Moyes Annoys

There’s a bizarre belief among football fans that passing informed comment on the fortunes of a rival team doesn’t demonstrate intelligence or perception on the part of the observer, but instead shows them to be obsessed; an insult almost as serious as being deemed a glory hunter, part-timer or Sky Boy. Such an attitude is baffling to the point of incomprehensibility; can you imagine a situation whereby a Labour politician was denied the opportunity to give an opinion on the latest Tory crime against humanity, on account of the fact it had “nothing to do with you?” Or Wordsworth’s biographer refused access to a conference on William Blake because “romantics aren’t welcome here pal?” Unfortunately this is exactly the kind of reaction touchy types from Wearside have as their default response when anyone dares pass comment about the fortunes of their team. If George Caulkin, Martin Hardy and Simon Bird are called out over the legitimacy of their opinions, then I realise I’m in for a rough ride once I share my thoughts, but here goes…

Quite frankly, Sunderland are in a worse situation than they were when they accumulated 19 points in their 2002/2003 relegation season; they’re now performing at about the same level as the famed 15 point fiasco of 2005/2006, with every chance of replicating the McMenemy era if things continue the way they are. What’s more, there is no realistic prospect of recovery in the medium or short term. Whether David Moyes stays or goes is really of no particular relevance; unless a billionaire takes over between now and the start of the transfer window, providing untold riches for a whole squad of signings, they are going down. Even with a fairy godfather on board, the current rate of progress means they could be needing snookers by Christmas.  I mean, I could be wrong and Moyes may oversee a May 2015 Leicester style revival, but it isn’t looking very likely is it?

The problem, as ever with top level football clubs, is that supposedly altruistic patrician lords of the manor are actually greedy, rapacious venture capitalists whose first and only loyalty is to their wealth. Like the Glazers, Hinks and Gillette, Randy Lerner and the whole sordid rogues’ gallery from the Halls to Ashley via Freddy Shepherd, these owners are motivated by profit margins and personal avarice; once it becomes clear that their prized cash cow is refusing to calve, interest soon dwindles and purse strings are tied tight with a double bow.  This is precisely where Sunderland are now; but how exactly did they get here?

Current owner Ellis Short, described repeatedly as an Irish American billionaire hedge fund speculator, has absolutely no links with Wearside, other than the football club he bought from Niall Quinn’s Drumaville Consortium. Back in 2006, with Kevin Ball as caretaker boss when the team went down with 15 points, a then record low, long-time owner Bob Murray, whose 20 seasons in charge had begun with the sacking of Lawrie McMenemy, signalled it was time to chuck the towel in. The rumour being he was suffering from stress-related depression; understandable after 2 decades of bankrolling that shower. Murray, despite the fact he endured hatred from the terraces (he was once glassed in Vujon curry restaurant on Newcastle Quayside, when enjoying a relaxing Balti with Mick McCarthy), was a real fan of his home town club, though similar to Gordon McKeague at NUFC, he just wasn’t very good at running it. Ironically though, he’d been seen as a trade up from his predecessor Tom Cowie, who’d fallen foul of the great unwashed by telling the truth when he announced Newcastle had better fans than Sunderland. The cavalry arrived in the shape of the Drumaville Consortium. The loathsome, oleaginous Niall Quinn assembled a predictable, pre-recession Irish squad of dodgy builders, chain licensees and horse owners, prepared to gamble a few quid on rescuing the football club I’ll concede he had a genuine affection for.  These shadowy operators shelled out £20m, which was chump change in the world of Irish credit back then, to buy the club outright. At first it was hilarious; they couldn’t find a manager, so Quinn took over for 6 successive defeats, then Roy Keane came in, acted all professional for a while and won promotion. Things carried on swimmingly until the Lads needed their readies sharpish and passed the club on to Short for the thick end of £50m, at which point Keane went mad, quit and the regular pattern of annual battles against relegation, unlikely escapes after beating Newcastle and sacking the manager began. So why should this season be any different to previous ones, apart from the removal of the annual NUFC points donation?

Firstly, the players; Jermaine Defoe is a class act, so is the injured Jan Kirchoff, while Borini (also injured), Van Aanholt and Pickford the keeper aren’t bad and I suppose O’Shea, Pienaar and Larsson have been decent players in the past. Sadly the rest are dross; absolute garbage who are lacking ability, motivation and any desire to fight and save their side. Take it from me; I remember the two dozen crash test dummies Rafa moved on from NUFC post demotion, so I know a load of lazy, lousy mercenaries when I see them. Other than Defoe they won’t score goals and even with him, they’ll never keep them out. If your main hope for a revival rests with the return of Lee Cattermole as a midfield playmaker, then you may as well hand in your Premier League resignation now.

