As a football fan, sometimes it’s necessary to take a step back when viewing a truly epic result in all its majesty.
Like a piece of classic Hollywood cinema, what you perhaps didn’t initially appreciate by way of character nuances, plot twists or iconic images often only becomes clear on second, third, fourth or fifth viewing, and that theory undoubtedly applies as the afterglow from Sunderland’s epic victory over Newcastle United continues to burn as intensely as a Tatooine sunset: mesmeric, unforgettable,
and one of the truly epic visuals in cinematic history.
For the desert planet of Star Wars, see the “Cathedral On The Hill”, a lopsided mass of steel and cantilever construction that, barely two weeks ago, witnessed something as spectacular as George Lucas’ magnum opus: Sunderland triumphing against the odds, against all logic, a crippling injury list and a tide of black and white belief.
In theory, it shouldn’t have happened.
“On paper”, as they always like to proclaim, Newcastle should’ve emerged victorious. Better team, proven top flight manager, a pre-match flag display whose centrepiece of a top hat-sporting feathered critter harked back to the imagery that I’m sure once adorned the walls at the Crowtree’s Checkers Cafe…or maybe that was just a figment of my imagination — but the script had been written.
Nevertheless, the red and white army travelled in great numbers and remained in superb voice throughout.
The hosts, for their part, had hung a banner on the Leazes End which would’ve doubtless been used as a framing device had their players delivered on the day. They affected ignorance and a lack of knowledge of the quality of our players. They mocked us. They oozed a sense of sneering superiority. Thought they’d win. They were wrong.
And why? Because the Lads have dug so deeply on so many occasions this season, salvaging results from unlikely-looking positions and viewing the concept of a lost cause as something to be ignored.
They’ve embodied the fighting spirit of the new Sunderland AFC ever since the whistle blew against West Ham in August, but against the Mags, something truly special was tapped into; something unquantifiable, magical, and pure. We wanted to complete the league double and we eventually did, but wanting it and achieving it are very different — the former being easy and the latter often being brutally difficult.
Who was your own standout on the day?
Brian Brobbey, all hustle and bustle, never allowing Sven Botman and Dan Burn a moment’s peace and eventually popping up with the winning goal in front of a stunned home contingent?
How about Omar Alderete? The Paraguayan centre back loves a duel and this was his kind of game. Defend, defend, defend. Give it your all. Take no backwards steps — and the same was true of his stoic comrade at the back in the immovable Luke O’Nien.
Every player grafted. They all emptied the tanks in pursuit of victory and for Chris Rigg, such a coming-of-age display couldn’t have been more timely. He’s got it, and we all knew it, but this was exceptional even by his standards.
Newcastle may still feel a sense of regret at their failure.
They may still feel the spectre of their second-half performance and their utter lack of conviction as uncomfortably in the backs of their minds as a stone in their shoe. Quite what happened, only they know, but as Eddie Howe attempted to take the heat off his players in the aftermath, Mag fans weren’t quite so charitable, but you know something? That’s for them to continue to pick the bones out of.
This was our day. It was our time. It was our glory.
This was not about hammerings at the hands of Barcelona, Anthony Gordon’s opening goal or Joelinton’s psuedo-‘hard man’ act. It was about Sunderland. About Régis Le Bris, the composure of Enzo Le Fée; the instincts of Chemsdine Talbi, the ruthlessness of Brobbey and the leadership of Granit Xhaka.
If the former Arsenal captain was in any doubt as to how loved he is by our supporters, he surely can’t be now. Guiding his men to a league double over the Saudi shills is the stuff of legend, and doing it as we did last Sunday is the kind of thing that’ll be recalled in bars, school playgrounds and on social media twenty, thirty and forty years from now.
“Remember when Granit stood tall against the Mags and led his men to victory?” they’ll say — and it’ll only grow more iconic in time.
Crestfallen Newcastle fans made for the exits having seen their side implode spectacularly after the break — yet our fans remained, determined to savour every second of what they’d seen and basking in the ecstacy of the kind of victory that’ll be recanted down the years as new generations of supporters emerge, their love of all things red and white fuelled by the legacies of days like this.
That’s what it’s all about. Regional dominance? The alignment of the two clubs on their respective trajectories? That’ll all be illustrated in the fullness of time.
For now, it’s just a sense of satisfaction, pride and utter joy at what the Lads were able to accomplish on a Sunday afternoon, deep in the heart of black and white territory.
