Somebody once said (it might have been Tony Adams between pints) that if you walk past a barber’s shop often enough, you’ll end up with a haircut. So it is with Martin O’Neill (as one fan commented, if he ever gets sacked from the Sunderland job, he’ll still be favourite to replace himself) the arrival of whom is about as surprising as Bruce’s departure – it was bound to happen, sooner or later. And all the rubbish in the press about the fans driving him out is complete garbage. OK, so a few took it too far, but when I saw Bruce at the youth FA Cup game on Tuesday, he looked as calm as possible. Fair enough, he had the probable trousering of the best part of a three-year contract to keep him happy, but there was also the formidable presence of Nigel Spink, looking like a youthful Warren Clarke with a hangover, to keep him safe. The truth is, as Bruce said himself when he arrived, that he wasn’t judged on where he came from, but on his results, and at the end of it all, they just weren’t good enough.

While there was an air of inevitability about our situation, there was exactly the opposite about Gary Speed. Right at the other end of the spectrum, there was a football man who appeared to have done everything right, to have had a great playing career and to have a very promising managerial career ahead of him. How deceptive appearances can be.

We left Durham in the sleet, we passes a hundred Santa Clauses running through Derby, we ate Sunday dinner in Lichfield with a guitar accompaniment, and had the FA Cup draw live on the bus - home teams Pete, away teams Rob. Wolverhampton was wet, dark, and cold, with the incomplete stand towering over the other end missing only the obligatory builder in a hard had sipping a cup of tea and watching the game for free. Some bloke called O’Neill was up in the stands, SKP waved and smiled from the TV shed in the corner, and Eric Black picked his first and last Sunderland team. Injury to Turner made his job easier, as they lined up

Westy
Bards O’Shea Brown Rico
Larsson Catts Colback Sess
Ji Bendtner

We looked to have a bit of shape about us, we pressed forward and forced a couple of saves without really testing their keeper – Sess’s shot going straight into Hennessey – with Bendnter and Ji both firing low and wide – as did Ji. In a scramble in front of the visiting fans, Westy did well to claim the ball and keep it just the right side of the line. Sess got on the end of a good move but his shot was blocked, and Bendtner headed well over before Larsson tried his luck from distance. At our end, Westy produced another fantastic save, palming away a header as he was moving the wrong way, and Bardsley took a knock. Brown and O’Shea generally handled the Wolves attack well, while Bendtner found Craddock still mobile enough to keep him out of the box. The Dane has an annoying habit of dropping back into midfield, meaning that when Larsson looks up to make a cross, one of his prime targets is ten yards from where he wants him to be. Lots of possession, but the lack of quality chances, or an unwillingness to take responsibility and shoot, let us down. Catts did his usual trick – mercifully spared the burden of intelligence, he committed his customary needless foul right under the ref’s nose, and got his customary yellow card.

Level at the break, which we weren’t too bothered about as we looked like we’d maintain the large share of possession and surely get a goal – which we did, and what a belter. We broke from defence through the middle, Sess took Bendtner’s backheel to break down the left, and then it was rolled into the path of Rico who hit a beaut that swerved past the keeper and sent us into raptures in the rain. Off came his shirt to reveal a vest informing us that Rico belongs to Jesus – yellow card, of course.

That gave us impetus, and we piled forward. Right on the edge of the box, Larsson was upended and produced an unnecessarily flamboyant tumble, but still a penalty. He hit it hard and low but too close to Hennessey, who saved comfortably. Guess what? Straight down the left, cross into the middle, and a headed equaliser from Fletcher after Brown had lost out to Jarvis. Again, we got to the ball to the edge of their box but fannied about rather than getting a shot in, and they were away down with a cross in from their right. A fairly obvious handball – obvious insofar as we could see it from our end – controlled it and Fletcher was there again to fire it in. Jesus – sorry Rico – only we can turn attack into defence in the blink of an eye and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Elmo came on to have a few runs down the right, and Sess was replaced by Noble for a couple of minutes - what’s the point? Just like last year, we lost a game we should have won and looked weak in the final fifteen minutes as the Wolves central midfield, hardly world beaters in reputation, pushed us back and forced us to concede ground. Colback doesn’t have it in his nature to break forward often enough, while Catts can only push us one way, and that’s backwards. Plenty of us used to criticise Whitehead, but he’s playing in Europe and looking positively attacking compared to his replacents.

Plenty to think about for O’Neill – in fact, enough food for thought to solve the world’s famine problems. There’ll be a few worried for their Sunderland careers, and rightly so, because we’ve become a real soft touch. Failing to beat Villa, Fulham, Wigan, and Wolves is relegation form, and there is much work for the new man to do.

Man of the Match? Probably Sess, as he tried to create things.

Keep the Faith

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