The Sixer's Soapbox

The world saw Pete Sixsmith shaking his head in disbelief, or rather all too familiar belief, at Molineux. If you thought that made for dodgy television, wait until you read what Pete makes of having been present at the chilling reality of one more Sunderland collapse …

Martin O’Neill started to follow Sunderland at about the same time as M Salut and I.

We all worshipped Charlie Hurley, Jimmy McNab, George Mulhall and others of that generation. That side was a good one that failed to establish itself in the top flight because of a dithering board of directors. Our current custodian of the club has acted quickly and has appointed a manager renowned for being successful. What on earth did he make of Sunday?

He must have been impressed with the two Kierans and Sessegnon: all three did well. For 70 minutes, he must have nodded his head in approval as Brown and O’Shea strode through the game and looked like the players we expect them to be.

Larsson, Bardsley and Colback would probably have him thinking that they were competent, if limited Premier League players. He saw the best and worst of Cattermole – a great through ball to Bendtner in the build up to the goal, preceded by a needless booking when he attempted to hold up a Wolves player. He won’t be starting next Sunday as it was his fifth yellow of the season. Not a captain who leads by example.

I don’t think he would have been impressed with Ji Dong-won or Bendtner. The Korean looked way, way out of his depth, while the Dane did not seem to have a great deal of, shall we say, “personal motivation”.

As Larsson lined up to take the penalty, O’Neill could well have been thinking that we had won it and it relieved the pressure. Twenty minutes later, he would have been thinking that he and his coaching staff have an awful lot of work to do between now and next Sunday if we are to stay out of the bottom three.

This was a four game stretch that was supposed to start our season off, four winnable games against teams in the same category as us: strugglers. From three games, we have taken one point – and that came courtesy of a glaring Clint Dempsey miss.

We have taken the lead in the last two and have proved incapable of holding on to it. This week, we contrived to let Steve Fletcher loose in the box on two occasions so that he could score. That’s what Fletcher does – put him in the box and he scores. Presumably, neither Brown nor O’Shea realised this and so left him unmarked.

But the main problem came in the centre of midfield, where our two limited members, Cattermole and Colback, were pushed back by their two limited members, Edwards and O’Hara. Four similar players, neat and tidy, good ball winners, lacking in imagination, but the Wolves pair seized the opportunity to push us back. Plus, they have an outlet in Jarvis that we do not. Width and pace are sadly lacking in O’Neill’s inherited team.

The first half was distinctly average, with a great save from Westwood and a Sessegnon shot cleared off the line being the only notable incidents. Wolves concentrated on getting the ball to Jarvis, but Bardsley handled him well and Fletcher and Doyle did little to trouble the centre backs.

Richardson’s excellent goal gave us hope and when Larsson tumbled over Craddock’s outstretched leg for the penalty, it looked all over. He made the most of it, but Craddock did have his leg in the way and there was minimal contact. Phil Dowd was perfectly positioned and was right to give it (Salut! Sunderland split shock – ed).

Whether Larsson was right to take it was another matter. Sessegnon took the last one we got and stroked it in nicely. Larsson appeared to be intimidated by the unhappy crowd and the giant figure of Hennessey and took a penalty that I could have saved. Poor stuff!!

I turned to Ronnie McDonald and said: “We’ll lose this now.” That was based on 50 years of watching Sunderland and I know when we are about to fall to pieces. Had we scored, the crowd would have been quietened and may well have turned on McCarthy and we would have coasted home.

Instead, they perceived that a wrong had been righted and went up and scored. Wolves fans can be a miserable bunch (QPR and Swansea at home show that), but when they get the bit between their teeth, they can lift players. Which is exactly what they did.

The previously unruffled Brown and O’Shea now found themselves under intense pressure and could not handle it. Jarvis skinned Bardsley, O’Hara might have handled it in the build up to the winner but Brown lost Fletcher and that was it. From a position of dominance, we were now in deficit and never looked like levelling.

The new management team have this week to instil some confidence in a bunch of players who are severely lacking it at the moment. Goalscoring is a problem as there is nobody we can rely on to get us one when we are under pressure. The midfield does not impose itself and it will be interesting to see who gets in on Sunday. There are rumours that Gardner has not settled and may be off to Wolves in January. O’Neill has already sold him once.

As for Wolves, they worked hard throughout and personify Mick McCarthy: gritty, determined and reliable, a hard side to beat if you allow them to come back at you. It was a huge win for them and gives them hope for the future. That’s the third season running they have come from behind to beat us at Molineux. They must love playing Sunderland.

