Survival is all that matters now

DESPITE my pre match nerves, Saturday was probably my favourite away game of the season. I love the drive through the Lakes via the M6 to Bolton and after a bleak winter on the road, the sun was out, the music was mellow and the conversation was good.

However with Hull having the perfect opportunity to overtake us with an easy home match against Stoke, and Middlesbrough and Newcastle battling it out on Monday, I knew it was a make or break weekend, so I was nervous.

With the motorway full of SAFC coaches, it was clear we had sold out our 5,000 allocation and were set to take over The Reebok and its surrounding watering holes.

Before kick off the pubs of the Lancashire town were full of very drunk, but equally edgy Mackems. I was directed to one pub which boasted plenty of car-parking for supporters, a carvery for just £3.50 and only a 15 minute walk to the game. It sounded like the perfect combination. I wasn’t alone as the place was packed to the rafters with red and white and just one lonely Bolton shirt sat at the bar.

Despite the bait seeming like an absolute steal, I was way too nervous to even contemplate eating. However, the craic was good with friends old and new as we discussed horses, ex-girlfriends called Amber, whether a fellow fan’s head of hair was a wig and the Celtic v Rangers game. We left the Royal Oak amused, having asked the man with extremely long hair if his mop was in fact real (and it was) and walked the supposed 15 minutes (more like half an hour Sherlock) to the ground.

One downside when we take huge numbers away is that we always manage to attract the odd idiot and for some reason those fools always seem to be stuck next to me.

At the Reebok, one fat racist moron was directly behind me and despite the fantastic noise our support created and the numbers we’d brought; he still made me ashamed to be associated with him.

For 90 minutes the drunken d***head dished out a variety of ill-informed and offensive insults to our players. His pièce de résistance was calling wafer-thin born and bred Mackem and boyhood Sunderland fanatic Grant Leadbitter a ‘lazy fat Irishman’. It’s a shame pillocks like that are even allowed into football grounds, let alone follow the same football team as me. However, every club has them.

Thankfully Marton Fulop’s last gasp grab at Gary Cahill’s header prevented the day ending on a sour note and the red and white contingent headed home relatively happy.

So there was very little left to do than return to The Royal Oak, with the stress all but gone.

Hull’s defeat leaves them in freefall and whilst West Brom might climb away from bottom spot there’s no way they’ll escape the drop. Monday night gave Newcastle a get out clause, but Boro appear doomed because of it.

It’s not nice surviving just because there are a handful of teams worse than you, but at this stage of the season I don’t really care.

The pundits think we’re just about safe – we need one more win just to totally guarantee it.

After that we can move Ricky on and send a few players with him and hopefully look to a brighter season next term with Ellis Short in the boardroom and a new manager in the dugout.

* Read more from Martyn McFadden at www.a-love-supreme.com