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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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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The Horan dog and  settee may not have recovered, but Pete Sixsmith has, and is urging caution with regard to Monday night. How boring is that??   

Never let it be said that I will not invoke stereotypes if desperate for an opening line. A day at Bootle means that I am perfectly qualified to use the Harry Enfield gag from, oh, twenty years ago about Liverpudlians uttering the above words in high pitched voices.

But I do think that some of us need to. The impact of the excellent win at Stamford Bridge has really hit the region as red and whites have been able to stick their heads above the parapet after the disaster at SJP.

After that hideous experience, some folk went overboard, demanding the defenestration of the entire team and management. Bruce should be sacked, suspended, sent to live in West Cornforth etc. The players were a disgrace and the lot, apart from Bardsley and Bent should be made to play for Brandon United for a month.

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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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One Hundred Years to the day since we beat Newcastle 9-1 at St James’s*, Pete Sixsmith takes a look back at Roy Keane’s One Hundred Days at Sunderland ….
(* scroll down or click here to read Colin Randall’s heart-warming account of that famous victory)

As the Keane era ends, I thought it might be a good idea (and a chance to recycle some old comments) to look back at the Roy Keane Highs and Lows. Things that stand out for me are, in no particular order:

Derby and Leeds (away); I think it made us realise that we had a manager who could bring in decent players (Miller, Kavanagh, Wallace, Connolly) and that he could encourage them to play simple pass and move football. Great away followings too.

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