Dear Roker Report,
Where did it all go wrong? Where has the passion gone? Where has that feeling from the last time we played Chelsea gone?
Why do we look a shadow of a shadow of ourselves from last season?
To quote Linkin Park: “I’ve become so numb”.
I thought Saturday was inexcusable, but I was wrong. Last night was gutless, feckless, spineless and atrocious.
Misplaced pass after misplaced pass. Backward passes under no pressure. Set pieces that were wasted.
Bar a brief 5-10-minute spell at the start of the second half,
we looked lost.
And those wanting RLB out have a point. The performances have been getting worse with each game. Just no response from the previous match.
Last night was the perfect chance for us to get the win we need to reignite our season. Look at what one good win has done for Villa and Bournemouth – why can’t that be us?
But no, we gave that kind of performance yet again, and now we’re going into Sunday really needing a win.
And can we get it? If we do, is that just going to paper over the cracks?
How close are we to another Victor Anichebe moment?
Hannah Brown
Editor’s note [Chris] Thanks for the email Hannah. In Monday’s Editorial I wrote how I think it’s a combination of recruitment not improving us from the off and a lack of a collective target compared to last season. But, we’ve seen this squad are capable of giving anyone a game, and we’ve just got to hope they get that edge back.
Dear Roker Report,
Felt like writing again…
Let’s open with a bit of a disclosure – I’ve only been following Sunderland since the Gus Poyet days. I didn’t realise I was in for a series of great escapes and managers whose job duration was nearly as short as an English PM. All I knew was that I was a Durham, and although there had never been a generation of Americans that didn’t include my Durham ancestors, I figured if I was going to support a Premier League club (which was all you could find on TV in the US then), I wanted a proper Durham club.
County Durham when we won the FA Cup? Check. Durham Miner’s Gala banner in the stadium hallway? Check. What’s that you say? Penshaw is called the Earl of Durham Monument? Even the Venerable Bede ties Durham and Sunderland together, and if England’s greatest historian says Sunderland is Durham, that’s good enough for me. Plus Claudio Reyna played there (hopefully Gio will return home someday too), and at the time Jozy Altidore was leading the line (if not scoring much). So I concluded I’m a rebel colony bastard Mackem, 11 generations removed. Never mind I’d never understand a word anyone in Sunderland was saying and I had to watch Sunderland ‘Til I Die through tears with the subtitles on. Or that I’d have to figure out how to catch a League One broadcast in Hawaii. None of that matters to fate, and fated I was.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to explain my choice of Sunderland to people. In England, I often get: “You don’t sound like you’re from Sunderland.” I think their surprise is a valid extension of a hypocrisy among American sports fans. They will look down on every foreigner wearing a Yankees or Dodgers hat as a bandwagon poser who clearly knows nothing about baseball. But then they’ll shamelessly support Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool or, if they’re full hipster, Spurs.
To be fair, I nearly supported Liverpool, but this was simply because it was the first team I had ever heard of, thanks to my sixth-grade subscription to Eurosport, who, in addition to teaching me I’d never afford proper boots, carelessly presented Neil ‘Razor’ Ruddock as my childhood role model. This set me on thinking soccer was all about clattering into people and turning down Eric Cantona’s collar.
As it turns out, the only thing I ever learned to do was slide tackle. I’ve got no touch, can’t pass or shoot, and have zero ball control. I think the only thing Mom ever ordered for me from that magazine was a VHS tape called Soccer’s Hard Men, a video Vinnie Jones got fined by the FA for hosting… which was why I wanted it. Needless to say, my youth career saw more cards than goals. Thanks, Eurosport.
I was thrilled when I finally completed my Sunderland pilgrimage in 2025. The first time I set foot in Sunderland was the day of the EFL play-off final. What a day it was! I had recently moved to Yorkshire and decided I should watch the final among people who understood. I drove right down Durham Road into a bit of Heaven on Earth. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I thought we were lucky to scrape by Coventry in the semi-final; winning at Wembley was unthinkable. I’ve never hugged so many drunken strangers in my life.
But the absurdly unlikely results didn’t stop there. The following season was an extension of the dream. The goal was: “Please just let us claw some points and maybe beat the other promoted teams to stay up.” Beat the infinite oil money Mags? Europe? You’re mad. Nobody falls for that Leicester City counter-attack nonsense any more. Promoted sides can’t compete with the big boys, let alone get any points off them.
I clearly recall that hateful Microsoft Copilot win percentage being against us absolutely every match. Looks like it was an AI hallucination after all. Your training data couldn’t compute Sunderland grit and glory, could it? Stupid machine.
So, to the point – reality sets in as we’re bottom of the table and so many seem to turn on the lads. Booing Sunderland at a home match in the Europa League? Is there any more self-condemning act for a fan base? I’ve seen all the matches between here and losing League One promotion battles to teams with badges that look like a failed kindergarten art project, where you can see the car park from the stadium’s match camera… and it’s empty.
If you think getting rid of Régis is going to bring anything other than the wasteful spending spree spiral that sunk us two leagues deep, you’ve got a short memory. The boys have played their hearts out; it’s just not come off. The same lucky breaks that went against the teams we played against last season are now bowing to the law of averages against us. It was always inevitable.
Back the lads, fight on, we stay up. We’re in a tough run, the Christmas season is coming and it will be ruthlessly unforgiving. We will rise to it and meet it unafraid, without regret, and lay everything on the line.
Sunderland isn’t some self-righteous, privileged posh town with bottomless coffers; the people are made of tougher stuff up here. The lads know it, they can feel it, and they will reflect it. Don’t give in to that temptation of easy blame and scapegoating.
Football is completely unpredictable. That’s why we’ve got home matches in Europe; that’s why we have the privilege to fight for our spot in the Prem. It is a psychological, emotional game. They feel what you feel. The boys will fight for us, but we’ve got to fight for them.
Jesse, Durham
Editor’s note [Chris] Thanks for the email Jesse. I agree in that I’m not sure Le Bris going would change things. He’s more than deserved a chance to try and get it right, the only question is how long does he get to try?. But it’s Sunderland as you’ve found Jesse, and we’ll keep on this rollercoaster till the bitter end as always!
