After a few days chewing over the Villa game, it was back to the football, and after only a couple of league wins between us and City in the last couple of months, who would have bet against yet another draw for the Blues? While they’ve been seriously underperforming their massive transfer fees, we’ve been failing to reach expectations that have been perhaps a wee bit high. Early season euphoria – and we all love a bit of that – generated because, well, we all love to expect the best and are easily encouraged to think that it’s just around the corner when a few good things happen, has of late dissipated somewhat. Less than spectacular results have seen to that, because football fans are notoriously impatient. The attitude we have towards our current situation should be one of patience, not knee-jerk reactions. The early euphoria was quick to appear, but not quite a knee-jerk, because we take a little bit of convincing. What we don’t need, and what is totally unjustified, is the “Bruce hasn’t a clue” club. If we were in the same situation as Villa are now in three years time, would we be happy? Of course we would, and let’s remember that he took over a much better team than Bruce did. Supporting the team and the club is what it’s all about, and part of that is voicing your opinion in a reasoned manner, as well as going berserk during games.

Dodgy weather had made our trans-Pennine journey a little bit tricky, but our chosen refreshment stop (cheers Kev) in the shadow of Saddleworth Moor (still gives me the creeps, that place, even after almost fifty years) was well worth the windy road. The Waggon, and I won’t give away its exact location otherwise loads of folks will go and spoil it, is on the High Street in Uppermill. Damn. It was wonderful, unspoilt, had a bench seat outside the lavvy (on which to wait?) and cracking Robinson’s beer. Including the marvellous Old Tom, only served in halves – unlike the White Horse in Parson’s Green, where they’d have you believe it was a session bitter – and a half was all that was needed between the eight of us. Liquid Christmas cake to go with the broth and pastry slice – lovely. Snoopy even liked the lager.

So to a wintery Eastlands, with the words of the Waggon City fan still ringing in my ears “if you’re two down with ten to go, don’t worry.” And he was just about right.

If you chuck several hundred million quid up in the air, you will, a bit like the chimpanzee and the typewriter, get a few good footballers falling back down. And a few shitbags like Bellamy, who might be complete arses off the field but can still produce the goods on it. And that’s what City are – not much of a team, but a collection of hugely talented individuals. A bit of a shuffle saw us line up …

Fulop
Noz Mensah Turner McCartney
Catts Hendo Reid Campbell Steed
Bent

To be honest, it took us a few minutes to work out who was playing where, by which time Santa Claus had scored from Bellamy’s cross, and it seemed only a few minutes after that when Noz knocked over Bellamy for a penalty. Two down with eighty to go – that wasn’t in the script. Mensah got his first goal for us soon after, and we were wondering just how many goals there would be. Turner nearly got the second, but from the corner Hendo hit a beaut to equalise, the shot even managing to hit Given on the way in. Just as we were having nice thoughts, Bellamy shot across the goal for their third and spoiled half time for us. Campbell went close, and City cleared a Bent effort off the line, so there was always a chance to get back on top..

Jones came on for Steed as we went to two up front (hooray!) just before the break, and he shot over the bar. Not that many words for a ding-dong of a first half, but when you end up on the wrong end of five goals, it doesn’t feel that nice, especially when the opponents were so obviously inept at the back

There were no more changes at half time, then Richo came on for Campbell with half an hour to go, and he was soon in amongst it as he combined with Noz to allow a cross from Hendo, and Jones was on the end of it to head home. Glad tidings of comfort and joy – would we be getting at least a point from the blue part of Manchester for the first time in several yonks? Would we buggery. Barry crossed, and there was Santa Claus again to hit what turned out to be the winner. We threw on Healy for Mensah to try and exploit their sheikiness in defence for the last fifteen, but it wasn’t to be. Fulop did well to touch a shot onto the bar, and there were chances at both ends. I didn’t see much wrong with Turner’s challenge that was him sent off, but I’ve yet to study the video evidence (we got stuck in the snow just south of Ferryhill and I missed MOTD). If you were a neutral (if there is such a thing) and you’d been given a ticket for this one as a Christmas present, then you’d have been well pleased, and rightly so. If you were a City fan, you’d have been giving it a great big “phew”. As a Sunderland fan, you’d be justified in thinking “what have we got to do to win another away game?” Easy answer is to not allow soft balls across the box, which did for us twice.

Man of the Match? Catts was all over the place as he filled the large hole left by Cana, but for me Hendo just edged it with that super goal.

Then they sacked Mark Hughes, which just goes to show that almost without exception, football directors have no idea of how to run a club. Absolute idiots.

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