Next Sunday is now a real six-pointer and a serious test for the new manager. Expectations of a 17th place finish are all that we are interested in at the moment, but a resurgent Rovers team may well dump us in the bottom three. Martin O’Neill must be thinking wistfully of the Hurleys and Crossans of another world as he looks at the collection of odds and ends that make up the squad he has inherited.

It is not quite official. But all the signs are that Martin O’Neill, famously a boyhood supporter of Sunderland, will soon be confirmed – and not for the first time of asking – as our manager. Pete Sixsmith climbs on to his soapbox to offer a hearty, if premature welcome; Salut! Sunderland readers will probably beat M Salut to the news when it formally comes ..

So it looks as if the heart has won and we are going to appoint Martin O’Neill as the 28th Sunderland manager (including “caretakers”) in my 50 years as a supporter. He joins an auspicious group alongside the likes of Bob Stokoe, Peter Reid and Alan Brown – and also those who had less auspicious times in the Roker/SoL hot seat in Mick Buxton, Ian McColl and Howard Wilkinson.

For many Sunderland fans, it is an appointment made in heaven. Pete Horan texted “I can feel the buzz coming back” while friends at the Brandon v Thornaby game last night were enthusiastic about bringing a top class manager into the club for the first time since 1985 and Lawr .. well, let’s forget that one.

What are we going to get for Ellis Short’s money? O’Neill is a motivator, a man with European experience and a man who has won trophies and guided his teams to the upper echelons of the Premier League. He has a reputation for being animated, for being touchy with journalists and TV reporters and for not suffering fools gladly – so bang go my chances of an interview with him.

He has principles as his walk outs from Norwich City and Aston Villa show. Short may well find him pricklier than Bruce, who came across as a manager who knew what was good for him in potential conflict with the owner. Would O’Neill have let Gyan go at the last minute? I doubt it. Would O’Neill have really pushed for the money to bring in a winger? I think he would.

He now has Bruce’s squad to work with until January. The always reliable Pat Murphy (who must double as O’Neill’s agent) has said a number of times that O’Neill does not need a shed load of money and will work within reasonable financial parameters; something which he felt was missing with Randy Lerner at Villa Park.

There are some decent players to work with, but there is an imbalance. There are too many hard working midfield players; we have insufficient flair. No out and out wingers to get the ball across to the one genuine forward we seem to possess.

The defence seems solid, although O’Shea will need to get out of the comfort zone he appears to inhabit. He has been the most disappointing of the summer signings as I expected a lot more from him both in terms of ability and leadership. I am as sure as I can be that there will be no comfort zones under O’Neill.

He has a chance to assess the squad on Sunday. They need to impress. Keith Scott reminded me of the situation when Keane was appointed after the Southend/Bury debacles. Players who had been disinterested and offhand suddenly gave themselves a shake and beat a team that were near the top of the league. Keith said that they had been cheating Quinn and that if they could play as well as that when a new manager was watching, why hadn’t they done it previously?

Should we perform at Wolves, Steve Bruce may well be asking the same question.

Pete Sixsmith mulls over the two most-mentioned candidates for the managerial seat left vacant by Steve Bruce’s dismissal …

So, the inevitable has happened and Steve Bruce has left the club. I was in no doubt after Saturday that he was as close as close could be to the sack; when it didn’t come on Monday, I thought he had been thrown a lifeline, but once again, I was wrong.

The owner has done the correct thing as there was little possibility of Bruce retrieving his relationship with the crowd. Three lengthy periods of turgid football and poor results, interspersed with the odd sparkling display, had done for him and it was better to put this horse out of its misery now.

It has been suggested that the sacking was delayed as a mark of respect to Gary Speed and this may well have played a part in it. It is more likely that the club were sounding out potential candidates before dispensing with his services. The last thing we wanted was to be scrambling around for a manager with two vital games coming up.

The fact that Eric Black has stayed indicates to me that an appointment is imminent. He will probably leave as soon as the new man arrives, the unfortunate thing being that we will also probably lose the excellent Keith Bertschin, who has been a real pleasure to watch as reserve team boss. He is the antithesis of Bruce – calm, thoughtful and full of encouragement.

The two prime candidates are Martin O’Neill and Mark Hughes. Both are available and both would probably relish managing an established Premier League club with strong support and strong potential. Had we retained Bruce and our Premier League status at the end of the season, I would have gone for a younger manager, but this is no time to be taking steps into the unknown, so the likes of Adkins, Lambert and Poyet have missed their opportunity to manage the greatest club in the world.

