As a football fan who just happens to be Irish, Sunderland A.F.C has never been too far from my mind's eye.
This is in large part due to the influx of Irish footballers in the mid 90s and noughties whose careers were, at the very least, of passing interest to the Irish media, along with any international and Premier League fans back in the Republic.
Occupying various roles across multiple levels for the Black Cats throughout the course of their sojourns in the North East, Niall Quinn, Roy Keane, John O’Shea, James McClean and Aiden McGeady (to name but a few) raised the profile of the club back home. Where my generation is concerned at least.
Those who grew up in the 70s are likely to cite Charlie John Hurley as the Irish maverick responsible for their Sunderland awakening. Ireland's association aside, I’d be telling fibs if I proclaimed that I was an avid supporter from thereon-in, betraying one of the core tenets held closely by the club and their fans - that of authenticity. I did however always like to see Sunderland ‘do well’ (a very bland and passive statement I know, when compared with the unconditional amour fans devote to the club, week in week out.)
So what changed and when? At the risk of invoking the ire of any Roker End fans who may harbour resentment at the club's previous owner’s decision to document, for the world to see, such a traumatic and dramatic period in their club’s history, truth be told, I happened across the Netflix series ‘Sunderland ‘Till I Die and felt an instant connection that went far beyond the commonality of the Irish national player.
The gamut of emotions that Sunderland fans were subjected to in those two seasons throughout the years 2017-2020 jumped off the screen and provoked a visceral human response within.
The highs and lows, the frustration, the ecstasy, the demoralisation, the devastation followed by a period of wary hopefulness and finally the realisation that no matter the league, the fans would forever be present and proud at The Stadium of Light, moved me in a way that no football documentary ever has.
One clip in particular comes to mind. That of Andrew Cammiss, Sunderland season ticket holder, perched anxiously on the edge of his couch, listening to the game via a jumpy and static filled transmission on his radio. 3-0 down to Bristol City at half-time, the veteran lowered the volume to take a moment of reprieve over a cuppa. The kettle not yet boiled, he was resolute in his decision to return to that transistor (it wasn’t even a choice), despite the seemingly inevitable defeat awaiting him.
His faith was, on this occasion, rewarded, the weekly steepled invocations recited by the city’s priest to the congregation at Church answered. Sunderland levelled the match against Bristol City in the dying minutes to three a piece, sending Cammiss off the couch and punching the air. You just can’t fake that level of commitment
In a time when the purity of football (and the fan) has been diluted with eye watering amounts of currency and in fashion commercialisation of clubs in the top flight, his response, like every other Sunderland fan we were introduced to in the documentary, was refreshing. We know that this second wind, however, would prove to be too little too late.
And so as I watched Sunderland succumb to a hard fought relegation battle on two occasions, often in matches that, to quote Kanye, went right down to the wire, it became clear that Sunderland, despite the agonising side effects felt by its supporters, was a drug worth consuming, it’s high matched only by the rush of adrenaline that fans who etched their loyalty permanently to their flesh felt in the moments before the needle pricked.
The butcher, the priest, the club chef, the funeral director, the barber, the shipyard foreman, Sunderland football club had everyone hooked. In the latter stages of Season 2, as The Shipyard's ghostly lament by The Lake Poets hung in the air, I learnt that I would be no exception.
So what now? While it is admittedly too soon to declare my relationship with Sunderland a love affair, I know that I’m invested.
Having started to follow women’s football in the WSL, I have also learnt that many of its present-day stars and Lionesses (Jordan Nobbs, Beth Mead, Steph Houghton, Lucy Bronze, Jill Scott) honed their skills and developed as both people and players at Sunderland.
Despite playing a pivotal role in the evolution of a number of key players who would ultimately help England to lift the nations first trophy since 1966 (and subsequently raise the profile of women’s football in the UK), the coverage in the mainstream media of Sunderland Ladies (like for much of not only The Championship, but the lesser well known WSL clubs), leaves much to be desired.
Given all I have outlined in this piece, I have decided to follow the women’s teams progress along with the men’s and write match reports on the women’s games in The Championship and FA Cup. And now would appear to be as good a time as any.
Formed in 1999 when East Durham Houghall Kestrels and Sunderland Ladies amalgamated under the umbrella of ‘Sunderland Women’, the Lady Black Cats journey has been one of peaks and troughs. Having enjoyed early success, a myriad of factors including but not limited to, the restructuring of their leagues and a lack of financial investment marred their unblemished years of success with a peppering of relegations.
Despite the setbacks, following a comprehensive bid to join the FA Women's Championship in 2021, the Lasses were promoted to the league for the 2021-2022 season. Mel Reay’s side have since enjoyed a progressive campaign in the Barclays Women’s Championship to date, the team currently ranked 3rd. Only one point off the top spot, with the gap between Charlton Athletic and Birmingham City solidified by only a six goal differential, the season could prove to be a real nail-biter.
Following in the footsteps of the Lionesses who once pulled on the red and white stripes, a number of players have also earned international recognition following their performances at domestic level. A positive move in the direction towards becoming a full-time professional unit, the switch to a hybrid playing model will also see some members of the women’s senior team join The Lady Black Cats on a full-time basis.
Hearing current WSL players speak of the challenges they faced before turning pro, with particular regard to the difficult balancing act they were forced to juggle between sport and work/college, such transitions, when financially viable, can only benefit player performance and morale. Something tells me Sunderland Ladies are a team on the cusp of regaining their rightful place amongst the elite.
Watch this space…
