The drive is wet. Sunderland is pleasingly gloomy. I wait outside the ground for a bit and listen to the gentle pre-match static, the north east lilt a sing song texture of anticipation. A tinny pop song cuts through my reveries. Sweets, fizzy drinks and lots lots more are all apparently £1.50. One of the stalls outside appears to be the sugary equivalent of the Radio 1 roadshow with a Bruno Bookes type figure peddling treats to passers by. I imagine Ben Mansford getting everyone around him excited at the prospect of sharing some fizzy flying saucers but then only offering £1.40. See what I did there?
In an unexpected turn of events, I park (very badly) an electric van from the future that doesn't belong to me and then in a completely unconnected event, out of the blue I get interviewed by ITV, which I'm surprisingly nonplussed about, like people off the telly are always coming up to me. In retrospect, it was a bit weird. I just want to get into the ground. The police are shit at football is basically what I tell the telly. I'll never know if they use it or not.
The team... No Jordan Gabriel. Apparently he shook hands with Danny Coid and both of their arms fells off. I jest. But only just. There's Jerry, Shayne and Gaz. A hoverfly, a wasp and a bull. There's a joke in there somewhere. They all go into a bar. I hope the punchline is goals. It's probably that they all get injured.
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Not a lot happens for a while then our old friend Elliot Embleton get chance which he floats stylishly against the bar.
Kenny Dougall has the same run as last game where his discomfort at being free and with space to run into is obvious. He looks like an animal escaped from a terrible cruel science lab who is sprinting free but into a world he doesn't understand, every step forward, more confusion and panic coming into his eyes. Instead of heading towards the goal or passing to Jerry in acres of space, he runs to the corner and falls over. I think he was a bit overcome.
A deep cross. Madine booms a header back across. Wright is there, Marvin is there and Connolly slashes just wide.
That wasn't a bad chance but generally, Sunderland have control. They're pleasing on the eye and seem confident to use the full pitch and back themselves to move the ball about with a bit of pace and style.
Wright nicks it... He runs across box. His shot is always rising and it floats up and away into the stand. Intent though.
Doug's rats. Patino profits and digs out a gorgeous lofted back spinning ball. Jerry has space and we win a corner. We win a lot of corners tonight. This one is fairly typical in that it comes to nothing and I can't understand why Patino, who has just played a pass under pressure that would grace a World Cup is below Kenny Dougall (who mind blowingly might, I suppose actually take a corner in a World Cup one day) in the corner taking pecking order. If he can knock that sort of when being tackled from behind and running at full tilt, what could he do from a corner with no one tackling and the ball nice and still?
Sunderland then have what could generously be called a 'spell' and less charitably called 'a long period of battering us and doing everything but scoring.' Their play is crisp, decisive and at good pace. Shayne does that Shayne thing of doing a great thing then a rubbish thing immediately afterwards. On two occasions he puts in a great tackle but then undermines it immediately each time with a terrible clearance twice. Pressure, pressure and more pressure. We can't get out. Maxwell makes a diving save as the ball swerves wildly. A ball across the face of goal somehow isn't put home even though it seems to zigzag back across about three times. A perfect slipped pass needs Maxwell racing out to foil the striker at his feet. Good goalkeeping, but everything else seems to have gone to pot.
Marvin steps out, storming forward, determined to take the pressure away. He runs 30 yards and no one shows for him. The runs they make are bizarre, like they haven't noticed Marv is a centre back and needs an easy ball. He's got nothing... the pressure is straight back on. A great block. A wild clearance. A lost second ball... More pressure. Repeat.
Finally we twat it away. Gaz takes it on his chest, he brings it down, he shimmies, beats his man and fuck me, he's through! It's like Stanley Matthews haunting an Iveco truck. The problem is, Gaz isn't very fast so the lad he beats just runs back and Gaz knocks it wide to Shayne and all we get is a throw in...
More pressure. Another shot curled over... Finally the whistle goes.
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We hung in there. Just about. By the skin of our teeth.