So, which one do we choose? It’s a bit like Nursey in Blackadder 2 offering Pony Club Queen Elizabeth “right breasty dumpling or left breasty dumpling”. Both are attractive propositions, but there is little real difference between the two.

As I drove home from a postponed game at Bedlington last night, my thoughts fluctuated between the two. Both have a good record in management, both have managed more successful clubs than we have been for umpty dozen years and both are available.

Michael Gray gave a glowing testimonial for Hughes, saying that he would be an ideal fit, while the always excellent and totally reliable Radio 5Live journo Pat Murphy said O’Neill would be very, very interested in taking over and would not necessarily want a huge pot of money to spend on players.

My pal Pete Horan plumps for O’Neill arguing that he is the living embodiment of Brian Clough and a man who is “a perfect fit for Sunderland. No doubt there are others out there who would speak as well for Hughes.

A new era begins. The manager has left, welcome to the new one. We must hope that we will not be echoing The Who’s words “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

In an ideal world, bright SAFC publicity people would have told Pete Sixsmith: “Get yourself along to the Reserves; someone’s due a hammering.” Instead, the 7-0 demolition of Scunthorpe was out of bounds to Salut! Sunderland and practically everyone else. So Pete joined Steve Bruce and others at an FA Youth Cup game – and saw us beaten…

Away from the brouhaha surrounding the continued employment of Steve Bruce and the sadness surrounding the tragic demise of Gary Speed, there has been some football played.

In the afternoon, the reserves demolished Scunthorpe United 7-0 at the Academy (but we’re not allowed in to watch) with Ryan Noble getting a hat trick in four minutes. Pity he couldn’t have done that against Fulham. He must be in line for a place on Sunday and if on the bench, and will with any luck be given longer than last time on the field.

Last night at a cold and draughty Eppleton, our beleaguered manager watched the Under 18s take on their Nottingham Forest counterparts in the 3rd round of the FA Youth Cup.

Like the Carling Cup and, presumably, the FA Cup, our interest ended at this, the first hurdle, as Forest ran out deserved 2-1 winners.

It was an entertaining game settled by two strikes from a very impressive Forest centre forward called Patrick Bamford. His first, to level after George Honeyman had put us ahead, was a rasping shot, his second a very impressive header. No careless penalties or schoolboy defending here!

Honeyman had taken his goal well after some impressive approach work from Mikael Mandron, a tall and bulky French striker and winger Glen Lane. But we looked uncomfortable against the probing of Jack Blake and Wilfred Gnahore and never got to grips with Bamford.

His movement off the ball was excellent and Jordan Lavender and Thomas McNamee, our two central defenders, struggled against him all night. He has a touch of cockiness about him as well; his goal celebrations at the corner flag were clearly designed for future TV coverage.

Bally was disappointed with some of his players and his voice could be heard ringing out as he told them to help each other out and get tighter. Bruce, guarded by Nigel Spink, watched from the main stand and was, as far as I could tell, left alone by those stood or sat nearby.

He now has the three most important days of his professional life as he prepares a team for the game at Molineux. The midfield must be more positive, the attack more concentrated. Whether he wants to throw a youngster like Noble in to what could be a real snarl of a match, is a difficult decision. He is handsomely paid for doing that – though his recent decisions have not been good.

We shall see …

Pete Sixsmith, with apologies to Bon Jovi (or was it a band called Europe?) for his headline choice, is fed up. From Bardsley’s impersonation of Jonny Wilkinson (can conversions be that high in rugby?) to the kamikaze defending, yesterday was no day for faint hearts; Sixer’s nearly gave up the ghost …

At 4.49 on Saturday, the usually reliable Wes Brown made an elementary error to hand Wigan Athletic their first away win of the season and, in all probability, start the process that brings down the curtain on Steve Bruce’s 30 months in charge at the Stadium of Light.

Brown’s error was inexplicable, on a day that featured hapless central defenders in Wesley, the manager and David Corner, dragged from well deserved obscurity to do the half time draw to applause that was so muted as to be almost sepulchral. However his error at Wembley did not lead to howls of derision coming down from the stands. Brown’s did.

I have never heard Sunderland fans turn on a manager like this. From all four stands came “Bruce Out” and it got louder as the final whistle went. Reid got some of it, Wilkinson was booed, Keane was grumbled at, while poor Mick McCarthy was given oodles of sympathy because he had nothing to spend.