Secondly, the manager; David Moyes looks like a bloke on the very edge of a nervous breakdown and has done since the season started. Now, I go back a long time with Sunderland managers; I remember Alan Brown getting the bullet in autumn 72 and Bob “well you know George” Stokoe, the man who finished off McMenemy’s handiwork by relegating them to Division 3, coming in. He was replaced in turn by Jimmy Adamson, on a gap year between his Burnley and Leeds gigs; the anonymous Billy Elliott and Ken Knighton did their bit, before Alan Durban arrived. Durban is chiefly remembered for telling supporters that if they wanted entertainment they should “go to the circus.” Once he got his P45, Len Ashurst pitched up; the man with the worst fringe in history got them to the League Cup final and relegated, before the legendary McMenemy arrived.

In 1987, the loathsome Dennis Smith, with his husky, high pitched paranoid media visions, came in for 4 years. He got the bullet on New Year’s Eve, at which point Malcolm “Willie Wonka” Crosby  stepped up from running a bed and breakfast hostel to managing a professional football club, losing his job after the Pools Panel opined that Tranmere would beat Sunderland. Next up was the comic era of Terry Butcher; a man so unhinged he’s beyond hilarious (though his stint at my beloved Hibs was far from a laughing matter).  Following a trouncing by Southend, the charismatic Mick Buxton and his compulsory flat cap came on the scene, for the standard 18 months of stagnant regression. With relegation to the third tier a knocking bet, Peter Reid was the final roll of the dice.

I have to say, unlike Sunderland fans, I liked and admired Reid; he had a good sense of humour and did his best to deflate the hysteria around Tyne-Wear derbies, unlike Smith and Butcher whose conduct was shameful. If Mackems look back on Reid’s time with rational eyes, they’ll be sad for what they lost when they drove him out for the Wilkinson and Cotterill dream team. After those crazy fools, Mick McCarthy was normality itself; a plain, blunt football man who I respect as well. Witness the job he has done at Wolves and now Ipswich with no money and little publicity. He also spoke well of Newcastle after our recent battering of Ipswich the other week.

So now we’re back to Keane, who did a sterling job and reveals in his autobiography that it was Ellis Short’s interference that drove him away. Next up was Ricky Sbragia and his Easter Island head, before the equally pulchritudinous Steve Brewse endured 3 years of abuse for being a Mag, especially after a certain 5-1 on Halloween 2010. He was always up against it, trying to win the fans over, with his background; mind his successor Martin O’Neill fared no better. Despite the merchandising slogan “party with Marty,” O’Neill actually took the team backwards and after 15 months was replaced by the loathsome Di Canio. The self-confessed fascist was bizarrely popular with South Tyneside’s most theatrically flamboyant NUFC super fan, but he was regarded with contempt by everyone else, including the Mackems once it became clear Di Canio had no clue how to manage a football team. His replacement was the shifty corprophiliac Poyet; he won 3 games against NUFC, but fell out with Short and the crowd.

The brief Advocaat interregnum saw them stay up in 2015, before he suddenly realised he wanted to retire after all, leaving the field clear for the biggest head of them all, Sam Allardyce; the man who made Sbragia and Brewse look like congenital microcephalus sufferers. Allardyce was the perfect fit for Sunderland; loud, demotic, ignorant and blessed with messianic arrogance. Naturally he kept them up, at our expense, before following the money to England and the Torygraph sting that hoist him with his own petard.

With Big Sam out the door, the choice of Moyes seemed to be a no-brainer, as he was the highest profile, most experienced seemingly safe pair of hands around. Yet it has all turned to dust, as his side currently boast 2 points from 10 games, which is not an unfair reflection of their labours thus far. Frankly Moyes himself set the tone, with his gloomy pronouncements after their home defeat to Middlesbrough. An opening day loss to Man City was, effectively, a free pass, but the Boro defeat, especially the manner of it, resulted in uproar. One tetchy fan approached the dugout, ranting and raving, while Moyes solemnly predicted a season of struggle against relegation. Three months on it seems like a struggle Sunderland will lose, but where could they turn to if Moyes walks or is pushed? Who would seriously take on a job like this? The one club that seems to thrive on constant turmoil and uproar is faced with the prospect of not only relegation, but a full-on meltdown with an owner who wants out, players who are not good enough and a manager who seems utterly unable to motivate his charges, limited though they may be.

There is one ray of hope; Moyes is banned from the dugout for their game away to Bournemouth on Saturday. I predict they’ll win 2-1, but it won’t make much difference in the long run I’m afraid…

https://youtu.be/aTVspy43xxI