Reality bites after our double capitulation

I’VE never been a big fan of clichés in football. Just the thought of listening to a lazy commentator trot them out during a match ensures I never opt for following Sunderland on the box, even when it costs €60 to watch us get pulverised at Stamford Bridge.

A week is a long time in football and sitting in the relentless rain watching Roy Keane sacrifice the game by playing youth players, I felt a million miles away from the Newcastle win. The derby story unfortunately didn’t have two happy endings. It was nice to see the Barcodes eventually reach the bottom of the league, but I’d have happily given that up for just one decent performance since our win against them.

Last week got off to a poor start when Keane promised there’d be no hangovers on the pitch, unlike those in the stand, come our trip to Stoke on Tuesday. The best hangover cure in the world is to be found sitting in a nice cosy office rubbing it into Newcastle supporters. The worst way to get rid of one, it seems, is to drive for four hours to the Britannia Stadium and sit in sub-zero temperatures for 90 minutes with nothing to cheer about.

I saw several supporters buying cups of Bovril at half time. Not to drink, but simply to keep their hands warm.

The players seemed as frozen as the fans, as we posed no attacking threat and limped to a defeat courtesy of the arms of Rory Delap. There’s no shame in that, as any Arsenal fan will testify but it’s frustrating we couldn’t counter their physical presence. Last year we had big bad bullies like Dickson, Etuhu and Paul McShane. Granted, they were dire at football, but you wonder if us bringing in flashy internationals is going to mean we’re going to be bossed about by poor footballing teams like Stoke on a regular basis?

I can only pray that Roy hasn’t gone soft in his old age.

After that nightmare, I headed for the capital expecting a nailed on pasting by the champions-to-be. I wouldn’t have felt particularly robbed had Chelsea reached double figures, they were so awesome, but it irked that the referee gifted them three goals in the first half just to give them a leg up.

It wasn’t just me who thought that Martin Atkinson was a bit of a joke in the middle — Keano spent the second half watching the trouncing from up in the gods after being dismissed.

The most frustrating aspect was the gaffer handing a game to half-fit 17-year-old youth striker Martyn Waghorn for only his second start since playing in a 4-0 defeat to Manchester United. Not only must it be demoralising to young Martyn to be wheeled out for big defeats where he’ll barely get a kick, but it seems a stupid training exercise by the manager. I don’t mind Roy Keane accepting defeat prior to the game and trying something new, but why didn’t he give Djibril Cisse and Kenwyne Jones a game up front together to give them some time to gel?

We also brought Jordan Henderson off the bench, another youth player who will have learned nothing other than what a proper midfield performance looks like. It rubbed salt into the wounds that quarter of an hour after we’d brought the youngster on for some experience, Chelsea gave a young lad by the name of Didier Drogba a run out.

All in all it was a miserable day only compounded by me getting lost somewhere in Hackney after a long night drowning my sorrows.

After a miserable week, things can hopefully get better. Our next four league games are against Portsmouth, Blackburn, West Ham and Bolton. On paper, all are winnable, but then that’s the reason I hate clichés so much — us Sunderland fans have spent years watching our team prove them wrong.

Martyn McFadden writes for www.a-love-supreme.com.