After Stoke,we welcome another footballing giant in Wigan Athletic. Pete Sixsmith may well give that one a miss for a ride on a potential Wembley bandwagon..

The ground at St Ives. Picture courtesy of St Ives Town FC

 

After the display we were  forced to sit through on Monday night, only the most devoted followers of the Marquis de Sade can be looking forward to the visit of the Wigan pie eaters with any enthusiasm or expectation.

Wigan had an even worse result than we did, losing at home to serial bankrupts Notts County in an FA Cup replay, which prised 4,000 Latics out of their armchairs and into the DW stadium to watch open-mouthed as their team were dumped on.

That should reduce the Wigan following from the tiny to the miniscule, and should lead to a huge number of empty seats in the South Stand. Add to that the fact that there may well be an empty seat in the East Stand (Row 34, Seat 404) as I am caught on the horns of a footballing dilemma.

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If only. If only Kieran Richardson hadn’t done football’s equivalent of Roman Polanski making a high-profile visit to a country with a massive extradition treaty with the US. If only Malbranque had got to that ball before Carrick and made it 3-1. If only Anton … but no, this is the way to even higher blood pressure. It was still a resounding performance, the result as predicted by Bill Taylor (ex-Bishop, now Canada) on these pages and the game as described here by Pete Sixsmith …

One of my first Soapbox pieces was after our 3-2 defeat at the Emirates two years ago. I said this was the first time we had looked like a Premier League side since Reidy was in his pomp and that it was something we could build on.

Alas, since then, we have done very little except beat weaker teams and scrabble around the nether regions, prompting commentators to dismiss us as also-rans and one of those sides that act as cannon fodder for the big boys.

Well, that was effectively brought to an end on Saturday as we gave Manchester United a lesson in how to retain possession, how to mark tightly and how to score goals. Yes, Sunderland gave Manchester United a lesson. Never thought I would write those words, but, dear reader, it is true. We did. So there!!

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Well, it may or may not be football's most literate blog. Typos creep in all the time; one of us struggles with apostrophes. But Salut! Sunderland does have a new home.

The site has been running now for more than two-and-a-half years. It began as an offshoot of Salut!, a site started in Oct 2006 just after I – Colin Randall – was fired by The Daily Telegraph, which had decided that 29 years of me was quite long enough.

At first, Salut! Sunderland was a one-man show. I transferred, with the enormous help of Madame Salut, a large archive of "celebrity supporter" interviews originally done for 5573, later relaunched as Wear Down South, the newsletter of the London branch of the Sunderland AFC Supporters' Association. I wrote about anything to do with Sunderland that took my fancy. And then I persuaded my great friend Pete Sixsmith to help out a little.

A little!

With Sixer's Sevens – his seven-word verdicts on each match – and his Sixer's Soapbox, wonderful and witty insights into the world of football (and life) as seen through the eyes of a Sunderland fan, it is Pete who has made the blog the literary giant I claim it to be. Add to that the features, interviews and a brilliant series of contributions by the fans of opposing teams and you have a wealth of reading that even non-SAFC fans can appreciate.

Between us, we account for around 90 years of Sunderland support. Back in the 60s, we had our first season tickets in the Main Stand paddock at Roker Park, were present for the monumental FA Cup replay against Man Utd, saw the Boxing Day injury that eventually ended Brian Clough's career and began lifetimes of support, with long periods of torpor punctuated by occasional ecstasy and agony.

Judge the site yourself, here at its new home hosted by Football United, about which more later. You may also for now – and depending on how the move goes – catch up on the past glories of Salut! Sunderland by paying visits to the old site.

And look out here for more news of our baby steps towards something maybe bigger. I have set the visitor counter to start at about 158,000 – the figure it had reached at the old site when I last checked a few minutes ago.

