Shipwrecked Sunderland are a long way from salvation

Sunderland ended their pre-season with a 5-0 home defeat to Scottish Champions Celtic. It was supposed to be a day to celebrate 20 years at the Stadium of Light. Instead, at full-time, the ground was left a sea of green and white to one end, and abandoned everywhere else. With Derby to come on Friday, the club look to be in a dark place, with little hope of salvation, ahead of the new season.

credit: peter rutzler

The Stadium of Light is an impressive arena. A capacity of 49,000 puts the home of the Black Cats at the pinnacle of footballing stadia in the UK. As club historian Rob Mason proudly boasted in the match day programme, the ground has the potential to expand further - to 70,000, but even that may not be suffice - "If the club were ever to reach the heights that it once did as one of the game's superpowers, who is to say that an extended stadium would not be required?"

In fairness to Mason, he did preemptively add the caveat that such a comment was a 'fanciful' notion, but in light of current circumstances, to suggest expanding the stadium leaves a very bitter aftertaste for many among the Sunderland faithful. Apathy reigns off the field in Mackem country; 49,000, let alone 70, remains a figure only for the stattos.

Nonetheless, Saturday was supposed to be a day to celebrate 20 years since the club bid farewell to Roker Park. A clash against Scottish champions Celtic, supported by their loud and 'bhoysterous' following, seemed a perfect showpiece event to mark the occasion. Even a bi-plane was commandeered.

But what followed screamed of a side that remain shipwrecked without hope of being salvaged. It got off to an inauspicious start. Outside the Stadium of Light, Tommy Robinson's band of delinquents clashed with Celtic supporters, who in turn came to blows with members of the home crowd. Inside, the mascots chosen to wave flags for both clubs were drenched by an untimely use of the sprinklers.

But it was the home side's football that will cause the most concern.  After only a matter of minutes,  it quickly became clear that Sunderland would be celebrating 20 years at their now post-adolescent home by seeing which of their number could look the most incompetent. Lamine Kone kicked things off, after receiving an uncomfortable pass from new goalkeeper Jason Steele, the centre-half miscued his clearance horrendously, seeing a dreadful touch cannoning into the path of Callum McGregor, who scored the first of a merited hat-trick.

After 12 minutes it was 2-0 and everyone in the home-end knew what was to come next.  Admittedly, there were some bright moments; Wahbi Khazri forced a wonder stop from De Vries, whilst James Vaughan also went close. Didier N'Dong proved a disruptive influence for the visitors alongside Lee Cattermole, who, as usual, received the most rapturous of ovations for his gun-hoe tackling. But these moments were but flickers in the dark. By half time it was three, by full time it was five. Celtic's dominance was interspersed by the occasional squandering of a guilt-edged chance, none more so than James Vaughan's missed penalty, taken after he and Lewis Grabban had jostled over the right to take it. Falling out over a pre-season spot-kick does not bode well for the season ahead.

Celtic's supporters meanwhile roared into life from the get-go, for they had flocked south in their droves, almost outnumbering the subdued and undermanned home contingent. As the travelling faithful set about reeling off song after song in unison, creating an atmosphere that the Stadium of Light has not seen for some time, many a home supporter turned their smartphone lenses in their direction to capture their fervent support. After the game, as I made my way back through Sunderland town centre, I overheard one young Black Cat turn to his mother and ask, 'why can't we win and sing and dance like Celtic do?' 

The poignancy of his words when combined with the awe with which the home fans viewed the visitors is hard to ignore. Sunderland feel like a club that are due their last rites. There is no longer anger on the terraces, neither despondency, in fact, there is hardly anybody left on the terraces at all. Never have I seen supporters leave en masse with 30 minutes to go in a pre-season friendly.

Simon Grayson has inherited a poisoned chalice. Half the squad seem disinterested, the other half seem to evaporate inside the toxic cauldron that has become  the Stadium of Light. Somewhat ironic, you might say, considering this fixture was supposed to be a celebration of that very arena.

The most pressing concern for Sunderland is that the the new campaign starts on Friday with the visit of Derby County. Once the Championship gets underway, there is no hiding place, there is no two week gap to work on a few new things. Grayson has five days to turn this hapless bunch of 'footballers' into a team. On Saturday, it seemed like they had never met each other before.

On the pitch, things look bleak. But they haven't been helped by things off it. Ellis Short's botched sale of the club has hindered early activity in the transfer market, and his retention of control has left a disinterested figure at the top, who will now half-heartedly oversee Sunderland's attempts to return to the top flight.

But even the most optimistic Sunderland supporter must now realise that promotion is a long way off. On today's showing, even the basics were made to look like a tall order. After Khazri's premature departure, creativity ceased in midfield, with N'dong and Cattermole, as terrifically tenacious as they are, proving to be incapable of moving the ball in transitions quick enough, often not hitting their intended targets at all. Long, aimless balls, carelessness in possession and a back-line that was made to look like statuettes on more than one occasion only add to a growing list of footballing concerns that should be diminishing with the closure of pre-season, not vice versa. With the club set to enter one of the most competitive divisions in world football, Sunderland look unprepared, disillusioned and bereft of ideas before they have even kicked a ball. It is the equivalent to signing your own death certificate.

More than this, the atmosphere surrounding football on Wearside is souring to a point where potentially, many will be pushed away from the club altogether. The last few seasons have been miserable in this part of the world as we all know, especially for the supporters for whom football runs as blood through their veins. Relegation from the top flight became a question of when not if a few seasons back, as the club struggled to maintain its elite existence on life-support. But now, faced with the prospect of a difficult season in the Championship, lumbered with players on huge wages and an owner for whom managing Sunderland is not a joy but a unwanted chore, life-support may no longer be enough to keep Sunderland afloat. 

The club is now becoming a shadow of what it once was, and what it once elicited.  For one, losing Jordan Pickford was not only a blow on the pitch, but off it too, as another local lad flees the nest in order to escape his club's continued regression. I felt it on the terraces too, as an accent-less announcer read out the team-sheets that did not correspond to the big screens. This, along with the run-down goal net used for the crossbar challenge, the drenched mascots, the thuggery outside, the periodic dispute with a Celtic fan in the home-end and the complete and utter absence of people let alone a positive atmosphere inside the ground, something that was cruelly contrasted by the enthusiasm of the thousands of away supporters, all point to a club that is in desperate need of rejuvenation. But right now, it is hard to see where that is going to come from. 

Rob Mason may have been looking to the future with rose-tinted spectacles when he wrote his pre-match notes regarding the Stadium of Light at 20 years old. But he was not wrong with his claims about the past; there was once a time when Roker Park would host far more than a prospective 70,000. Today, Sunderland will do well to maintain 30,000.

Saturday was only one game. It was only a blot on a somewhat unremarkable pre-season. The real thing starts on Friday, and who knows, the whole place could be given a lift with a raised level of performance. But I fear such a turn of events would require Simon Grayson to possess powers akin to biblical figures, the ones who could bring life to the ailing.

Things must change. The apathy of that little boy whom I happened to overhear is surely not confined to one prospective young fan. The next generation are quickly finding no love in following their local club, the club that is supposed to represent who they are and where they come from.

For now, Grayson must somehow instill confidence in his shattered side and make them competitive ahead of the new season. It's safe to say, however, a long season lies ahead for all concerned with Sunderland.