Oh yes, there was Ji’s stumbling, wonderful wander around Joe Hart.
Or the introduction of McClean and then Seb’s free kick and Martin O’Neill’s leap of faith.
Or the stubborn dismantling of City away – until the Greek gave us our own crisis of confidence (as they will, if you turn your back).
Or that tackle by Catts. (Excuse me, but if that Tiote thingy is a hard man then I reckon a 65 year old Norman Hunter, if he’s still alive and biting legs on this planet, would be favourite in a 50/50).
But the defining moment in a season which had more tides than a week’s worth at Seaburn beach? And a hero?.
Step right up, Franco Di Santo.
Back on the early evening of November 26th Wigan’s less-than-prolific striker was gift-wrapped a tap in to seal the deal on Steve Bruce.
Had he missed (admittedly an unlikely outcome for a player of even Franco’s somewhat limited prowess) we may have been stuck with Supersized Steve a great while longer.
In footballing terms a “great while longer” can translate into, maybe, another ten games. And by that point Lazarus would be asking for danger pay.
So, for a while the MON effect had us top of the form charts, talking of Europe and F.A. Cup glory. We were daft, but it felt mighty good.
Now, after the see-saw has righted itself to the perpendicular, we ask: what the hell was that season all about?
I honesty don’t know. It was like an episode of Lost. (Not sure that’s on UK TV so Patrick McGooan in the Prisoner would have to substitute.)
But I do know we would have been relegated under Bruce. If young Franco had somehow managed to screw it wide then Bruce may have been given a deadly stay of execution.
And for that reason alone Di Stanto is my man of the season. He won’t win it at Wigan, likely will never win it anywhere else where they pay to let you in, but here, in the confusing fires of SAFC heaven and hell, he did us the biggest favour of a limping season. He slotted that one home.
We lost and in doing so survived. A first and, after half a century, the most important priority.
So, the future is unwritten, as Joe Strummer would say.
Have a great summer all you sad souls who follow this football club.
Oh, and you too, Franco.
Sharkey’s Shadow
(Our Canadian Correspondent)