This was a full scale mutiny from fans who love the club, who want it to succeed, who have sat and suffered for 11 months and have been rewarded with two home wins. These are fans who pay £400 for season tickets, who come every game and, like Peter Finch in Network are “as mad as hell and ain’t going to take it any more” The clear feeling was that enough was enough.

And yet, it started so well. The passing was crisp and sharp and for 35 minutes, it looked like a game between a side on the up and a side stuck at the bottom. Bendtner held the ball up well, Sessegnon ran at the defenders and was kicked for his pains, Richardson looked dangerous and the defence was untroubled. When the impressive Larsson took advantage of an error by Al-Habsi, we sat back and awaited the oft promised kick start.

It failed to materialise. The keeper made up for his mistake with good saves from Richardson and Brown, but the turning point came when Phil Bardsley missed an absolute sitter in front of goal. From that moment on, the confidence drained away and Wigan began to believe that there was something in this game for them

Moses began to run at the permanently disappointing O’Shea and when Larsson clumsily nudged him in the box, Gomez put away the penalty to level up a minute before half time. Had we gone in 1 up, it would have eased the pressure. The crowd would have applauded them off. Bruce could have emphasised the positives. But we didn’t.

We started the second half well, but it soon began to fall away. Bendtner kept out of the Wigan box, allowing Caldwell and Stam (hardly world class central defenders) to organise and clear their lines. Al-Habsi was not forced into one worthwhile save in the second half as crosses whizzed along the line and defenders blocked shots.

The substitutions smacked of panic. Off came Cattermole and Bardsley to be replaced by a new central midfield combination in Gardner and Vaughan. They had 25 minutes to try and change the course of the game and they failed. Then, O’Shea went off to be replaced by Ji and Larsson went to right back rather than slinging in centres at the still to convince Korean.

This decision probably sums up Steve Bruce. Here was a game we had to win – a draw was as bad as a defeat – and he cannot/will not trust his defenders to hold out while the kitchen sink (or in our case, the kitchen washing up bowl|) is thrown at the opposition. Safety first all the time; so little spark and imagination.

Then came the blunder that will be talked about for weeks and it was all over. Wigan had not forced Westwood into a single save, yet they had won. Players slumped to the ground prostrate and the jeering cranked up.

Martinez took over at Wigan at the same time as Bruce took over at Sunderland. He has had considerably less money to spend and cannot lure players to the DW Stadium with promises of a passionate crowd and immortality.

But what he can do is organise a side. Whoever he picks, they will know exactly what they have to do. They will be well prepared, well briefed and will play to a pattern. The midfield pushes forward, they have pace and although they are lightweight up front, they have willing runners who do not drift in and out of the game.

We far too often appear to be 11 men in Red and White shirts who are told to go out and play. Midfield sits deep. Sessegnon is told to be tricky. Bendtner is told to put himself about. But there does not appear to be any plan or any coherent approach to the game. It’s all about “rolling the sleeves up on the training ground”. I can hear Martinez and the young breed of managers coming through (Adkins, Lambert, Rogers), having a wee chuckle at that.

What now? Bruce handled the press conference with dignity and a degree of honesty – although he was not publicly prepared to admit to any shortcomings. He said he is not a quitter and that he is sure he can “sort this out”. I wonder.

He will have an awful week. There are many who would happily drop him off the Wearmouth Bridge and few who would throw him a lifebelt. He will probably remain in charge for the Wolves game and, if we win that, the Blackburn one. Lose either and he will be gone.

Ellis Short is from Missouri and Missourians are known to be sceptical. It is known as “The Show Me State”, indicating that, for those from Independence Mo, actions speak louder than words. His actions over the next two weeks will show us if Short can follow in the footsteps of Harry Truman and make a very difficult decision and cut loose a manager he has backed. 40,000 people wait expectantly, Ellis.

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.

From the Sunderland point of view, this was a wasted opportunity to get the season started – in November, just as the Christmas lights are going up and those of a certain disposition come over all wobbly at the sight of the John Lewis Christmas ad.

We have played 12 games, which is 31.57% of our season. We have won twice, once against a side who have been sidetracked by Europa League fixtures and once against a side who had lost every home game played this season. Should we carry on at this rate, we will end up with 35 points – and we all know what 35 points means; we should, we have been there enough.

