An intense week for SAFC saw us round off the opening act of the season before the extended international break with a Sunday afternoon trip to the Etihad Stadium.
While City may not have the same aura of invincibility that they once had in Pep Guardiola’s prime, the latest model is still a fearsome opponent. I’ve never been overly convinced by Enzo Maresca, but his early work with the Cityzens has been impressive, moulding another expensively assembled side into a formidable attacking unit with a strong
defensive record (any danger of an update on those 115 charges, anyone?).
Mind you, I’d still wager that most would rather see them win the league over Arsenal, a sad reflection on the elite clubs in the Premier League.
As is so often the case, Sunday morning trains to Manchester from London were a nightmare thanks to some emergency engineering repairs to a bridge near Watford, which was supposedly on the brink of collapse.
The works had been planned for several weeks, so I’d question how much of an emergency it really was, but the only logical option seemed to be to head up on Saturday evening (my days on the National Express are long done, out of principle).
I studied at Manchester many eons ago, so it’s always a nice trip down memory lane. Two old friends at university were kind enough to offer me a stay at their house in Stalybridge, a charming town where a round came to less than nine quid, which was a welcome change that definitely made me question my life choices.
On a bright Sunday morning, it was time to head back to the city centre to prepare for the trip to the Etihad.
All the pubs in the vicinity of Eastlands are strictly Home Fans Only, but thankfully the Crafty Pig near Piccadilly was available for those seeking early morning refreshments.
While waiting for the rest of the group to arrive from the North East, I had an enjoyable chat with a few fellow Sunderland fans about their plans for our European adventures, which included a trip to Milan via Dublin and Lithuania for less than £50. You have to respect the creativity.
After a quick pit-stop for some stomach-lining pizza at Nell’s, we embarked on a picturesque enough walk down the canalside towards the ground.
There was a flat across the water with a Newcastle United shirt hanging on full display in the window, sadly just out of brick-throwing range*, which drew a few wry smiles from both sets of fans.
Reading the teamsheet in the concourse over a slightly too foamy pint of Asahi, it was encouraging to see that Le Bris had opted to give Methalie his debut rather than shoehorning Hume in at left-back.
If you’ve paid good money for a full-back who is supposedly a future France international, you shouldn’t be scared of throwing him in, even against the best.
Taking our seats in the top tier of the away end, we were dismayed to learn that our seats weren’t adjacent to the many genteel tourists with half-and-half scarves in the home end, but were instead next to a good number of City’s infamously passionate and unwelcoming fans, many of whom resembled rejects from the cast of Shameless.
In a way, it’s heartwarming to see that the Moss Side culture has not been fully lost to the gentrification of football.
Sunderland made a fast start, carving out a decent opportunity for Angulo, but the Ecuadorian sadly fluffed his lines.
Some questionable goalkeeping from Roefs saw Enzo Fernández curl home a free-kick, prompting much abuse from the aforementioned Frank Gallagher lookalikes.
Many away sides would crumble at the Etihad after such a setback, but as we all know by now, this Sunderland team are made of sterner stuff.
The madness that followed saw Brian Brobbey and City trading blows more or less relentlessly for the rest of the game; it was a real emotional rollercoaster that reminds you that modern football still has the capacity for this kind of beautiful chaos.
Even after Haaland seemingly wrapped things up at the end, Sunderland still carved out a few opportunities to make it a nervy finish for City.
To their credit, the fans to the left of us declined to dish out any further stick on the final goading at the final whistle, and headed home, probably aware that we’d given them a real test.
There was some great banter with Haaland, as the away end gave him a tongue-in-cheek reminder of his shortcomings compared with the mighty Brobbey.
The City striker took it in great spirits, and the mutual applause that followed was a nice reminder that, despite how much it disproportionately dictates our emotional state, football is ultimately supposed to be about having a laugh.
All in all, despite four points from five games arguably representing a slightly below-par start to the season, there is plenty to like about our recent performances against some excellent teams.
If we can carry on creating this volume of chances and show more clinicalness like today against the lesser sides, then there’s no reason we can’t push on in the cups and climb the table.
*For the avoidance of any doubt or potential legal consequences, this is a joke.