A dignified show by our fans at Celtic, paying Sir Bobby Robson – a real gent, and a great son of the North wherever his allegiances lay – the right sort of tribute (and some measure of atonement for some inexcusable chants, even if on the lips of a minority of idiots, from earlier in his illness), was in its way more important than the football.
But not a bad pre-season so far, and Pete Sixsmith has seen it all. We must never read too much into the results – wins or defeats – but there is no reason why we shouldn't be quite pleased with a 2-1 away victory at Celtic …

Another world class side, another victory for the Lads! After crushing the giants of Madrid, we turned our attention to the finest team in Scotland, a nation renowned for its record in European Championships and World Cups. Clearly, we are heading for our first League Title since 1936.

Well, okay, I may be getting a wee bit carried away. Beating a pedestrian Atletico team, and a Celtic with a crucial Champions League game on their mind, means we should curb our enthusiasm, but I have to say it looks promising.

Clearly, the advent of Bruce and Black has made players focus on what they should be doing. The idea of leaving Jones to play up front on his own has seen a return to the form that prompted John Terry to describe him as the most dangerous forward in the division. He wreaked havoc amongst the Hoops defenders, scored a good goal and linked up well with Kieran Richardson. If we have even considered selling him, we need to forget it pdq.

Richardson also looked good. He took a smart goal, missed a sitter and generally looked happy in this “off the big fella” role. As Pete Horan said, he thrives without the responsibility of having to think about his other midfield duties. Bruce likes a big man up front (Heskey) with midfielders picking up behind. Kieran fits that bill perfectly.

The rest of the team looked solid and there was another very promising performance from Jordan Henderson, who is in serious danger of being in the starting line up at Bolton. He has grown in confidence this month and he is beginning to pace himself better. He and Leadbitter looked very sound in the middle of the park.

Steed and Reid (Comedy Capers with a Song and a Dance) did well wide, with Reid playing some cracking balls and nearly scoring with a tremendous shot. Steed reverted to the right, where he looked not quite as good as he does on the left but he also looks to be an integral part of the team.

It was good to see George McCartney return at left back. He moved forward comfortably and was always there to receive a ball from Collins and Ferdinand for the ball from the central defenders and then looked to give it to Reid and support him going forward.

The two goals were well taken: a left foot drive from Kieran and a good far post header from Kenwyne. Celtic never threatened in the first half and only got back into the game when they strengthened their team and we weakened ours with copious substitutions.

The weaknesses in Scottish football were there for all to see as Celtic huffed and puffed and at times looked little better than a poor Championship side. We looked at their squad and it was full of Championship players – Loovens, Naylor, Caldwell and players who have not cut the mustard in the Premier League like Samaras and Fortune.

They have a magnificent stadium and loyal support, but they are sure to slip further and further behind the middle ranking clubs in Europe as domestic TV money dries up. They will probably go out of Europe next week and that is ruinous for them. Many in Scotland will rejoice at that, but it is clear that Scottish football is in a parlous state at club level.

The day was a good one. The Penrith route worked, Virgin Trains were impressive and the coffee was excellent. Mr Horan (rapidly losing his Jonah soubriquet) found a cracking pub for lunch, complete with Billy Connolly type landlord. It was the Babbitty Bowser in the elegant and sophisticated Merchant City part of the city. Pricey beer and good food made us think we were back in Amsterdam.

We were brought back to reality as we walked out to Parkhead. After turning left at Glasgow Cross, we walked along Gallowgate, past the Barrowlands Music venue and into a very, very run down area of the city. The beer in the pubs was cheap, the music was of the Irish rebel variety and the clientele looked distinctly hostile to all things English. It reinforced stereotypes about Glasgow and the fact that it is the unhealthiest city in western Europe. A lot of work to do there!

The bandwagon rolls on to Peterborough on Tuesday, which I am almost certain to miss, before stopping in Glasgow’s snooty neighbour Edinburgh next Saturday. Having been promised a post match snifter in the Scotch Whisky Society by Peter’s daughter Emma, it’s probably wise not to expect a detailed breakdown of the game until, say Monday – the 17th!!

