Sobs got so drunk the early afternoon of the Arsenal game he had to have a little sleep on the ALS settee before the match. He took some waking at 2.40 i can tell you and was still too bladered afterwards to write owt, so sorry for the delay in this piece...

As the stadium announcer at the SoL would probably say….”ONE MATCH TO GOHHHHHHHHHHHH”

…and nothing to play for. Apart from the obvious pride, and the extra wonga that each position up the table brings. Maybe it’s wrong to be so materialistic, but we’ll have as much as we can get, thank you very much.

As the last away game of the season means a weekend away, there was always a tube of toothpaste to buy, so as I shopped for the necessities, I chucked a tenner’s worth of beer in the basket, and our lass objected, so I put it back. She then proceeded to chuck in a jar of some sort of moisturiser/face cream that was priced at twenty quid, so naturally I objected.

“But it makes me look beautiful” she said, bringing the obvious reply.
“So does the beer and it only costs half as much.”

Sorry.

So we survived Blackpool (Ron’s innards, infected by something dodgy brought back from Cyprus, I reckon, didn’t quite make it home), then had a week to wait for the season to finish, despite appearing to disappear up its own backside at the Reebok as far as we’re concerned. Like I said, there’s money at stake, and contracts for a few players. On Thursday, Roy announced that there’d be no more Sunderland AFC first team for Stan Varga, Stephen Wright, Ian Harte, Cole, or Peter Hartley, and no more chance of it for Billy Dennehy, Jake Richardson, and Gavin Donoghue. Anderson, Halford, and Kavanagh still have time left on their contracts after returning from loan, but Anderson is probably the only one of those three with a possibility (that’s me being decisive) of a future on Wearside.

Rumours of who will be replacing them have already begun, with the inevitable Stephen Hunt, and the surprising Carlton Cole (not my cup of tea, and certainly not the prolific goalscorer we need) already mentioned in the press. Dwight Yorke’s contract is also coming to and end, but there’s more than a hint that he’ll stay on as player-coach, as he’s “doing his badges” like a good Boy Scout and Roy seems to like him.

So all change at SAFC this summer, I think.

Last game, there’ll be no lap of honour, according to Roy, but what’s he going to do if Nyron decides to have a walk across to the various parts of the ground and return the appreciation? Maybe Roy doesn’t realise that we have a lap of honour/appreciation/resignation/farewell every May? We’re not Man Utd, you know, where second is failure, and maybe the line has to be drawn somewhere between acknowledging support and accepting failure. Last time we played Arsenal at our place, it was a real game for the neutral, or anyone who really appreciates football, as they put on a master class, especially that Tut Henry, the bugger. Let’s hope that, with no higher position available to the visitors, they’ll be more amenable to an even game, even though Wenger has intimated that he’ll “play the kids” against us. Remember last time he did that? Aye, 0-3 at home in the League Cup, that’s what.

On the subject of kids, well done to Bally’s Bairns for their victory over Gateshead in the Durham Challenge Cup (or whatever it’s now called), our first in that tournament for over forty years. I thought I’d seen us win it, but I must have been thinking of the game against Bishop when Hesford wore his gloves on his feet (aye, he did) in the penalty shoot-out. Nice one, Bally and the youth of today.

Friday night was Cockton Hill Club and the Three Legends (at that esteemed venue for the second time in a month) and I had a ticket. A Sportsman’s Dinner, it said, which is a bit posh. As it turned out, it was three pies to our Gaz and two pies to me. Whatever you think of Horswill, he kept the show going well, and despite McDonald’s considerable kike, kept all three involved for the duration. There was an auction, as is usual on these occasions, of divers sporting memorabilia, and there guess who came home with a framed and signed Sunderland shirt? Aye, right, me, and when it started raining on the way home, my best leather jacket went over it to protect my investment. I managed to sneak it into the house without anybody noticing, ‘cos I’m clever like that, but I was worried that Gaz would spill the beans as Jude gave him a lift to work.

