There are many of us, myself included, who moan about football-free weekends during the season, but if you take a step back and think about it, they can be a good thing. That’s what I did the other day, and I realised that a Saturday without a match meant a Saturday without the stress of a Sunderland match.

No worry about the outcome, no worry about the results at other games. A rest for body and brain, if you will – all in all, a relaxing day. Spot of birdwatching, spot of walking, chop a few sticks (amazingly therapeutic) then a spot of football. Well, it was Shildon against Benfield, a match in which I had no real emotional investment, and as such was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. The evening went the same way – a nice relaxing meal which went really well until we were leaving, when the noise level from another table drew my attention and revealed that the place didn’t have many morals when it comes to who they let in. Well, it’s not much to claim that Fat Freddie eats in the same places that I do.

“Six pointers” are an unfortunate fact of life at the moment. If we’d managed to get a few more points on our travels (like at Birmingham, for instance), we wouldn’t have to put up with them, but we didn’t, so we do. I’d have personally taken four points, or even just the three, before tonight’s game, but it doesn’t work like that, does it?

The much-vaunted January window didn’t produce the huge migration of players from club to club, especially to us. Four in a month is, under normal circumstances, a fairly high number, but when you only get a month at a time, it’s not that many. Jonny Evans back again, Phil Bardsley eventually and after a few supposed efforts to land him, M’Voto from France and for the future, and the bloke from Sweden whose name nobody knows how to pronounce. Rard, Raid, Raidie, Rardie, Pricka, Pricha – I don’t know. Maybe the stadium announcer will get it right and put us all out of our misery. Personally, I’d like to see him start alongside Jonesy and batter the Brum defence, as he sounds like a bit of a tough nut that the fans of his last club are very sorry to see the back of. Speaking of Jonesy, my spy at Durham Post Office had the pleasure of serving him on Monday, and reports a very nice bloke who’s about nine feet wide. Andy Cole off on loan to Burnley (temporary replacement for Andy Gray, no less) is hardly a surprise and, based on what we’ve seen so far, not much of a loss - especially with Rade on board.

Meanwhile, I’d be remiss not to mention them up the road. Hard on the heels of the excellent article by Harry Pearson in the Guardian last week, in which he almost had me believing that Keegan had actually made the doors at Sid James’s Park smaller and employed midgets as security staff to make the players feel taller, they’ve gone and taken on the lovely Denis Wise. How can you trust someone whose eyes are that close together? A perfect match, I think (nor his eyes, obviously), and yet another reason to question the wisdom of the man giving out the jobs up there. Tony Jiminez, a former London property developer, as El Vice Presidente (or some such crap) of developing the youth of tomorrow? Their “management” structure looks like the credits for a particularly bad B-movie. Oh give over, even I couldn’t make it up. They’ll be selling shirts off a barrow before long. It seems to me that Mike Ashley might have made a fortune clothing the chavs of the nation, but when it comes to knowing about football, he couldn’t find the ground if he fell out of a tree.

Tonight’s came was apparently too soon for the frangible legs of Mr Edwards, so it was a line-up of Gordon, Bardsley, Noz, Evans, and Collins at the back, Yorke and Miller in the centre of midfield with Deano on the right and Stokes on the left, and Jones partnered by Murphy up front. We managed to start the first half kicking the right way and hoping that kicking south first wasn’t a prerequisite to a home victory. Jones won an early tackle and broke down the right but his low cross was cleared in time for the ref to stop the game so that he could blow his nose. Or something like that. When Brum broke, Noz put in a good tackle on the edge of our box, finding Murph, who passed to Miller, and then Yorke swept it out to the right, but the move eventually broke down. Collins then did some good mopping up before Noz conceded a corner, then played a bad ball out of defence that was rescued by Miller on 13 minutes, ending with a weak shot from Stokes. A minute later, a free kick just in their half was curled by Bardsley onto the head of Jones in the box, and the knock-down was swept into the net by Murphy.

A nice way to calm the nerves, and no more than we deserved, really, as Brum had shown a shocking lack of basic skills and organisation at the back. They then moved this inadequacy into midfield, but we seemed unable to impose any authority on that part of the pitch and the game continued at a fair old pace without any sort of control in the middle. Stokes took a clearance very well, but his pass just failed to get through into the box. Evans was the next to follow the safety-first approach, but Jones chased down his clearance into the corner, and he beat his man to drive into the box and almost got in a telling shot. On 27 minutes, Stokes showed what he is capable of by beating three men to get in a cross from the right of the box, but it just evaded Jones at the back post. Brilliant stuff, but not quite there. We wasted our only corner of the half a few minutes later when it sailed harmlessly into Taylor’s arms, but we still looked more likely to add another than the visitors were to score. On 33 minutes, we won a free on the right, and Murphy’s near post header was saved comfortably.

