It is reported that Ian Porterfield has died after a long battle against cancer of the colon. This was an illness he bore with great fortitude, continuing with real passion to the last few weeks of his life to run the Armenian national football team. He was 61, and died in a hospice in Surrey.

Everyone remembers Monty’s saves in the 1973 FA Cup triumph over Leeds United at Wembley. They would have counted for nothing had it not been for Ian’s winning goal.

Salut! Sunderland extends deep sympathy to Ian’s family and friends, and will return to this sad news tomorrow.

Here’s a tip for all literate Sunderland fans planning to attend Saturday’s home game against Reading.

Forget or delay your pre-match pint. Don’t even think of joining the ridiculous queues at the official club shop. Still less waste your time at the shop’s little satellite stall between the ticket office and the East Stand turnstiles only to be told they have nothing you wanted to buy, or nothing in the right size.

Pop along instead to Waterstone’s in the Bridges centre where Andy Dawson (pictured), the man behind the new SAFC-related website Haway the Lads will be autographing copies of his new book, The Irish Uprising: How Keano and the Mighty Quinn saved Sunderland. It will, says Andy, be the longest hour of his life, sitting in the shop between 12.30 and 1.30pm “wondering if anyone will come”.

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Forgive me for being happy enough to be here instead of Wembley*

Isn’t it relaxing to have a weekend with no game to worry about?

This is what I wrote for the Guardian‘s Comment is Free web pages last time England played Israel. They gave it the headline: Cry God for Niall, Sunderland and St Roy! I’d have stuck to Niall as Saint, but nothing much has changed for England, or indeed for me in the Club vs Country debate:

Cry God for St Niall, Sunderland and Roy!
The sports writers are already building up England’s game in Israel this weekend as a great footballing calamity waiting to happen: lose, we are told, and our hopes of qualification for next year’s European Championships will be in ruins.

So why – daft and English though I may be – will I probably forget to even check on the score? My lack of concern has little to do with living in France, where most people will, naturally, be more bothered about events in Lithuania. When I eventually find out what happened, I will be disappointed if England have lost or drawn, and quite pleased if they have won. But that’s it.

The result from Tel Aviv will have no lasting impact to match the joy of hearing Sunderland have won, or the injured feelings I suffer when they are beaten in a game on which absolutely nothing depends. Come to think of it, Israel 2, England 0 on Saturday evening would be a great deal less disappointing than Leeds Reserves 2, Sunderland Reserves 0 – a score line that denied us the 2001 Premiership Reserve League title.

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Reading at home on Saturday week (I’d forgotten about the internationals, since they mean so little to me – sorry). Then Boro away a week later and Blackburn at the SoL on Sept 29.

What is the least number of points we need from these games? I remember going through the same mental arithmetic during our two most recent relegation seasons, and of course we know how badly they went.

But let us be positive. A one-nil defeat at Old Trafford depresses us only because it was preceeded by those utterly dreadful performances at Wigan and Luton, and the honourable men-against-boys encounter with Liverpool.

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We all want to be positive, and it is ridiculous to raise doubts about players who have impressed Roy Keane enough for him to buy them, but who have yet to turn out for us.

But when the transfer deadline passed without the promised additional signing or two – unless the news media and club are observing some curious silence and have surprises in store to announce this morning – how many of us sensed a hollow feeling in the stomach? The rumours about Arca, Danny Murphy and even – perhaps a wind up – Julio Baptista persisted until the last minute, and all came to nothing.

Terror of Old Trafford may have something to do with this morning’s downbeat mood. We are looking for a mighty performance this evening that belies the form book (despite Man Utd’s iffy start) and confounds the commonsense belief that we’ll be trounced.

With a good or even encouraging result, we’ll be over the moon. Otherwise, we’ll begin to fear we are in for a long slog. There are games against lesser teams coming up, games we cannot afford to lose or, in some cases, even draw. We may know as early as October what our realistic prospects are this season.

For now, then, we must trust Keano’s judgment, sympathise with him over his failure to lure one or two more exciting targets and hope for the best.