Here it is, the first of the new season. It’s what we’ve all been waiting for, and the week got off to a good start with the a record fee (for a British goalkeeper) and ended with a record signing (for an Irish League player). Welcome Craig Gordon, who will apparently save every one of us (who-oh) and Roy O’Donovan. The arrival of the former is more than just us getting a new ‘keeper, but sending out a great big signal to the football world that we’re in business, and we’re ready to mess with the big boys as far as spending goes. OK, so it looks like Mido has gone from a potential world beater to a useless, fat, smoggy eejit in the space of a few hours. Time will tell, but by October he’ll have realised that he made the wrong choice and that Gareth Southgate is a great big fibber – allegedly. The feelgood factor has continued building, and yesterday Keano was spotted in Durham shouting “how much?” down his mobile, but he still says the right things to the media. As does Quinny, lately on the national news. Add to this the fact that chat show hosts are once more making jokes referring to Sunderland that aren’t of the pee-taking variety, and it’s fairly obvious that we’re back, and we’re very much in the eyes of the world.
I shouldn’t really complain about a 12:45 kick-off, as half nine out of the house isn’t that bad, but it is a bit of a chore for those of us who live down the country, so this more than makes up for them having a shorter trek to most away games. On the subject of away games, those forking out the ridiculous £35 for the Brum game could take the opportunity to show your displeasure at this blatant rip-off, about which the Premier League don’t have the guts to say anything, by refusing to spend any more money on programmes, pies, beer, or crisps. Do nothing, and they’ll think it’s perfectly OK do hike the prices up again, and others will follow suit. Be warned –do nowt, and it will get worse. Do something, and it might, just might, get better or at least stop getting worse.
Back to the main event, chosen ahead of FSA’s return to Bolton with his new bunch of overpaid rag-bags including Joey non-playing Barton “people only see the one side of me.” In the pub (early, early doors, as they say, out of necessity) and meeting up with the usual suspects. Well, not that many of them had been that much of strangers over the summer months, as we live in the same town, drink in the same pub(s), work together, and bumped into each other in Scunny and Ireland. So not much of a real break from each other, but so what? We talk about football when the season’s underway, we talked about football while we’re waiting for it to start. Back to the old routine, and it’s magic. I love it. The close season’s fine for holidays and such – getting it out of your system, but not very far - but life’s so much better when the football’s back. Ask our lass.
On second thoughts, don’t. She’ll probably be asleep.
Who will play left back, who will play right back? A very real possibility existed of us starting with no recognised full-backs, and there was a doubt over Flash’s shoulder. As with last season, only Roy knew what his team would be. Last year’s new starter, who’d seen the destruction of Derby in her first ever football match, was up again, despite being very lucky to still have her ticket, having hidden in under her keyboard at work for two weeks. So if you’re ever short of a ticket, and you know where I work, you’ll know where to find one. Anyhow, as she was arriving by train, and it was an early start, it was 11:35 in Jameson’s, not one of my usual haunts, but I’m always willing to give somewhere off my main list a try. The place had more than its fair share of Spurs fans (including one with “YID 0” on his back, which I can’t mention without fear of being called less than politically correct). There were a couple of decent pints before we hit the ground, which was in full big day mode. I even got interviewed for Irish T V, so if you’re of a red and white persuasion over in Eire, that was me talking complete shoite at about twenty to three.
We did indeed start with no fullbacks, as Flash, Deano, Wallace, Noz, and McShane made up our defence. Yorke, Etuhu, Edwards, and Richardson were the men in the middle, with Murphy and Stokes up front, and the game started with a lot of clever football from both sides. Spurs were very much the experienced Premiership outfit who knew exactly when to do what (in Chimbonda’s cse. It was when to fall down), and we were very much the new boys on the block. We won a corner on three minutes or so, but got nothing from it, then Noz found himself up against Berbatoav, who turned and won a corner. Thankfully, Berbatov committed a foul, we broke, and Stokes produced a lovely flick and turn to break free of his marker but it ended with a goal kick to Spurs. Richardson produced some good work down the left, then Noz showed that the Prem does not faze Mr Nosworthy the centre half as he cleared well.
As the half wore on, it became very apparent that there are a lot less nuggets on this division than the Championship –all the Spurs players seemed blessed with a good first touch. Richardson won a tackle to set up Stokes, but the eventual shot was way over, then Wallace won the ball and got in a shot than won us a corner. We were more than matching Spurs for effort, but nobody was busting a gut to get into the box, which is where their two central defenders were lumbering about, just waiting to be taken advantage of. Etuhu got in a header on about 36 minutes, then we created a great chance a minute later but were lacking Chopra to pounce. Gordon then went walkabout as they waltzed past him, but the rest of the defence were able to clear up.
Etuhu shot just wide, Spurs broke, and the half-time whistle went. Worth 0-0? Hell, yes. A nice cameo from Dick Malone filled up the half time break, then we were off again. Spurs appeared happy to play for a draw, but Stokes won the ball well and cross almost got us in, then Carlos fired in one. A free-kick wide on the right only produce a foul (allegedly) in the box, then Spurs broke again, allowing Chimbonda to show what a con man he is with a nice tumble. Get used to it Lads, it’ll happen every week.
Miller replaced Yorke on 56, and proceeded to take command of midfield. They brought on Bent for Tiny-oh (or something) and the ref produced some strange offside decisions as Spurs seemed reluctant to push their defence upfield. They did manage a good break which we did well to keep out, then Chopra replaced Stokes, who had run his socks off with little reward, on 71 minutes, shortly followed by Collins for Richardson. This allowed Wallace to push up more, but it was the visitors who showed first. Bent came up with an outrageous dive in the box, but the ref decided not to have a word.
Defoe replaced Berbatov (names, names, they’ve got lots of names) with about twelve to go. Flash continued to dominate his area by being in the right place and generally looking enormous, and Spurs continued to look like they’d be happy with a point. As the minutes ran down, we began to pile on a bit of pressure and the crowd really clicked in, creating a superb atmosphere. Etuhu looked more surprised than most when he found himself on the end of a free kick, absolutely free in the middle of the box, but Robinson saved and the chance was gone. The timekeeper announced three extra minutes, I was thinking that a clean sheet and a point wasn’t that bad, then up popped that man.
Who’s that scoring a last minute goal, it’s Michael Chopra, that’s who it is.
That’s what it’s all about. To and fro for ninety-odd minutes, then a killer moment of brilliance to win it, a finish as crisp and cool as you’ll see this season.
Man of the Match? Mr floppyhair himself, Paul McShane, who was everywhere at the back. A great game from Noz, and an impressive showing from Dicka, but it has to go to the new Shaun Elliott at the back.
We are top of the league, for a few hours at least. We showed guts and a bit of guile, but we’ll need to improve on what we showed to make a real impact. It’s a good start, and there are two coming up which we should not be frightened of. Bring it on.
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