We played a side who, to use a hoary old cliché, “don’t travel well”. They are a predictable side. You know exactly what you are going to get with Fulham; neat passing, strong but immobile central defenders, diving from the wretched Andy Johnson, and Bobby Zamora claiming that he has never once committed a foul in his entire professional career.

Good sides will beat them as will most half decent sides. We drew.

So, why was this? Forget the rubbish about the Cottagers being Bruce’s jinx team, as there is no such thing. Instead, look at the team he picked and the way that he set it. He was frightened of losing so he made sure that we played a similar game to Fulham in passing the ball around aimlessly in midfield and then hoping that Sessegnon might just magic something up for us.

We went into a home game with Cattermole and Colback in the centre of midfield. Both played well, but they are limited. They scrap away, win the ball and lay it off tidily. Both can tackle but neither can open up a defence or get behind the forwards to score.

Where was the midfielder who could play that telling ball? Where was the midfielder who could get behind the forwards and bear down on goal? Sitting on the bench for the whole ninety minutes, that’s where they were, while our Egyptian winger ran around a lot and achieved nothing and our first choice left back started well but faded away around the hour mark.

Vaughan and Gardner are spotted as rarely as a funny quip by Ant and Dec or a telling comment by Alan Shearer. Both came with decent reputations. Vaughan was Blackpool’s Player of the Year last year, above Charlie Adam – the same Charlie Adam who starts regularly for Liverpool, that is.

Craig Gardener would, we were told as we stumped up our season ticket money, solve the chronic lack of goals from midfield, leading to the release of Malbranque and Riveros.

Both have had minimal impact, principally because they have not been playing. Vaughan has had a few bumps and bruises (he played 35 times for Blackpool last year!) while Gardner has rarely been played in the forward position that he clearly favours.

There is a feeling that we paid massively over the odds for him and that the manager is not impressed with him. £6m wasted perhaps as he becomes the new Shaun Cunnington – plays well against us, is rubbish for us. But let’s give him a game and play him behind Bendtner.

On the way to the game on Saturday I offered my team selection. Richardson to stay at left back, with Cattermole, Vaughan and Colback strung across the middle, Gardner in front of the 3 but behind Bendtner and Sessegnon looking to pick up whatever came back from the two forwards.

Instead we got a typical Steve Bruce midfield – unimaginative, uninspiring and unable to score. This cautious approach to a game that needed to be won will be the death of us.

The substitutions were even less impressive. Ji Dong-Won sent on after a long trip back from Korea and a less than ringing endorsement from his national coach, replaced Colback, allowing Sessegnon to drop back. That left us with a non-tackling midfield as Cattermole was one slip away from a second yellow and the other three couldn’t tackle Twiggy.

Why not Noble? He would have put himself on the shoulder of the last defender and might just have got into the box and had a pop at goal. Instead we had Ji who plays a long way away from goal and became an auxiliary midfielder.

Like 37,000 others, Vaughan and Gardner had to sit and watch this ill selected team try to put together a move that would give us a winning goal. They were probably as frustrated as we were, but at least they were being handsomely rewarded for shaking their heads at a struggling manager. We had to pay for that dubious privilege.

Wigan up next week and if we lose that one, then the time for the curtain to fall on Bruce’s Sunderland career will come before we are sick of Christmas lights and adverts.. As it is, he surely cannot expect a new contract in June. His pride should dictate that he keeps us up this year – but it’s a tall ask at the moment.

OK, it was only a reserve game, but it’s always nice to rub their noses in the dirt, and 

A cold night at the unsponsored, unsullied Stadium of Light, but the cockles of the heart were warmed by Ryan Noble’s hat trick to see off a previously unbeaten Mags second string. Premier Reserve League it may be, but after our recent dismal run against the representatives of The Great Satan, it’s good to put them in their place.

He scored them in eight minutes as well. The first one was a strong shot which Jak Alnwick, brother of wannabe porn star Ben, should have saved. For the second, he picked up a rebound from the keeper who had failed to hold a strong Jordan Cook shot, but the third was an absolute cracker.

The impressive James McClean played in Michael Liddle with a very clever back heel and his through ball set Noble loose in the box and he crashed it past Alnwick to earn a standing ovation.

He knows how to celebrate as well. After his opener, he took off to the area where the Mags were standing with his arms outstretched and jumped around in front of them. Oh to see him do that at St James, sorry, The Sports Direct Arena in March!!

He will get all the headlines tomorrow in The Reserve League Express, but there were other valuable contributions from a strong Sunderland side.

