On this day in 2022, we produced a goal from a beautiful passing move after Patrick Roberts scored two identical goals in the wake of Simms limping off the pitch, leaving us striker-less. Here's Sobs' report from that great day out...
Well, what on earth can you say about that? Already shorn of the services of our main striker, we lost the other ten minutes before the break, but adapted quite superbly to quite simply pass the home side to death. Pace and fluent movement had already been established as our modus operandi before the unfortunate Simms had to leave the arena, but the way we played throughout was just lovely. The stuff of dreams – and full marks to the gaffer for making best use of the ball skills of players like Clarke and Roberts when we don’t have the usual suspects up top.
Naturally, it hadn’t started well, with the train from Bishop falling foul of a broken summat and the services of Phil’s taxis being required to get me to the 1300 from Darlo. Thereafter things went more to plan, and after checking in to my salubrious penthouse (room 8) I met up with Blake at the handily nearby Nags Head (serendipity’s best deal to me in a while). From there it was a simple walk back to the station to meet the usual suspects and discuss the team, which was:
Patterson
Gooch Batth O’Nien Alese
Neil Evans ©
Roberts Pritchard Clarke
Simms
..and a bench of Bass, Dajaku, Matete, Diallo, Embleton, Bennette, and Hume.
With the minute’s silence being impeccably observed and the rendition of God Save the King being bellowed from the away end, the football world showed that the decision to postpone the weekend’s games was a wrong’un. You don’t have to be a Royalist to appreciate seventy years in the same job – just sayin’.
Anyway, we kicked off away from the packed away end, most of whom were taking the much-deserved mickey out of the drum in the home ends – one of which was very obviously placed next to a microphone. Oh, give awwa- if you can’t sing and shout, just go home. Alese’s first league start saw him in a role that was somewhere between left back and left of central defence, but with Clarke (who seems to have grown a fair few inches over the summer) always ready to sprint down the wing, he always had an outlet. For the first fifteen minutes, we fairly camped in their half, but didn’t manage to work anything that their keeper had to really worry about, while the home side’s forays into our half seemed on a par with the home attendance – sparse and rather half-hearted. Down at the other end, we in the seats were wanting Roberts to push forwards a bit more, just to be a presence around Simms and possibly pick up anything the big Lad laid off. Reading seemed reluctant to burst forward, and relied heavily on the physical presence of their central defence to keep us at bay.
We won three corners in quick succession – the first of which was fired in low and cleared - as we approached the half hour, then Simms took a knock near the corner flag on our right. Simms and a Reading player went down hurt, and there was a flurry of social media messages bemoaning the fact that we’d not signed Erling Haaland as backup to Simms and Stewart.
Doesn’t care much for ham and pease pudding stotties, apparently. Anyway, Simms was down again, then went off only to come back on before finally giving up the ghost on 37, with Embleton coming on and us fans wondering who was going to win a header in the opposition’s box.
Reading won their first corner on our right, and the absence of Simms and Stewart was notable as their fella comfortably won the header – but Patto was equally comfortable in taking it.
Blake’s message of “failure to sign another striker has come back to bite us” had barely had time to whizz through the ether when Embo played Roberts in, Ronnie T screamed “cut inside and shoot” – so little Paddy did just that, picking his spot low to the keeper’s right to make it 1-0. Stick that up your drum and see what happens. A celebrating Mackem hoyed his shirt so far up in the air that it got stuck on a rafter, so someone chucked what looked very much like an ALS black polo shirt at it – which also got stuck for a while. On the field, Dan Neil had been spraying passes all over the shop since kick-off, but within a minute of us going ahead, Embo repeated the trick and found Roberts in the perfect position to double our lead with another precise finish. Oh, just lovely – 2-0 and only 41 minutes gone. Another cracking goal that had started deep in our own half, that was the result of some lovely crisp passing, and one that had Reading shaking their heads in disbelief at how defensively loose they’d been. While that might be true, the pace at which we were moving the ball around was pretty damn impressive.
Batth was mopping up pretty much everything that arrived high, while O9 was doing a passable impression of a Colin Todd (ask yer granddad) tribute act picking up pretty much everything that Reading tried to play along the deck. Some snappy tackling was involved, which always helps get our fans revved up, and we responded to their drumming with some fairly acerbic chanting. Drums, empty seats, Paul Ince as manager – easy targets.
Four added minutes were announced, which we quite enjoyed, but not enough to add to the scoreline – hey, two up away, I was more than happy.
The home side replaced Loum with Baba for the second half, while we save our changes up for later. Several times we almost got Clarke away down our left, with Dan Neil the main supplier and the linesman the main spoiler with his offside flag, but we weren’t to be denied. As Sunderland fans, we’re hardened to two-goal advantages being squandered, so despite Reading hoofing their only two real chances into row Z or further, some of us wondered if we could hold onto the lead.
Of course we could, and we could do even better. From Patto’s pass out, there were another eleven touches as we zipped up the right and Neil’s ball across the field to find Clarke was as good a pass as you’ll see de Bruyne produce this season. Jack cleverly took his marker out of the game with a deft touch, then simply clipped the ball past the hapless Lumley for 3-0. What a goal – you’ll not see better. As we celebrated, I received a message from our Ian telling me that Lumley is on loan from Boro, and that Smoggies of his acquaintance have such a low opinion of him that you’d need a drill to find it. Ah well – that third one, with a shade over twenty minutes to go, settled my pessimistic nerves, and the visiting fans made loud suggestions as to where the Reading drum might best be stored. Sideways.
Totally in control, we brought on Diallo and Matete for Roberts and Pritchard, and we were treated to a lovely touch from Diallo on the left that almost set us away again.
With six to go, Evans made way for Bennette – who promptly put his marker on his arse and treated us to the sight of someone faster than Usain Bolt – look, I’ve seen some speed merchants in my time, but those ten yards he covered then disappeared like nobody’s business. Wow, just wow – and Clarke should really have made it four, but his flick past the keeper went the wrong side of the post.
Three added minutes were announced, much to the disappointment of the home players, who just wanted to go to the pub, I’d imagine. Anyway, we passed it about and ended the game with nothing to moan about other than the yellow for Alese when several Royals had committed worse challenges.
Man of the Match? Not a single iffy display out there, and many to crow over. Patto might not have had much to do, but what he had to do, he did well and was at the origin of goals. Batth seemed to scare the life out of the home centre-forward, who was a big lad, while O9 feared nowt and played it about nicely when required. Gooch was decisive, Clarke (despite his slightly worrying tendency to cut back inside and expect his defensive marras to play like Beckenbauer) was a constant worry to the home defence. Alese looked strong and swift, while more than willing to carry the ball forward when the opportunity arose. Evans played another captain’s game, Pritch was a pest, and while the injury to Simms was worrying, it gave two Lads the chance to shine. Roberts became Stan Cummins and tucked away two cracking goals, set up by Embo who was all over the space behind Roberts.
I think that despite Roberts scoring twice and Embo setting him up for both, I’ll give it to Dan Neil, as he bossed the midfield like the player we know he can be.
Trying not to smile too obviously on the bus back to town, I managed a celebratory pint and possibly the nicest donner kebab I’ve had – and it tasted all the nicer when Paul Ince (not someone I’m a fan of. Euro 96, penalty shoot-out, the Guvnor...) said we played like Barcelona. Mind, his side were rubbish.
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