Haste ye back, as they used to say on The White Heather Club.

Laurent Blanc et mascotte
Originally uploaded by Kamini-le-ouf

… and would Bordeaux have beaten Celtic 2-1 away in a pre-season friendly, as we did today?

The defence rests.

Look out for Pete Sixsmith’s report from Glasgow over the next day or so.

Marouane Chamakh by
Kamini-le-ouf

…. that’s a useful French phrase which means the person breaks wind higher than the place from which they usually break wind. Too big for their boots, in other words. In case our Laurent doesn’t get the message – you don’t go around calling SAFC a little club unfit for one of your players – here it is in slightly different terms:

Bordeaux: un petit club avec des grandioses prétentions. Avec le joueur rejeté par Sunderland, David Bellion – qui parmi nous se souviennent comment il s’est mit a courir 50 metres, mais souvent aussi la façon dont il s’est terminé en deposent le ballon en plein Row Z? – sur la fin comme remplacement (dernier match), ils ont gagné le titre de Ligue 1 sous les yeux de Marseille, qui avait semblé en route pour le championnat francais. Il ne fallait que j’ai annoncé la possibilité de l’OM comme champions dans le presse, suite ils ont immédiatement perdu 3-1 à domicile contre Lyon. Bellion*? Champions? OK, le jeune homme a sans aucun doute connu une amélioration depuis ses années a Sunderland, ou il a fait beaucoup de vent pour rien. Monsieur Blanc était grand joueur. Grace a la betise de Slaven Bilić, il a subi une absence triste de la finale de la Coupe du Monde 1998 (le fameux un-deux-trois victoire sur le Brésil), mais il gère une équipe qui pourrait remporter le championnat français, mais aura probablement condamné au milieu de la classement s’ils jouaient en Angleterre. La plupart des joueurs français de merite vont d’ailleurs as quickly as their little legs will carry them. Les étrangers qui commencent à développer leur carrière en France le faire dans l’espoir que les clubs des premières ligues des pays voisins et de se tenir à l’écart. Et Laurent Blanc a l’audacité de dire Sunderland ne sont pas un assez grand club pour Marouane Chamakh.

And where exactly would Bordeaux finish if playing in the Premier League? 10th? 12th? 14? 7th in an exceptional season? A Fulham, Wigan sort of club …
… I meant to call him to task for it last week when I spotted his pompous comments in the French press. Now Mike Tivnen, over at the Blackcats list, reminds us of what he had to say, now that the remarks have crossed the Channel…

Bordeaux coach Laurent Blanc has again ruled out the departure of Marouane Chamakh to Sunderland by insisting he will only let the wantaway striker join a “big club”.

Chamakh has outlined his determination to leave Les Girondins and move to the Premier League but Blanc has already said he would only allow Chamakh to move if what he views as a bigger club came in with an offer, and he has reiterated his stance while on a pre-season tour to Canada with Les Girondins.

The former France defender told French daily newspaper L’Equipe: “I am going to do everything to make sure he does not go to just any club.”

He added: “With him, things are clear. After the season he’s had, if he has to go, it will be to a big club. That’s why I am standing in the way of a departure to Sunderland.

“I am not going to change what I said to him at the start of the year. If an offer comes from a big club, I will not stand in the way. The door is half-open.”

Mike commented:
Seems a very odd attitude to me. If I was the player and my boss was telling me who I could and couldn’t go to for reasons other than finance – or maybe club rivalry – I think I’d tell him to f*** off. Particularly when he seems to get his knowledge of the Premiership from watching Sky,

* My new friend kamini-le-ouf, who supplied the caricature of Marouane reports that Bellion is “as bad as ever”!

Two goals from Kieran Richardson, the second a corker after a great pass from Stokes following good work by Carlos Edwards, saw off Atletico Madrid.

Stand by for some positive thoughts from Pete Sixsmith …. maybe tomorrow.