David Meyler ran and ran and ran. He looked supremely fit and must be a candidate for Larsson’s place on Saturday. One tremendous lung burster in the second half would have been a goal had Noble’s pass been better weighted.

It’s very easy to imagine him as a Gaelic footballer. They are like sharks, cruising around all the time and they never stop. Having witnessed a couple of games at Croke Park in the days when Sunderland and Ireland were synonymous, I honestly believe that the levels of fitness for this game are even greater than those of top level Rugby League players. Meyler plays his football in the same way. Great to see him back.

Another Irishman, James McClean did well, particularly in the first half, when he ran at his full back and put in some dangerous crosses. The more I see of him, the more I like him and he must be close to a first team game, possibly in this season’s FA Cup tie.

Louis Laing played at full back so that Matt Kilgallon (remember him) could be scouted by a gaggle of Championship clubs. Both did well as did Kilgallon’s partner, John Egan. He was on the bench at Old Trafford and is another one who will be looking for a first team start before the end of the season.

To be fair to Newcastle (difficult I know, but it has to be done), they turned out a much younger and far less experienced side than ours, with most of their players having gained first team experience at Gateshead (Alnwick, Tavernier and the wonderfully named Norwegian, Joan Edmunddson). They contributed to an entertaining game and they had one or two players who looked as if they could make a career in lower league football – preferably with Newcastle.

They brought a number of raucous fans with them, some of who managed to get themselves ejected – at a Reserve game. They were singing a song about a tailor and a wall – possibly some old Tyneside Music Hall ditty written by Ridley Geordie or some such character. However, there were no painted bed sheets. Shame.

Earlier in the day, I had revelled in my status as a retiree, by taking in an equally competitive Reserve game between Hartlepool United and Hull City. City had a Frazier Campbell look-alike playing called Cameron Stewart, who scored a very good goal and then fell down a lot.

Pools equalized in the second half and former Sunderland player Nathan Luscombe almost grabbed a winner just before the end.

So, a good day out and a win over the old enemy. Let’s see if the first team can produce a repeat performance next time round.

War clouds may not yet be gathering in Europe, but the financial system nears meltdown. Crisis is everywhere. Recession bites deeper. Tom Watson calls Murdoch junior a mafia godfather. People starve in Africa. And which of these is the hot news in the North East? Pete Sixsmith is up on his Soapbox to fulminate …

Well, I woke up this morning and I found that the world had not come to an end.

Outside the gates of Sixsmith Towers, people made their way to work, Arriva buses ran late and the cat demanded to be fed every 40 minutes.

Everywhere else, the threatened collapse of the eurozone dominated the national news agenda. But not if you lived in the goldfish bowl known as the North East, because the euro crisis, Murdoch’s attempts to flannel his way round a Select Committee and the idiocy of the Republican presidential candidate Rick Perry, were all shoehorned out of the way by the devastating news that St James’ Park is no more.

We had 18 minutes of it on BBC Look North last night. Interviews, with people shopping, interviews with Fat Freddie, interviews with John Hall outside his stately home at Wynyard, and interviews with a man who had painted himself black and white and who was carrying a piece of cardboard that carried that immortal message beloved by all those of a Magpie persuasion “Sack The Board” (at least it wasn’t “Sack the Borde – ed). I am sure there are babies in Byker who utter this as their first words, closely followed by “Gi us a tab”.

Anyone would have thought that Armageddon was just around the corner. Instead, we heard the usual slew of fanzine editors saying that the owners had shot themselves in the foot (no feet left after sacking Keegan and Hughton and overseeing a relegation). Nobody quite said “Armageddin sick of Mike Ashley” but you get my drift.

So, St James’ Park, the iconic home of the greatest underachievers in world football, is to become The Sports Direct Arena and then something else if they can flog off the naming rights. As if the majority of people in the North East care.

“It’s all about bringing more money into the club,” said the pundits. “We can raise £10m and spend it on players,” said the chairman Derek Llambias, a man as popular on Tyneside as King Herod was in the Bethlehem Maternity Ward. All of which is true and in many ways makes a lot of sense, but it cut no ice with the fans.

“It’s our spiritual home” they wailed. “It will always be St James’ Park.” And of course it will. They will continue to call it that. Signposts and Metro stations will not be changed. Nobody will refer to it by the sponsors name, which makes a sponsorship deal seem a wee bit less likely.