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We need to assert ourselves more. As we do so, the attempt breaks down. They race on and Thorniley makes an utterly superb challenge, the effect of which reminds me of what would happen if you threw and egg at a granite statue. Jud is unmoved, his expression doesn't change. He just trudges onwards. He's ignited a spark in the crowd though who had been flat in this half up till now.
Next, the trudger trudges forward with the ball but unlike Marvin earlier, he has got a Baresi moment at his disposal, seeing Yates in space and curving the ball perfectly to the little talisman who roars at them towards the box and draws a corner. Describing what happens at the other end of the Stadium of Light is a bit like describing what happens in an ant colony you are looking at from three floors up, but the corner leads to a sequence of three 'oooooohs' and then a load of singing... That's better.
Another corner, a near post flick and another 'oooooh' - we're on top and we're playing well. Lose balls are snaffled up, they can't get out. Thompson is snarling into well time tackles. Patino is silk and steel. Jerry tries a drive from seems like way out and it's almost like the League One Jerry who made impossible stuff happen as it's tipped over. More 'oooohs'
We're the tangerine army... Ooh!
More corner action. Jerry tackles back. He's like a man possessed. Something goes wrong somewhere though and Sunderland are through with only Thorniley to beat. This time, the tackle is not so clean and Jud trudges off with a yellow waved at his back.
A ball into Madine. He takes it, knocks a simple, clean diagonal out to Theo (on for Lavery.) Theo has run that has all the angles of a pool ball cracked off the cushions and clipping the pockets as it hurtles round the table and ends in a near post shot.
Twice the weight of pass is incredible from Patino, once over top, once stunned first time along the ground, the first coming to little, but the latter ending with a Dom Thompson slice that is so miss hit that the ball drops to him again and from that, he catches it well and forces what (from a mile and half away) looks like a brilliant save. At some point later, the ball pings around and ends with a Connolly diving header that has heads in hands.
Twice the weight of pass is incredible from Patino, once over top, once stunned first time along the ground, the first coming to little, but the latter ending with a Dom Thompson slice that is so miss hit that the ball drops to him again and from that, he catches it well and forces what (from a mile and half away) looks like a brilliant save. At some point later, the ball pings around and ends with a Connolly diving header that has heads in hands.
The game breaks down a bit. Sunderland seem to have endless subs to bring on and we have some blokes you know probably won't. Poveda replaces Madine which I think is canny cos Sunderland look ropey when we run at them and even Gaz beat his man once tonight so an out and out dribbler has got every chance. The pitch has got tacky and neither side has quite got to the new speed of the ball which is holding up now.. We break. They break. Another free kick for them they waste. Another pass we don't quite make. Patino drifts like mercury changing form but misses the glorious chance to slip Jerry and goes the other way instead .. Marvin ends up with the ball in the box but does something I can't really see well and then Jerry can't quite shoot. It's the way it is. We've been dominant. We can't score.
We even get a rousing 'We love you Blackpool, we do' and we only ever sing that when we're feeling proud. It's been a good half.
Oh, Fuck me. For fucks sake. How many cats has Michael Appleton run over in his life....? They're fucking... through... the ball hangs, a chance, they've connected with it, it's going in and then Maxwell is producing a blinding stop, kind of scooping/slapping the ball from below and turning it away when it looked like it was past him.
'Oh Chrissy Maxwell, we all raged when we picked him, but he's alright now'
'Oh Chrissy Maxwell, we all raged when we picked him, but he's alright now'
One more corner. Whistle.
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One half each. It was, in the end, a good fight. I enjoyed it. I quite like those games where you fight back off the ropes.
Thommo got back on the bike and did some really good things. Connolly played really well, getting forward from right back with genuine intent. Patino, I loved in the second half. It doesn't make sense playing Dougall at 8 but they pay off is letting Charlie learn to play the deeper role and if we can get someone playing at 8 who can play that role, Patino will pull strings like a dream. Jerry and Jud also deserve some kind of medals for service and just for being themselves. Maxwell also had a really good game. Theo, did well after coming on. I don't think anyone was bad to be honest. Lavery is just not a winger. First half we were all insipid and then second half all stepped it up.
We just can't score.
Company was grand, the team tried hard, we sung some songs, we clapped them off and whilst the drive home is long. I'm glad I went.
Onward.
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