usually too large, section of the South stand they are currently allocated.

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Another evil of corporate football, or just a fuss about a name?


Are the suits intent on chipping away at the soul of football until nothing’s left, as I suggested elsewhere in response to SAFC’s new Big Idea, hawking the name of the Stadium of Light? Or does it not matter a jot what the place is called as long as we are given something to appreciate once inside? Colin Randall thought he was sure of the answer …

sol

So there I was, driving through France and feeling happy with life. I’ve just about persuaded myself (perhaps prematurely) that we’re not going down. I love France and shouted as much when I saw the first road sign – Aix-en-Provence/Toulon/Nice – that told me I was on the last leg (Toulon being little more than a Jonny Wilkinson drop kick from where I live).

Then came a succession of noises from the mobile, enough to give me the idea there might be a hot new debate on the Blackcats e-mail loop.

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