I like Rotherham. It has none of the glitzy big city feel of a Sunderland. For a lad brought up in Seaham, it feels much more like home. Unfortunately it looks like Rotherham are going to end their stint in this league. As hopefully we will also be doing so up at the other end, this is no time for sentimentality.
Another thing I like is two decent pubs within staggering distance of the away end. I have never been a man to experiment when I could do the same, so we headed in to the Moulders Rest. In the past year, they had put in Sky and were clearly very impressed by the advent of satellite TV – the opportunities to patronise Rotherham are legion. In the pub, there were rumours that Poom was nacked. I poo-pooed these until my Black Cats Txt (©) came through telling me that it was indeed Myrhe in goal with Alnwick on the bench. While it is a bit disastrous having Myrhe on the wage bill, it does allow us to lose a keeper of Poom’s quality and still feel we’ll be alright. I am not one of those who think Myrhe is the better keeper but I would readily acknowledge that there are parts of his game (e.g. distribution, command of defence) where he scores higher. Also out was Ringo. This meant that Arca could drop back to his favoured left back spot. This issue always confuses me. Arca clearly plays better from left back but he is, at best, a poor defender (does that make sense? I know what I mean). This meant Carter was back in the starting line-up on the wing. Up front it was the boy wonder Elliott and Stew again. Is Bridges going to get in? It is one of those ironies that just as we get Stickman back, we have a player who is playing a similarish sort of game to him in Elliott.
The Sky cameras were there, so we kicked off at some weird time (I think it was about five past eight but I’m not sure if it was supposed to be). We were better than these and we had control of the gamer from early on. Then Elliott sent a rasping shot against the underside of the bar that took an age to come down for Stew who crashed his shot into the keeper (the angle wasn’t great mind). We went “ooh” then “aah” then “how the f did that not go in?” (well we would have if there hadn’t been a sign warning us about abusive language). Then one of those strange things happened whereby instead of us being inspired by this and pressing home the advantage, we handed over control to them for a while. Grrrr. Myrhe came for a cross and flapped. The SAFC crowd behind his goal panicked (we are never more than a poor throw in away from panic – it is our natural state when awake) which must have been a big help.
We got to half-time goal-less. Always think that is OK away from home as Mick will sort them out for the second half. And we would be attacking our end in the second half.
Second half seemed to see a succession of excellent runs by Elliott that he couldn’t quite finish. Bit more luck and he could have had a hat trick. I just love to see a striker never give up though – and young Stephen has that quality in droves. Stew looked laid back but you have to say he still has skill that adds something different. I don’t get invited to boo-boys meetings where they decide who to attempt to hound out but I think there may be rumblings that Stew should be given that position if he continues to keep Stickman out of the team. Bridges ran up and down the touchline with the crowd singing his name but never got on – must have seemed very much like the old days.
At some stage we scored. Ball squirmed through for Deano (and well done him for being there) in the centre just in front of the six yard box and he knocked it past the keeper. I must admit my first thought was “offside”. I was up at the back, bang on the middle of the goal (and a bloody big pole holding the stand up) but he seemed to me to be in front of the defence when it was last touched by an SAFC player. Deano clearly was worried about the same things as he did that celebration whereby the player attempts to look nonchalant and celebrate but casually look round at the linseman and then ref. As both of them thought it was OK Deano and I thought “sod it. Let’s go mental”. A couple of minutes later I phoned me brother who was watching on telly and he thought it was marginally offside.
We did still have time to let one of their players have a free header at the left post which Myrhe got across quite superbly for (have to acknowledge that as I don’t think Myrhe is a great shot stopper while Poom has kept us in a few games recently with spectacular saves).
A young lad came on. I was confused. My Black Cats Txt (©) has said N Collins (actually it had said N Coll). For once the Black Cats Txt (©) was wrong. This was D Collins (or presumably D Coll). He was bliddy good. I don’t know how long he was on for but he seemed to get involved an awful lot – particularly as he was at left back (Arca pushed up). Really nice on the ball and able to tackle.
So not a great game but three points. Still worried as to how little creativity comes out of our central midfield (Robbo took the accusations of being anonymous to heart and came on in the second half with a shirt with no name or number on it). However, just think how much better things might get with a fit Piper and match-fit Bridges ripping defences to shreds – particularly if the defence hold out as well as it has been doing. Who knows we might even find room in the team for Tubs.
Just to end on a personal note. My dad was born in 1936. In that year SAFC were champions of England. In the first year of his life we won the FA Cup. We haven’t quite been the same since but he never lost hope and he has passed that down the generations. I have so much to be grateful to my dad for. Not the most important one in the grand scheme of things but one that has given me great pleasure (and will continue to do so, however the team fares) is supporting SAFC. Since my dad first took me to Roker Park in 1964 and held me up in the air to celebrate a Sunderland goal, we must have celebrated thousands of Sunderland goals together – either standing/sitting next to each other or talking about it afterwards. My dad’s funeral was last Saturday but as Deano’s goal went in and I grabbed hold of my 14 year old son, I felt as close to my dad as for any one of those goals over the last 40 years.
