Among the many indignities inflicted on Sunderland fans in our last Premier League campaign almost a decade ago, one that sometimes slips under the radar is the farcical final-day defeat at Stamford Bridge.
Future Mag and gobshite Javier Manquillo actually gave us an unlikely lead, but what followed epitomised the cowardice and lack of self-respect that underlined the club at the time. Not only did we crumble on the pitch, but we collaborated with Chelsea’s pre-rehearsed farewell ceremony for John Terry, deliberately conceding a throw-in on 26 minutes so he could be substituted at the same time as his shirt number. I feel ashamed just typing that out.
Back in the roaring 2020s, however, this current iteration of Sunderland is not just a different beast but another species entirely. We head to West London level on points with the world champions (even if the actual merits of that trophy are about as dubious as Donald Trump’s bid for the Nobel Peace Prize). Despite having a squad numbering in the sixties, the home side were thankfully bereft of the talismanic Cole Palmer, who falls into the category of players I love watching in general but would hate to see them play against my own team. The men from the King’s Road can be rather hit and miss, and the pressure had been lifted somewhat from Sunderland’s shoulders by the win over Wolves, so we headed into this fixture with a quiet optimism that a shock result could be on the cards.
Despite having a London-based 3pm kick-off, I turned down the chance to play for my Saturday morning 11-a-side team in favour of joining the rest of the London branch early doors at the pub. We’ve been away from the Premier League far too long for me to be passing up the pre-match festivities for running around a muddy field in Hackney. What’s more, we owed it to our fellow supporters braving the long journey from the Motherland to milk this away day for all it was worth.
The charming environs of Putney made an ideal starting point, with more overpriced but homely boozers than you can shake a stick at. Just as we were settling in at the fantastic Eight Bells, we were told that we’d have to move on before midday as the bar was to be made ‘Home Fans Only’. I’m not sure why this was deemed necessary, as there were zero issues with the home fans all day, but we moved on up the Fulham Road towards Stamford Bridge, after a pit-stop at the Durell Arms. The only blemish on the day was the fact my away ticket hadn’t arrived in the post, so there was a half-hour wait behind several confused-looking tourist home fans to actually gain entry, a delay which saw me miss Garnacho’s opener and smug, premature celebration. Probably a blessing in disguise, really.
Any fears that we might capitulate after the early setback were put to bed relatively quickly, as Sunderland recovered admirably to stifle the home side and look to get back into the game. One underrated aspect of watching this team is the fact that even a throw-in feels like a cause for excitement. While we’re hardly alone in having a long-throw specialist this season, it remains a dangerous weapon when employed cleverly, as it was when Isidor prodded home Traoré’s volley to spark jubilation in the away end.
The second half saw a more conservative approach by Sunderland, understandable given that even a point from Stamford Bridge would be considered an excellent result, but the potential for a devastating counter-attack out of the blue is always there with this team. Time seemed to slow down as Brobbey held off two Chelsea defenders to roll it across for Talbi to curve home with aplomb, and the wild berserker-like celebrations that followed were a throwback to the ecstasy we felt in our three play-off games last season.
This result is one that will make the wider football community sit up and take notice. The list of caveats for the naysayers is growing shorter, and more and more pundits and rival fans are being forced to admit that Sunderland are just a well-run, professional outfit these days that are worthy of more respect than we’ve been afforded so far.
Not that anyone was bothered as we filtered out of Stamford Bridge to continue our celebrations into the night. Our unbeaten away run against London sides now stretches all the way back to May 2018, a trend which we’ll hope to continue in our numerous further games in the capital in the second half of the season.