But what an over reaction. The ground stays where it is. The team is still Newcastle United. Presumably they will still be called The Magpies and will wear black and white stripes. Little has altered – a cosmetic name change at worst.

Instead we get a hysterical press and hysterical pseudo fans getting themselves all “upset” over a name. It’s as artificial as the row over the X Factor contestant who allegedly took drugs and was kicked off – a “career” over before it had even begun.

We lost Roker Park and moved on to a well built stadium that serves the fans well. We were upset and those of a certain age look back fondly on the old ground in a way that we can never look back at the SoL. But things change.

For Newcastle United things must always be as they were. I am sure that some of them would still prefer to be in a ground that was so decrepit that it was passed over for the 1966 World Cup in favour of Ayresome Park.

I look forward to my first visit to the Sports Direct Arena in March. By that time it may have undergone another name change. The Poundland Arena anyone?

Pete Sixsmith uses Sixer’s Soapbox to deliver warm eulogies to two great characters of the game who have died in the past week or so …

The death of Jimmy Adamson at the ripe old age of 82, makes me think, with some fondness, of the days when managers were not subject to the intense scrutiny that the likes of myself, Birflatt Boy, M Salut and many others put them under. How many current managers would have survived Adamson’s first months at the club?

For those too young to know or too forgetful to recall, he was appointed in December 1976, with the club in 21st position in the old First Division.

Bob Stokoe had resigned in October and Ian McFarlane had taken over as caretaker. I gather he was not very popular with the players and they may well have been pleased to see the back of him.

Adamson came in with a good pedigree as a player and a coach. He had captained Burnley to the League Championship in 1960 and had gone to the 1962 World Cup as a player – although he became Walter Winterbottom’s chief confidant and preferred successor.

Jimmy Adamson*

He had been out of the game when he was appointed as Sunderland manager and he made a dreadful start, losing his first seven league games and going out to Third Division Wrexham in the FA Cup. His Ashington roots suggest that he had followed the Black and Whites as a youngster, but nobody seemed to hold that against him – no more than they had done Bob Stokoe.

The turning point came when he cleared out the old guard (Dick Malone, Ray Train, Billy Hughes) and brought in three fresh faced youngsters who were to have a great impact on Sunderland AFC over the next few years – Kevin Arnott, Shaun Elliott and Gary Rowell.

A couple of goalless draws against Stoke and Arsenal stopped the rot and then we went on a glorious run, losing only three of the last 16 games. In successive home games we scored four against Middlesbrough and then consecutive sixes against West Brom and West Ham, leading to vast expectations from the Roker faithful.

That we went down was probably due to dropped home points against Newcastle and Derby County as much as the last day fiddle involving Jimmy Hill – but it’s much more fun to blame the ski jump chinned one than it is to be realistic.

The next season we were favourites to storm back, but it never really happened and after a reasonable start to the 78-79 season, he was head hunted by First Division Leeds United to replace Jock Stein and took off for an unhappy two years at Elland Road.

He didn’t achieve a great deal on the surface, but he did bring through the three previously mentioned and gave Joe Bolton and Rob (“Thunderboots”) Hindmarsh regular places in the first team, so I reckon he deserves our thanks for almost turning the team round after a horrible start to life in the First Division.

A couple of days previously, the wonderful Hungarian centre forward Florian Albert had died in Budapest after heart surgery. Nicknamed “The Emperor”, here was a player who combined the touch of David Silva with the goalscoring record of Brian Clough and he was one of the finest players I ever saw.

His Sunderland connections are fleeting – he played at Roker Park on the losing side in the World Cup Quarter Final against the USSR – but he was one of my favourite players of all time, mostly because of his performance in a group game against Brazil.

He had a subtlety of touch that has rarely been seen since. If you summon this game up, look for the ball he plays to Ferenc Bene, allowing Bene to set up Janos Farkas for Hungary’s second and my best ever goal. A truly wonderful pass and so typical of him. See the clip below.

RIP, two distinguished figures who epitomised all that was classy about football. Carlos Tevez and Asamoah Gyan eat your hearts out.

* With thanks to the Clarets Mad Burnley fan site

On one level it doesn’t matter, indeed it is entirely correct, that no rules were changed to enable Sunderland to win a penalty for handling the ball. But if another level exists, you can trust Pete Sixsmith to find it before lauding a giant of football …

Let’s imagine the conversation between the referee Lee Mason and his assistant Jake Collin round about 4.30 on Saturday.

Collin has put his flag across his chest to indicate a penalty for Sunderland.