No pre-season victory, even when it is at the expense of a leading Spanish club, carries a huge amount of weight, any more than a defeat by a similar margin to a top Portuguese side suggests doom and gloom for the season ahead.

But tonight's was a good performance with plenty of encouraging snatches: impressive wing play, convincing defence work, good goalkeeping when it was needed and a classy second goal to kill them off. And still without any of the new signings.

Be realistic about the nature of the competition and achievement, but take heart – and yes, Bill (see comments) have a laugh at Newcastle United, too.

Did anyone ever seriously believe Peter Crouch, of whom it can at least be said that he's a man you can look up to, would sign for Sunderland? No, I thought not. Even without a Wag climbing a ladder to breathe down his neck, he'd simply have used us to drive a harder bargain wiv sam savvern clab innit. Pete Sixsmith, it is fair to say, quickly got over any sense of disappointment. No wonder. He's off to the Netherlands for our Crouch-free warm-up tournament …

If it’s pre-season you can be assured that Messrs Horan and Sixsmith will be taking to the road, track or skies to follow the team to whatever exotic location they are heading for.

Over the years we have followed the Fawlty Towers trail to Torquay, spending a delightful day travelling on a Virgin Cross Country train with the heating full on in our carriage while the sun blazed in through sealed, double glazed windows By the time we arrived in the land of palm trees and bloodshed at the Nell Gwynn tea rooms, we were as dehydrated as Mrs Richards was deaf.

It was a pleasant trip that included a cracking day on a steam railway to Dartmouth, a boat trip up the River Dart to Totnes and the best cream tea I have ever had.

The next year we set off to Seville, a journey that was clouded with sadness as my father died the evening before we set off and Peter’s daughter's father-in-law was terminally ill. The city of Seville blew away some of the dark clouds that hung over us with its Andalucian charm, although the football was a disaster and it was abundantly clear that we were going to be involved in a relegation struggle. Not even the sight of Emerson Thome’s mighty pecs encouraged us to believe that Reidy could turn things around.

From Seville we moved on to a place whose name strikes fear into the heart of both of us: Algeciras. I’m sure it has its charms, but they were not clear to us as we spent a wretched night there, watching a bunch of Spanish Third Division thugs play football like Featherstone Rovers on speed. George McCartney and Thomas Butler were sent off (Butler for assaulting the slob who had kicked his mate George all over the place) and how Kevin Kyle never twatted their barbarian of a centre half is a mystery to me.

The last two pre-seasons have been spent touring Ireland. Highlights like Galway Races, a six-hour bus trip from Belfast to Athlone with a stinking hangover and rain of biblical proportions in Dublin are well chronicled in the Salut! Sunderland archive.

This year we are heading for Amsterdam. Both of us have been there before on football trips with the gallant lads of Shildon Sunderland Supporters FC. We stayed in the Hotel Hans Brinker, named after the Dutch patron saint of mould on the walls and unspeakable things in the shower.

We did all the tourist things – Street of Windows, canal ride, Street of Windows, Flower Market, Street of Windows.

We had a pacy midfielder (no names, but you know who you are, *****) who even indulged himself in the company of one of the ladies who exhibited there. He knocked on the window, asked her how much it was and was told 500 guilders. “That’s a bit expensive”, he said. “Ah, but it’s double glazed”, came the reply.

We fly from Leeds/Bradford on a red eye express, which at least gives us an extra day to savour the Amsterdam rain and see if it is any different to the billions of gallons that have poured down on South West Durham over the last week.

We have a number of cultural events planned: the Rijksmuseum to gaze at the Rembrandts and the Rubens. The Van Gogh museum to gaze at framed lyrics of Don McClean’s song. A sad and lonely figure, old Vincent – a bit like Mike Ashley, only without the beer gut and bodyguards. When he cut his ear off he gave it to his girlfriend. She said: “Oh, Vincent, you really do love me." He replied: “Pardon?"

