99 red ballons. So sang Nena years ago. I know where the 100th one is now!

As ever, it seems like an age since the last game thanks to the International Break. After the performance at Old Trafford, we wanted a game as soon as possible in order to hit the next opponents with a similar display. Not to be, but never mind, because we know now what we’re capable of. We had to wait over a week for Ferguson’s snivelling apology for an apology, which basically summed the man up – he’s a bully who is so used to getting it all his own way that he simply can’t bring himself to acknowledge when he’s made a mistake, be it tactical or personal. Never mind, we’ll do them properly at our place.

Speaking of doing things properly, the internet nonsense that was supposed to be Ukraine against England showed how not to do it. There being no Sunderland game, and no chance of me paying to watch England on tinterweb, I got a bus up and went to the pubs I normally go to before home games. The barmaid’s face when fourteen of us booled into the King’s was a treat. “There’s no game on, you know.” Well, there was Wales U21 against Bosnia & Herzegovina U21 on the big screen, so we watched, tried a pint at Doyle’s and the Salty, then heard the first half on the radio on the way back. I tried to watch the second half in the pub that had wired the Web into the big telly, but the picture kept freezing, vanishing, and being obscured by customers. Oh well, there will be Wednesday, and there was. Only three of us turned out, we tried the King’s in Bishop, had the big screen to ourselves, and the talk was of today’s game rather than that night’s game. It certainly seems to have caught the imagination of the neutral football fans, and this is reflected in the number of empty seats at the SoL – precious few. The match itself was probably most memorable for John Terry protecting Ferdinand after his poor recent performances – maybe the casual nature of his mistakes is a family thing. After Brucie’s comments about the reaction to his awarding Man of the Match to Beckham the other night, I’d like to see him bump into Stan Collymore at some time very soon. Maybe today, when Stan is summarising for someone or other, at the SoL.

We’ve filled a space in midfield (central and wide) with yet another experienced international in Bolo Zenden, a former team-mate of both Cattermole and Cana, who will do nicely for me. Nice that players of his pedigree look to Sunderland as a good career move, and nice that we got his clearance through in time for today. We came through the internationals largely unscathed, with only Mensah suffering an injury, but that still leaves us a bit light at left back, so that position was still up in the air as the day approached. Having said that, the media would have you believe that Benitez was considering not playing the game because Gerrard and Torres are unfit, and he’ll have to replace them with some foreign blokes with names you can’t pronounce. While he will be no doubt bumping his gums about players returning from international duty with injuries, in typical Premier league style, we have the opposite in Lorik Cana. Our man has revealed that his post-football career of choice is in archaeology, and that he’s already visited several Roman sites in the North East as well as exploring Durham City. If ever you need a tour of Binchester, the Bishop’s Park, or a look around Weardale’s lead mining areas, I’m you man, Loz. What they call a refreshing change, I think.

We lined up Gordon
Bard Ferdy Turner McCartney
Steeed Cana Catts Reid
Jones Bent

King south, like we should, and in front of a full house, we went straight into our allegedly more illustrious opponents and made them look pretty ordinary, especially in their awful change strip. Jones found Reid a couple of minutes in, and the shot was powerful but too high, then Kenwyne and Bent combined, as they often do this season, but the effort was cleared. Then it happened. With less than four minutes gone, we cleared a Liverpool free kick for Catts to race through the middle and play the ball to the right. In came the cross, out went the clearance, and there was Darren. Bang, 1-0. Cue madness in the stands and whining (more of that later – the whole match, as it happens) from Liverpool. Apparently they were distracted by a balloon on the pitch. As far as I could see, the only balloon having any impact on the game was the ref, who gave the visitors a free every time they fell over, while allowing Jones in particular to be shoved from pillar to post. But I digress. Goal apart, we were on top of Liverpool most of the first half, playing better football, and defending effectively, if a little desperately, on a couple of occasions when we got into a tangle. They had an effort form Babbel well over, then Reid fired a free kick into the wall, and the two follow-ups were charged down.

Jones was showing why John Terry hates playing against him by having Carragher’s life, and we backed that up with good midfield play. Cana and Cattermole were all over the visitors, and when they got it wide again, Bent could only head the cross at the keeper. Bardsley got in a vital tackle on the penalty spot as ‘pool whined about something else, and we advanced again. Bent was within a whisker of his second with a flashing header, and still we knocked it about. In the three added minutes, Liverpool put us under a bit of pressure, but when we broke out the ref missed the most obvious of pulls on Steed. Nowt unusual there.

One nil, and well worth it, with 11 shots on goal to their seven – but Gordon hadn’t really been under any pressure. It was nice to see us playing our own game against a “big” side, rather than sticking five across the middle in an attempt to stop them playing.

No sign of McCartney after the break, with Henderson on, Cana at centre half, and Ferdy at left back. Not what you’d want, and it did hand them the opportunity to get hold of the ball a bit more in the middle of the park. Hendo made a great break, then Catts nearly poked the ball through. He got up to win the ball and thread a brilliant ball through Liverpool legs for Bent, but for once Dazzle took a touch before shooting, and the effort was saved. Catts went down twice in a minute, the second bringing out the stretcher amid more whining from the visiting players. On came Zenden, the first player to appear in the league with a surname beginning with Z. You can have that one for nowt. So we had half an hour play with what can only be described as an experimental central midfield, but they found Jones, who fed Bent. He raced into the box, headed past the keeper, and poked a shot off the post under pressure and from a very wide angle. More good passing from Zenden found Jones again, but a whack on the ankle brought out the stretcher again, as Carragher showed what an odious excuse for a man he is by constantly moaning at the ref about Jones lying on the ground. This resulted in two things – the appearance of Campbell, and continuous abuse for Carragher. He’s too lazy to play for England, but he’s happy to whine at somebody who’s nearly had his ankle broken. Horrible bugger.

We had to with stand a fair bit of pressure, but looked dangerous on the break, especially when Steed tore into the box, but took too long to unleash a shot and it was smothered. They brought on Mascherano, presumably to learn how to tackle fairly by watching the imperious Cana, and My Little Pony. With Campbell playing wide and keeping Johnson under wraps as much as possible, Reid moved into the middle. Seven added minutes brought lots of Pool pressure, but Cana and Turner were immense. Henderson ran the ball into the corner, won a couple of throws, and that was it. Magnifico.

Not so for Benitez, who’d blame someone else if he shat his own pants. Not so for Carragher, who has scored more goals against Liverpool than any other player in the Prem. We played our own game, and it was better than Liverpool’s.

Man of the Match? Cana, who is obviously superhuman

Keep the Faith

Cana v Mascherano. That’s how to tackle

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