“What is it Jake?”

There was a handball, Lee. Looked like a penalty to me.”

“Are you sure? I thought the Sunderland player touched it. You have to be absolutely sure, Jake.”

“No, not absolutely sure, Lee.”

“Ok, free kick to the Reds. Play on lads”.

Now, let’s imagine it was at the other end, the end where Manchester United were attacking, the once fearsome Stretford End, now a sanitised singing and banners area as far removed from United’s roots as a club for the people of Manchester as it could be.

Assistant Mick McDonough has put his flag across his chest to indicate a penalty to Manchester United.

“What is it Mick?”

“There was a handball, Lee. Looked like a penalty to me.”

“Are you sure? I thought the United player touched it. You have to be absolutely sure, Mick.”

No, not absolutely sure, Lee.”

“Oh s***. Look I’m going to give it. Fergie will go ballistic if I don’t and if the crowd ever wake up, they might do as well. Anyway, it’s his 25th anniversary, so he deserves it – and who cares about Sunderland? Penalty to United and if you don’t stop complaining Mr Cattermole, you can get yourself off.”

As it happened, Lee Mason got it right; it wasn’t a penalty. It was his decision and he made it. The assistant cannot give a penalty but he can suggest to the referee that there was an infringement that merited the award of a penalty kick. Collin did this, Mason said he didn’t think so and that was that.

Mason had a good game, although I reckon I could have refereed a game so lacking in real drive and passion. But there will always be that suspicion that we were been treated as United would have been in the opposition penalty area.

I know I am a bitter, twisted and cynical old goat and I also know that United were the better side and deserved to win. But it sticks in the craw when deep, deep down we know that a similar decision at the other end would most definitely not have gone in our favour.

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The goal came just before half time when we failed to concentrate at a corner taken by Nani. Welbeck jumped ahead of Brown and the ball missed him, scraped Brown’s head and went in.

Frustrating, disappointing and annoying are the words to describe how I felt at half time. We had had the best chance to score when Bendtner forced a good save out of Lindegaard and had looked neat and tidy in midfield, with Cattermole showing the kind of restraint that a slimmer in a chocolate shop would envy.

Losing Wickham so early meant that we had no rhythm to lose up front. Ji took a while to settle, but came into the game as it progressed. Sometimes he is too ambitious and he tries too hard, but he holds the ball up well and could be a genuine asset in the future.

But – and it is a big, worrying, but – there was little or no penetration from midfield. The ball went square and backwards far more quickly than it went forwards. Cattermole, Colback and Meyler have scored a big fat zero of goals for us. Good teams get goals from the centre of midfield – which is why United dropped Rooney back there to complement Hernandez and Welbeck and why we bought Craig Gardner.

Maybe we should have pushed him on instead of Meyler. It might have worked, although I suspect not. Meyler did play the one really good ball through to Larsson and Bendtner was inches away from turning it in in the 89th. minute.

There are some positives to take. Westwood had an excellent game in goal. The save in the second half was of Montyesque proportions, but I was more impressed with his handling and sound judgement. He looked like a man determined to carve out a career as a Premier League and international keeper.

However, wins for Wolves and Bolton put us under pressure in the nether regions of the league and it makes it essential that we win the next three home games and pick something up at Wolves. We are not a bad side and nobody has hammered us. We have competed well against Liverpool, United, Chelsea and Arsenal without ever looking like winning.

The key results and performances come against the sides around us and below us. The management team have to get the balance right in these games. Hopefully Wickham’s injury will not be serious – he appeared reasonably comfortable as he was carried off – and he can resume his promising partnership with Bendtner tout suite.

Finally, a word of congratulations for Sir Alex Ferguson (I bet he’s been waiting for it). His 25 years at one club is remarkable. When he took over at Old Trafford, we had Laurie McMenemy in charge and since then have suffered the likes of Howard Wilkinson, Mick Buxton and Terry Butcher while enjoying Dennis Smith, Peter Reid and bits of Mick McCarthy and Roy Keane.
Image: Andrea Sartorati

He’s a wily old rogue and he has created a succession of fine teams. We have sat back and grudgingly admired the likes of Ronaldo, Beckham, Giggs, Rooney, Schmeichel, Bruce, Pallister and Cantona, while he was even charitable enough to throw a large amount of money at us for the hopeless David Bellion.

Maybe we can beat him at least once more before he retires and I shuffle off this mortal coil – although I am not banking on it.