A cold day in Northern England part 2

After the pitiful performance in Milan on Wednesday night, Emerson and I were both hoping for better as we made our second trip to Sunderland on consecutive Saturday’s.

With my foot now better, and after the fun and games of the train last week, I decided to drive this time. Having played football near the Stadium of Light several times over the last few years, I knew a short cut and a good place to park (Southwick if you’re interested, ten minutes walk from the ground).

After the freezing temperatures of last week we both hoped it would be slightly milder this time, especially as all the snow and ice had long gone. Plus it was sunny when we left Darlington so Emerson decided to wear his new red jacket while I made the mistake of wearing one less jumper.

In short, it was colder. Much, much colder. The wind was freezing and while it had said 5 degrees in the car, it felt more like minus 5 on the walk alongside the River Wear to the ground.

We were slightly closer to the front this time, and more to the left of the goal, but that was not that the only change. Luckily we were not in the Scottish section and the atmosphere around us was pretty good, at least before the game started anyway.

View from our seats.

The team was announced and we were both happy to hear RvP and Gervinho were playing, but Emerson was a little disappointed Theo was only on the bench.
As he saw the team warming up, and the subs having a kick about away from the starting XI, Emerson thought Theo looked sad.

‘’Still, it’s his own fault,’’ he said, rather unsympathetically. ‘’After the last two games I think he probably deserves to be on the bench today.’’

Our usual prediction game was hard this time. I feared the worst but wanted to be positive so I went for a 3-2 win. With Fabianski in goal and Djourou at the back I felt sure we would concede, but I hoped RvP would do the business at the other end.

Emerson was less optimistic.

‘’1-1 or 2-2,’’ he said, but he did not sound convinced and I think he really meant 2-1 to Sunderland, although like me did want to admit to it.

After a bright start our injury problems returned as we lost a defender for the third match in row – Coquelin hobbling off with a hamstring injury inside 7 minutes.

That saw Squillaci come on to partner Djourou in the centre of defence so I knew there would be no clean sheet for us now. These two clowns have got to be among the worse centre backs we have ever had, and quite how we have got to the point where these are the best we can get goes some way to explaining our current problems.

Yes, we perhaps could have had a penalty when RvP went down under a challenge from O’Shea – Emerson, at least, was convinced it was a pen – and Gervinho was denied by Mignolet, but there was no getting away from the fact that we deserved to be behind at the break.

The half time trip to the toilet was less stressful than last week, although the atmosphere in the concourse was not great. Plenty of unhappy Gooners. Emerson just wanted to go back up to his seat, but it was much warmer in the concourse so I made sure we dragged it out until the teams had returned for the second half.

Emerson trying to look as though he's not cold.

I really thought we would come out with all guns blazing; a-la Villa in the last round, but it seemed we just had nothing left in the tank.
Having been critical of Sunderland’s style of play last week I feel it is only fair to give them praise this time.

They actually reminded me a little of Forest from the late 70’s/early 80’s. The two centre backs are not the greatest footballers but are very strong and well organised, they have two good, fast wingers, Lee Cattermole is in the Kenny Burns destroyer role, and they play on the counter-attack.

I guess that should not be a total surprise as O’Neill played under Clough in the glory days, and if I were a Sunderland fan I would very excited about the future. Unlike us then...

Despite being well below par, again, I kept thinking we would somehow snatch an equaliser. Wenger brought on Walcott and Rosicky for the injured Ramsey and Squillaci, moving Song back into defence. Why he didn’t just do that in the first place I don’t know.

We switched to a 4-4-2, with Theo playing up front alongside RvP, the very position I have been saying he should be playing all along.

Emerson, of course, was happy to see his hero, unlike everyone around us who started to show their disapproval almost immediately. Some were shouting at him almost as soon as he came onto the pitch. Yeah, nothing like giving the lad a chance eh?

The second goal, ten minutes from time, was again a disaster. I felt sorry for the Ox, who bust a gut to get back after losing the ball (you watching Arshavin?) and was unlucky to deflect it into his own net after it come back off the post.

That was enough for many fans, who started to walk out. I must admit I was tempted to do the same, mainly because it was so cold, and I wanted Sunderland to grab a third just to bring an end to the suffering. At 2-0 you know, deep down, you still have a chance, even though the reality in front of you suggests differently. But 3-0 would end all hope and you can breathe a huge sigh of relief it is all over.

Some guy behind us started shouting 'Spend some f**king money,' although quiet how we are supposed to do that now the transfer window is shut I am not sure. Maybe he just wanted his mate to buy him a pint and a burger.

As Wenger prowled along the touchline, the Sunderland fans started singing ‘You’re getting sacked in the morning’ and there were nothing much we could say in response. Of course he won’t be sacked but maybe it is time for him to do the honourable thing. I mean it is clearly not working anymore.

The last ten minutes were among the worst I have ever witnessed. At least at Man. United in August we had our excuses and the fans stuck with us. This was just a feeling of utter despair. And it was cold, so very cold.

Emerson always likes to guess the amount of stoppage time at the end of the game so I went for 3 minutes, but Emerson just said, ‘’I hope there is none at all so we can just go home.’’ Yeah, that sounds good.

As it turned out there was 3 and I was convinced we would score right at the end when it was too late to make any difference. But of course we didn’t. We could have played until next week and still not scored.

Coming out the ground we had to walk through all the happy Sunderland fans singing about going to Wembley. Emerson was a little upset and started undoing his jacket to show everyone his Arsenal shirt underneath.

‘’We are still better than you,’’ he said, although no one was listening to him.

We finally got back to the car and I turned the heating up to maximum as we tried to thaw out. It soon became clear I was far more depressed about the day’s events than Emerson, who now was looking forward to his McDonalds and thinking about the next match we could go to.

‘’Can we go to the Milan game?’’ he asked.

‘’No Emerson, it’s a school night.’’

‘’What about Liverpool away?’’

‘’Maybe, we’ll see.’’

After what I just witnessed, the last thing I wanted to think about was doing it all over again. Perhaps a win over Spurs on Sunday will renew my enthusiasm. Perhaps.

But of course it is hard to stay sad too long when I have Emerson with me, and by the time we reached McDonalds he had managed to cheer up.

''It's okay dad, we might win the cup next season,'' he said as we at down to eat our not-so-happy meal.

''Yes, Emerson, perhaps we might.''