SOBS: COV

Well, what can I say? That's not something Sunderland normally do - fabulous buildup to the game, full house... in short, the sort if game we've buggered up in the past.

Not this time, no siree, even if we did spend a while wondering who'd be taking our penalties before Big Dan invoked his inner Charlie Hurley for the second time in five days to bang his header in off the underside of the bar in virtually the last second of added time at the end of extra time.

Not like us at all, but perhaps that's all changed. It might not have been pretty, as we spent an inordinate amount of time conceding possession and space to Cov, but the end justified the means. The scenes in the stands - including the newly named Jimmy Montgomery stand - were madness when Ballard's header bounced down and up and in. All that nervousness released in a split second in the knowledge that there would be barely enough time to restart the game. For the first time during the game, I had to sit down, put my head in my hands, and try to take in what had just happened.

Anyway, back to the very beginning, which is a very good place to start - a very nervous day built up to a late departure from Bish (where three busloads of Cov fans had fetched up) meaning we missed all the traffic and were there to catch the hind end of the spectacular buildup. The ground was bouncing, the whole area was tinged with red, and the Cov fans brought their noise - please let us be singing "sway" at the end of proceedings.

Spoiler alert - we were.

An unchanged team, which was a bit of a surprise..

Patterson

Hume O'Nien Ballard Cirkin

Neil (c) Bellingham

Roberts Le Fee

Mayenda Isidor

... and a bench of Moore, Mundle, Hjelde, Rigg, Watson, Samed, Browne, Jones, and Mepham.

The place was absolutely bouncing with nervous energy the like of which the SoL hadn't seen for ages. The big black cat was awesome, the fans' response to it even more awesome, as was the appearance of Monty to have a stand named after him. Marvellous.

Cov must have won the toss, and they defended the North end and let Cap'n Dan kick off. From the off, it became apparent that we'd be trying to replicate Friday's smash and grab efforts, but we had a bright start. Mayenda flexed his muscles to get through only for keeper Ben Wilson (one Sunderland game in the Peace Cup for us) to get a vital toe to the effort. Nearly, Lads. For me, we then went a bit deep, but the blues still foundered on our rock solid wall at the back. Could we make it work for 90 minutes? Seemed a bit of a dangerous game plan, but on Friday...

Part of Cov's game plan seemed to be to fall over just before a pass arrived at their feet, winning them numerous free kicks - much to the disgust of our fans. Isidor was carded for a dive in the Cov box, we kept trying to get it to Mayenda at every opportunity, but didn't manage it very often.

Sakamoto was continuing his peskiness, but Cirkin generally forced him onto his wrong foot, although he wasn't that bad with it. Consequently, our midfield had to be on the ball when he switched back to bring his central midfielders into play - which was often. We tried a bit of pressing nearer the halfway line rather than in our final third, but didn't manage to put the visitors under pressure - but you could see the spirit amongst the Lads, and that's a big thing. Coventry created a couple of decent chances, but Rudoni and Sakamoto snatched at them and Patto"s gloves remained unwarmed.

From then until the break, it was a story of Coventry trying to push at our goal and us defending well with the crowd making a crazy din. Coventry sang because they were on top possession-wise, we sang because... well, we are Sunderland. Wilson (their keeper) escaped without punishment for a wild dive into Wilson (our striker), three added minutes were played out, and there were no goals at the interval, meaning we were 45 nervous minutes from a date with Sheffield United.

As we nervously, but excitedly, discussed what Reg should do in the second half, out came Defoe to talk us through that volley against the Mags and have us hoping for someone to do something similar in the second half.

No changes, and more of the same in terms of play and noise, but we came close to sneaking a goal when a clever dead-ball routine found Hume at the back post and his perfectly executed volley forced a good save.

Their keeper was booked along with Jobe for a bit of nonsense after a Sunderland corner as passions rose, serving only to get the crowd roaring a bit louder.

As the clock ticked down past the 75 minute mark, van Ewijk atoned for his Friday night error by taking over from Sakamoto. Down the right he went, and the cross was met by Mason-Clarke, just ahead of Hume, to poke it low past Patto.

Oh. That could have signalled disaster in the form of Cov going for the kill, but it didn't happen. Whether it was them breathing a sigh of relief or us deciding enough was enough, I don't know, but the potential of extra time seemed attractive to the visitors.

There were seven minutes left when Rigg replaced Isidor (not renowned for his penalties) and the fresh legs were both necessary and welcome. Two added minutes were given, and in the dying seconds Sakamoto put in a perfect cross, only for Wright to provide a threepenny bit (fifty pence bit for our younger fans) head moment as he contrived to put his header well wide.

Extra time, and I don't know how many Weetabix our Lads had for breakfast, but it must have exceeded the standard two. Our fitness levels seemed to rise as Coventry"s waned, giving the crowd extra reason to roar them on. Five minutes in, Roberts, who'd worked hard but to little positive effect, made way for Mundle and Romaine's energy was an instant boost. They managed to find three added minutes, just to test our fitness further, but it was still level on aggregate as we started the fourth period of play.

Just after Rigg collected our fifth yellow of the night we set up Mundle coming in from the left, and it took a fine block to prevent his placed effort flying into the net. Ha'way Lads, get it sorted, I've no wish for penalties! We pushed forward, another two minutes were announced, and on came Hjelde for Cirkin. Summat wrong with Dennis's spot-kicks, like?

We went past one of those minutes and into the second, winning a corner on our left, with the vocal encouragement reaching epic proportions. Le Fee curled it to the near post, Big Dan Ballard rose from amongst a knot of players, bent almost double to make contact with his brow, and thundered the header off the bar, down, and in.

Pandemonium on and off the pitch. Sky blue shirts flopped to the grass in exhausted disbelief as Dan twirled his stripes above his head and set off on a celebratory gallop around the pitch. Fans bounced around as the ground erupted in joyous acknowledgement, and by the time things settled there was barely time for Cov to restart before the ref blew for the end of a tense, dramatic encounter. Playoffs? That was them summarised in a nutshell.

'Til the end? Right 'til the end.

There was no going home for a good while, as the players celebrated and acknowledged the contribution of the fans. Atmosphere? Probably the best the SoL has ever had, given that it lasted over two hours of football. The club played our songs, they played Sway, we swayed and danced our eventual way out of the ground and off home, giggling and smiling all the way.

Man of the Match? I'll give you one guess. Dan the Man.

See you at Wembley - but who'll be wearing the stripes?