While both side struggled to get a grip on midfield, the game threatened to get as ugly as the Bigg Market after a mags game, but thankfully stayed just the right side of madness and we emerged with the ball more times than they did and did a good bit more with it than they did. When Brum did get forward, Bardsley put in another good challenge at the expense of a corner, but Gordon was fouled and we were safe. A slip allowed Cameron Jerome through, but Gordon did his stuff with his legs. Another corner, another corner defended despite Yorke clattering Deano as he cleared. As the three added minutes were announced, the bairn behind fell asleep – probably as a result of staying awake for the whole of the Pompey win. There was still time for Jones to chase down another apparently lost cause, backheel a pass into the danger area, but see it cleared. Noz played the ball forward, it was chested down, and Jones was there to shoot a yard over. 1-0 was a deserved lead at half-time, and the crowd (well, those of a certain age) enjoyed Vic Halom’s appearance as raffle-drawer. You could see him looking towards the North Stand and imagining whooshing away a thunderbolt, 35 years after his Man City moment at Roker. Ahh, the good old days. Bring ‘em on, Roy, I expect Vic told you all about it.

It was also nice to see a cheque for £100,000 presented by Britannia Building Society to Quinny, thanks mainly ( I’m sure ) to the reduced Durham Branch end-of-season beer fund. It all helps – you never now when we’ll need to pay for some unsold away tickets.

Neither side had been able to impose themselves on the middle of the park, but we had come out of it the better, thanks to Miller’s endeavours, Yorke’s patience, and despite Yorke losing the ball several times and Deano looking generally off the pace. In short, we had more quality there than they did. What the hell possessed James McFadden to move from Everton to St Andrews is beyond me.

The second half started with Prica (pronounced Preacher) in place of Yorke,, meaning that Stokes moved right, Murphy left, and Deano into the middle with Miller. Our new Swede wore his shorts in the style of Bjorklund and McPhail, and had the look of a faster Rod Belfitt (ask yer Dad) with an eye for goal. He quickly endeared himself to the crowd by knocking seven bells out of any Blue defender who had the temerity to come within dunshing distance. Which is nice, and a bit of pressure off Kenwyne. Despite all this, the first shot went to Brum, but it was thankfully well wide after we dithered on the edge of the box and lost the ball. Gordon got a good punch on a left wing corner, then their 15 produced a hilarious slice out of play, we took the throw, and eventually won a free-kick on the right a few yards form the corner of the box, but Murphy’s curler went comfortably to the keeper. At this stage, there were three words to describe the game - scrappy, scrappy, and scrappy – as the ball spent a good deal time travelling from one side to the other in no particular direction, but when it did come under control, it was generally us who made something of it. Balls forward to the Preacher man were often flicked on with a devious backheel – the sooner Jones gets used to them, the sooner we’ll profit. Birmingham continued to make their most memorable contributions funny as their 16 fell in a heap by slipping on the way to collect a ball that had run out of play, and we began to get some sort of grip on the midfield. On 62, Stokes was replaced by O’Donovan (AKA Jemima Puddleduck in some parts of the NW corner, something to do with the way he runs, apparently), and straight away we dawdled in the box to give Brum a chance, but they fouled Gordon and we caught our breath before launching into them again.

The ball was knocked over the defence by Miller, the defender put in a weak header towards Taylor, and Preacher man showed a nice ten-yard burst of speed to get there first, knocking the ball past the keeper when a collision seemed more likely, and in it went. 2-0, and he made a whole load of new mates in the NW corner by wading in and cuddling everybody. Apparently, nobody had told him it was against the rules, hence his surprise at the inevitable booking. 66 minutes, and just what we needed. – backed up by the announcement of Arsenal’s third. Birmingham brought on Forsell and a bloke with orange boots, and they gave away a corner. Miller’s whipped effort almost caught Taylor off his guard, but not quite. Prica was called offside for the third time, then Jones and Murphy did some good tracking back before it looked like we scored the third. Prica was on the end again, rolling over and scooping the ball in, but the ref saw a handball that few others did and it didn’t count. Down at the dangerous end, Bardsley produced a brilliant header to prevent a goal after we’d lost our cool and dived in a few times. O’Donovan took a foot in the guts with five to go, and we had a chance from the free-kick when Prica saw his header parried.

Murphy then fed the Swede on the left, and his early cross from way out wide beat the defence and was only a foot in front of Jones. Kenwyne got the ball back, rode a dodgy tackle, and the eventual cross was headed just wide by Prica. As the three extra minutes were announced, O’Donovan almost broke through, and we ended the game on the front foot, two goals ahead, and not really looking likely to do what we used to do – give the opposition a goal back and look dodgy for the last few. So the whistle went, we had the points, the other results sort of went our way, and we were worthy winners, jumping a load of places up the league and to within four points of Keegan’s entertaining, attacking, new-look Toon (no goals in three games). We’re coming for yer, yer black and white bums. Never the prettiest of games, but with just enough good stuff from the Lads to well deserve the win, and for once it was us showing the opposition that any mistakes in this division will be punished.

Man of the Match? Another decent and versatile performance from Murph, as solid a debut as you’d want from Bardsley who obviously doesn’t have the word “nonsense” in his vocabulary, rarely wasted a pass, and won more than his fair share of headers. A cracking second half from Miller. Prica had a debut as good Bardsley, and looks like he could give the team a really good option up front. Talking of up front, Jones did everything but score, proved invaluable defending at set-pieces, generally made life easier for his team-mates. Just wait until he and the Preacher Man are properly introduced. So it goes to Jones, who hoyed his shirt to some Trini mates in the East Stand. Prica tried to hoy his to his new mates in the NW corner, but it blew back. Nice start, mate.

Keep the faith, and let’s keep it going at Anfield...

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