As we were John Burnip annual end of season day out (only non-attendee John Burnip) we stotted around Durham for a few hours before contacting home to let out better halves know what the hell we were about. At about half three, I got a text asking where I was, so I explained that I was in the Court Inn, enjoying a pint and a rather special burger. Five minutes later, I spotted the Sobsmobile drawing up outside, so outside we went. “Have a look in the boot” she said, so I did, and there was a circular paving stone with the club crest emblazoned on it. Fabulous, I said, which it was. What a lovely woman. Not to be outdone, I came back with “There’s a surprise for you when you get home as well.”

To be fair, and to get myself of the hook a bit, I did ask our Ian where I should put the framed shirt, and he said “There, right above your bed.” So that’s where I put it. (Photos available on request, but at a pint a time). Ten minutes later came the message that said “there may have to be negotiations, and I blame Ian.”

Whey hey, that’s me in the clear, than. Mebbe. And I think it looks fab where it is, being bought with the money I had left over from the Blackpool weekend.

From my house, it’s a walk of a mere few minutes to the Weardale Way, which, as any fule kno, goes west to Wearhead, and east to good old Sunderland. It’s long been an ambition of mine to make the journey to the SoL in a canoe, but I don’t own one, so the next best thing would be to do it on foot alongside that lifeblood of County Durham, that which throws through its very heart - the river Wear. I’d grown up on its banks, I’d crossed it before and after every home game I’d been to (apart from the Dark Years living on Tyneside), I’d plodged in it and watched birds from its banks, the weather was amenable, so why not walk along it to the match? Set off at first light and keep up a good pace, and there’d still be time to replenish my liquid content before the match.

On the other hand, the bus was setting of at eleven, and it would only take forty minutes or so to get to Sunderland, so the walk could wait. Traditional end-of-season-slightly-bigger-than-normal trip to the match. Let’s go for it. It’s a Bishop tradition, don’t you know?

So, Arsenal. What to make of them, eh? Potentially the most entertaining team in the league, but also the most frustrating. Fabulous football, but no trophies yet again. Perhaps they overplay it. Perhaps they need the SKP type inside forward to score a shed-load of goals to finish off their overall play, but I think there’s something else missing. Why aren’t they more efficient? Why don’t they score more goals? Why haven’t there much vaunted kids actually won something?

Let me know, I’ll bottle it, and sell it for £5 a pint.

The biggest surprise of the day was the resting of Gordon. What’s he being rested for? I hope he had a nice lie down. Deano was back at right-back, Noz back to the far safer centre-half position alongside Ebans, and Collins as usual. Across the middle were Carlos, Leadbitter, Yorke, Wallace, and Reid, with Lonesome Jones up front. For once, the formation actually worked, with Edwards smacking one just wide after a matter of seconds. There was a definite shape to the side, and by the time Walcott got on the end of a smart through ball to score the only goal, we’d just about matched the Arsenal in all aspects of the game. Yorke in particular was as cool as cool, paring up well with Reid in the centre, and Wallace showed what he is capable of. Fulop came off his line smartly to save from Adebayor (good for SAFC, bad for my dream team). A full house seemed to enjoy themselves with attempted Mexican waves and congas, and it seemed to inspire Edwards to his best game of the season. Leadbitter headed over when an equaliser looked a distinct possibility, and the first half ended a goal down.

The second half was more of the same, lively play from both sides, then Jones blocked a shot with his arm and that was him knackered. I’m sure I heard the bone break from where I sat. On came O’Donovan, Arsenal didn’t really cause us any problems in terms of shots on target, and the boy O’Donovan had a couple of chances before almost scoring right at the death. Yorke continued to impress (oh, if only he were ten years younger), and Wallace was a breath of fresh air. So we lost, when it would have been nice to win, but we played some decent stuff and there were a lot of positive things to take into next season. The question is which SAFC turns up – last week’s shower from Bolton or this week’s relatively bright young things?

Thanks for the season, Roy, and here’s to the next one.

Man of the Match? Yorkie, cool as cool, and bringing the best out of Leadbitter and Reid. Will he still be strutting his stuff next season as player-coach? Who knows.

Keep the faith

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