Leg one of this year’s big playoff experience ended in massive disappointment after a fairly turgid first half was followed by a spell of brightness as the second half opened, then disappeared in a flurry of Sunderland-ness. Sloppy defending allowed a first goal, then a daft Burge welly into an onrushing Imp allowed a second. It’s all left us with not so much a mountain to climb as a psychological Matterhorn as we now have a two-goal lead to overcome, which at this juncture feels about as likely as winning the lottery without buying a ticket.
By way of a novelty, I sat with people I go to home games with – albeit in the pub, but at least it was with people supporting the Lads. The biggest number of people I’ve watched a Sunderland game with since Bristol Rovers away last year is one – our Ian, on a phone in a caravan, three weeks ago. I’d booked my table as soon as the playoff dates were announced, and there was to be the added novelty of Villa on the adjacent TV, so that Villa Dave (who supports Villa) could sit with us. Then the mags had someone explain to them that they were also playing at 6pm, against Sheff Utd. All of which meant that they’d be booing the team in red and white – which suited me fine, as we lined up in our blue away tops, which are pretty close to the 1994-95 “teal” effort I’d chosen for the evening. Proper fashionista, me.
Team selection? To be honest, with Lincoln signing an emergency keeper because one of theirs got a bang on the head yesterday (coincidence? Give awwa) it made me wonder why we didn’t go for a centre half when we’d broken all of ours. The emergency keeper in question is none other than Josef Bursik of Stoke, who’s already this season been an emergency keeper at Peterborough and on loan at Donny. Stoke getting revenge for a dodgy signing from us? Possibly, but that’s stretching the rules to absolute breaking point – taking the piss, in plain English. As far as we’re concerned, I’ve not really thought about who’d play and who wouldn’t. Big Chas has three goals against Lincoln this season, we’ve scored six pens against them - five in a shoot-out – and knocked them into next week at their place when they could have been two up before we got all clinical and scored four. We’ve got McGeady, and our very own big-game lover Chris Maguire. My thoughts were that he’d probably not start, but get the chance to repeat one of those cameos that have been a feature of recent games. Add Jones, Diamond, and Gooch and you’ve got pace and drive to worry any defence.
Tea done, nervousness kicked in - as nervous as I’ve been about a football match since the EFL final, perhaps more so because it was going to be vaguely like normal as I’d be with others , proper gut-tingling, foot-tapping, had-trembling, netty-visiting nervous. Seats taken, beers in, TV adjusted for maximum effect, catching-up with matchday marras completed, 6pm arrived.
Burge
O’Nien Flanagan Wright Hume
Scowen Power
Jones McGeady Gooch
Wyke
Two central defenders, playing as two central defenders? What’s that all about? We kicked off attacking the goal to the left of the cameras (I believe there were more than one, as it was proper televised football) and settled into our shape for the opening exchanges. McGeady fell in behind Wyke, with Gooch on the left and Jones on the right. Lincoln’s Scully, who’d been a proper pest in previous encounters this season, shot way over the bar with the game’s first effort, while we tried gamely to make progress down the wings. A shot from outside the box on our left was fingertipped onto the foot of his right-hand post by Burge, but by the time the resultant corner was taken Hume had limped off, replaced by McFadzean on ten minutes. Things were levelled up injury-wise not long after, when Jackson, who’d spent fifteen minutes clattering Wyke without upsetting the ref, joined Hume in the players’ bar on fifteen, replaced by Montsma Gooch had a pop with what’s become a trademark effort when he turned inside onto his left peg and curled his effort just wide of emergency keeper Bursik’s right-hand post. After an even start, Lincoln had grown into the game better than us, but as the half wore on McGeady in particular began to make inroads when he drifted out to the left and pinged in a couple of crosses.
As the final five minutes of the half arrived, we at last got on top, albeit not on particularly convincing style, as our central midfield persisted with their default decision of turning back over rather than passing forward, meaning that most of the stuff Geads and Johnson had to chase was long balls from Flan and Wright. Three added minutes were announced, and we had fifteen minutes to argue about who would make way for Maguire.
Nobody did, but we attacked the end where (I think) our fans would have been situated from the off, and looked set to blow the home side off the field as we displayed more positivity in the opening few minutes of the second period than we’d shown in the whole of the first half. Jones did well to work the space for a shot in the inside right position, but Bursik dived to his left and tipped it up onto the bar. From the corner, on our right, Geads found Wright at the back post, but his firm header smacked off the bar and was cleared. At this point, our Ian stated “at moments like this I wish you didn’t support Sunderland so I wouldn’t have to” and I had to agree with his sentiment.
Six minutes into the half, the Imps attacked and Burge produced a great save with his legs, only for the rest of his defence to only clear it as far as the edge of the box despite having two or three goes at it. The ball was played back across the box from our left, it hit a couple of bodies and found Hopper in yards of space at the back, from where he popped it past our keeper.
Aw, man.
Still, there were forty minutes or so in which we could get something, but Lincoln went all Premier League, falling over at the slightest contact and O’9 was booked for wrestling his man to the ground – a fair booking, but where was the contact that prompted that Lincoln mad to clutch his face as if he’d been punched? Nowhere. A wayward home shot brought howls of derision from the Sunderland fans (in the pub), while the Lincoln drum rattled our nerves. Get Maguire on, please, Lee, and get the home fans wound up as well as the home players. Geads dance din from the left and fired in a shot that Bursik did really well to save, but, in what we prayed was a moment of karma, hurt himself in the process. Not enough to leave the field, unfortunately, and he helped defend the resultant corner.
With about twenty minutes to go, the subs warmed up, and eventually two of them jogged into the fray, with Leadbitter replacing Power and Stewart replacing Jones. This meant that we had two bug fellas up to, although Stewart showed that he’s more than just physique by tending towards the right side of the field.
Gooch produced some good footwork to find Geads, but the shot was just over the bar as we tried to level the score. A couple of naughty late ones left Stewart and Wyke on the deck, with old boy Bridcutt being booked for the second of those. Gooch made inroads down the right, but his low cross was pounced on by Bursik with fifteen to go, and then O’9’s effort from another Gooch cross was cleared – had VAR have been in operation, there’s have been a penalty for handball, but the ref wasn’t interested and opted for the easy life, as he had since the kick-off.
Wyke ran onto a clever pass from Stewart, straight down the middle, but his effort was save and an offside flag raised anyway. Two minutes later, a Lincoln attack was broken up and Flan passed back to Burge. Rather than hit it along the ground to either fullback, our keeper opted to hoof it straight into the onrushing Johnson, who then had the simplest of tasks to roll the ball into the empty net. Emergency centre half or goalkeeper, anyone?
In a moment of irony, there was a stoppage as Leadbitter clattered Grant, and another when Wyke was flattened, but to be honest I’m clutching at straws in making excuses. With the game, and the telly-watchers crying out for a Maguire cameo, Diamond replaced Flanagan as we went for bust. Six added minutes were announced, Leadbitter tried his luck but a deflection took it wide of the goal and we couldn’t profit from the corner.
And that was it. No excuses, no matter how hard I try. We got what we deserved from the game, and after defending most of Johnson’s tactics in the last six months, I feel compelled to question his decision not to use Maguire. The man is made for such occasions as the play-offs, and half a game from him would surely have produced a different outcome. As it is, we have a deficit which is much larger than a mere two goals, to overcome on Saturday, and progress to the final is an outcome only the most optimistic/daftest would risk even fifty pence on.
Man of the Match? I’ll give it to Gooch, who had a couple of efforts that went close and put in a few dangerous crosses.