The football will be interesting. In 1963 we played Benfica (who were then European Champions- Eusebio, Torres, Coluna etc) in a friendly at Roker Park. We were assured by the then board that this was a precursor of our own (inevitable) entry into European football. I didn’t go because my dad said I had to go to school the next day and Billy Reilly’s bus would not get back until 11.30.

I remember waiting for the next morning's Northern Echo with eager anticipation and crowing with delight when I saw that we had walloped them 5-3. It said that young John O’Hare had scored a wonder goal and that he was a real star in the making. The crowd had been a disappointing 26,000 but the future looked bright. I can’t remember the other scorers, but I would imagine that Johnny Crossan and George “Bullet” Mulhall would be there or thereabouts.

As for Atletico Madrid, I remember them being involved in a wonderfully violent game with Celtic in the 70s which featured a long haired Argentinian winger called Reuben Ayala chasing a Celtic player down the pitch. And they had a lunatic owner who sacked managers if the wrong team lost a training ground match.

Like all the best teams they wear red and white stripes as do Paraguay, home of our new centre half, Paolo da Silva – not dos Santos as Micky Horswill called him on The World's Worst Radio Phone In aka The Three Legends. However, no sighting of da Silva or Campbell in Amsterdam, as neither have reported for duty yet.

Finally a word on the Peter Crouch episode: relief!!!

Keep an eye open for news from the Netherlands over the next few days …

We're off, and off to a flying start if off can mean a pre-season friendly and flying start can mean beating Darlo 4-0. Pete Sixsmith was there …

Darlington is my nearest Football League club and I have always had a soft spot for them. They were the first pro club I watched before Messrs Randall and Hurley diverted me to Roker Park. I have two good pals who are devoted Quakers fans (although neither bother with pre season games) and I go there three or four times a year.

f Newcastle fans are scrabbling around looking for a more idiotic owner than Mike Ashley, Darlington could give them a run for their money. In the 70s they were run by a man called George Tait (principal of The National School of Salesmanship, if my memory serves me correctly) who ran them into the ground, while in the 90s a Scotsman whose name escapes me,was described by a prominent local journalist as “quite the most obnoxious man I have ever met”. Then there was GEORGE Reynolds….

One of the things we should thank Bob Murray for is that he turned down GR’s offers of financial assistance in the 90s.

George then went and bought Darlington, promising them Premier League football, big signings and a new stadium. He got one out of three right and it was to the Whatever It’s Called This Season Arena, that 4,000 of us trudged along to last night. Pity only 1,500 home fans turned out to see The North East’s Only Premier League Team.

It was a training canter for the first team players in the first half, with all of them clearly under instruction to take it easy and sharpen up their fitness levels. Errors by the Quakers defenders and keeper allowed Reid and Richardson to score and at half time there were wholesale changes.

This is when it got interesting. We have a decent crop of young players and they had been told by whoever (probably Bally) to go out and show the manager and his staff what they could do. As a result, Waghorn, Colbeck and particularly David Meyler treated it as a full scale trial. Waghorn’s pace and Colbeck’s ability to spot a simple pass must have had Steve Bruce and Eric Black thinking about how to use them. But the star of the show was Meyler, who cruised around in midfield, fed Anthony Stokes and Roy O’Donovan an endless supply of quality balls and who tackled as if he were challenging Patrick Viera a la Gavin McCann many moons ago.

His father was a top Gaelic games player and young David has all the attributes of those practitioners – speed, wiriness and above all an absence of fearless. One for the future and perhaps even for this season. A loan spell in the Coca Cola League would be beneficial – somewhere not too far away from the Stadium perhaps.

As for our hosts – well, they looked scrappy and it could be a long season for them. Colin Todd is one of the best players I have ever seen in a red and white striped shirt and I hope he can make something out of the collection of trialists, free transfers and youngsters who turned out for him last night. Unfortunately, the words silk purse and sows ear spring to mind.