The Diary

17 April 2004: S-Day Minus One - And Counting!

Ooooh, only less than 24 hours to go before what?s one of our most vital games this term, and the collywobbles are really starting big-time. How the hell I?m going to sleep tonight, I don?t know. I suppose it?s better to put everything into perspective by remembering that as long as we don?t lose, then everything?s still hunky-dory. Sunderland still have to go to Palace midweek; that?s their game in hand, true, but Palace?s draw with Wigan this afternoon means they?re now only just a teensy bit adrift of the play-off places. Win that one, and they?re well and truly back in with the in-crowd, so they?re not exactly going to wave a white flag for that one, are they? Mind you, if you think we?re getting nervous, you should have listened to the phone call I had from West Ham?s Tony Fowles just before I started working on this piece. Today, they managed to beat Coventry 2-0, which means their supporters have suddenly gone from a state of grudging acceptance of the fact they?re not going to make the top six, even, to a resurgence of hope of volcanic proportions. Poor sods, they still can?t get their heads around this division, and according to Tony, the renewed prospect of heading for sudden-death football is now doing their heads in something awful. Just now, he asked me how we stood that sort of tension on a season-by-season basis, so I pointed out that after 16 years of false dawns, disappointment and all the rest of it, one?s nerves sort of got inured to all the resultant angst and trauma after a while.

It?s funny, though; earlier this season, I was quite unmoved by the possibility of heading straight back up at the first attempt, and this marked lack of enthusiasm on my part I put down to the fact that this time round, everyone and their cat were expecting us to do it. Plus the plain fact some of our football was hardly scintillating stuff, of course! At Bradford, for example, I came away from Valley Parade feeling as though I?d just hit my granny over the head with an iron bar. The first time of asking, that glorious 2001-02 season, no-one in their right mind had us down to reach escape velocity, either automatically, or via the play-offs (one pundit confidently expected us to leave the division by the tradesmen?s entrance!) so come that March, when we first started to put that amazing run-in together, we didn?t think that much of it. After all, we?ve travelled that road before, and been sorely disappointed, haven?t we?

Then, slowly, imperceptibly, we managed to play a sneaky little game of ?grandmother?s footsteps? with The Dingles, and come the final whistle at Highfield Road that Easter Monday, I think that was the moment it first dawned on most Baggies we could do it after all. There was a fairy-tale quality about us those last few games, magical, even, something that captivated the heart of even the most hard-bitten football hack. Not surprising, then, some of that ?magic dust? drifted past the players, and onto the shoulders of our many followers. Come on, could anyone have predicted that injury-time penalty, and the amazing way Igor put it away? Give that lot to a TV scriptwriter, and they?d have laughed like a drain. Too improbable, by half, they would have said ? and yes, I?d have agreed with them.

They say history never repeats itself, and in this case, I guess the theory?s been proven dead right. Last time, the whole thing was in doubt right until the last day, but this time, all being well, the issue could well be resolved by the time we play Stoke. If that happens, then great; it would be nice going to those last few games knowing we?re OK, and just enjoying the ride. At least we won?t be lacking bodies tomorrow; 40-plus coaches have been filled, which will make for quite a ?wall of sound? at the Stadium Of Light. If we can turn on the vocals the same way we did at Ipswich and at Millwall, then those Mackems won?t know what hit ?em. Loved the description of Supporters Club travel organiser Dave Holloway in tonight?s Argus, by the way. ?Rubber Duck?, forsooth! Having only just shaken off the old ?Mammoth? tag for good, it now looks as though he?s landed himself with yet another lovely sobriquet! The whole thing kicks off at ten tomorrow morning, by the way; we?re picking up The Fart first, then meeting The Noise at the Throstle Club, and taking it from there.

It?s fair to say that the history of Sunderland revolves around two principal industries: ships and coal. The first of these had been part and parcel of the place ever since the earliest human settlements, while the second only really came into prominence with the Industrial Revolution and the country?s insatiable desire for coal to power the snorting hissing monsters they called steam engines. Had it not been for those rich seams of black gold lying underground, and stretching for several miles underneath the North Sea, then it?s quite possible the Wearside town would never have expanded in the explosive way it did during the time of Queen Victoria.

Man?s presence in the North East dates from around 5000BC. When the Romans arrived, they found Britain to be a land of tribes and hill forts. Given the North-East is still one of the last bastions of make chauvinism, the locals probably wouldn?t be best pleased if I told them that during the Roman era, what is now Mackem Land was then part of the territory of the Brigantes, a tribe led by a woman called Cartimandua. The Romans eventually came to terms with the locals, and both coexisted very happily for the next 300 years or so, but in 410AD the Goths of the east did to Rome what Dingles like to do to football grounds in modern times, so troops were permanently withdrawn from Britain to defend the collapsing empire. That meant Britons were left at the mercy of the invading Anglo-Saxons.

From 430AD to 600AD, Saxons from Germany colonised the south of England but Angles or Anglians from southern Denmark colonised the north and east. From then on in, there was much bloodshed in the region as those pesky Viking folkies tried to expand their sphere of influence (their conquests extended as far as what is now Middlesbrough) even further still. Incidentally, those people in horny helmets had some wonderful names e.g. Ivar The Boneless, Eric Bloodaxe (see below). Whether Tommy Gaardsoe?s forebears were involved or not, I just don?t know. When Eric Bloodaxe became King of York in 948AD he claimed all of Northumbria as his own. He had one rival, though - Earl Oswulf.. Supported by the king of Wessex, Oswulf got someone to murder Bloodaxe, and on Eric's death, the independent territory of Northumbria came to an end. The king of Wessex then became king of all England.

William the Conqueror's conquest of the North wasn?t immediate. The northerners massacred his troops at Durham and York and murdered his appointed earls. It was only after William's "Harrying of the North" in the winter of 1069 that the conquest of the region began. It was completed by the construction of Norman castles at York, Richmond, Durham and "New Castle". No prizes for guessing the location of the last one.

Our story starts in earnest around the 12th century when the strip of land on the north side of the river, where a holy chappie called Benedict Biscop built his main monastery, became known as Bishopwearmouth. The Port of Sunderland itself has a heritage going back over 800 years, with the earliest evidence of maritime commerce being a charter granted in 1154. Sunderland was shipping cargoes of coal to Whitby Abbey in 1396 and ships were built there from 1346. Industry continued to grow along the river, with docks being present there from (at the very least) 1382.

Around the beginning of the 17th century, 14,700 tons of coal a year was being exported from Sunderland to London, but following a petition from Newcastle, the King ordered that part of Sunderland?s coal revenue must be paid to Newcastle?s merchants. That rotten decision must have pleased those mediaeval Mackems no end; I wonder if they still bear a grudge? During the Civil War, the place was invaded by Scottish troops fighting on the royalist side, and for a time, the coal trade was affected quite badly. In the mid 17th century, following the Civil War, the proximity of Sunderland to the nascent Durham coalfield further stimulated the development of its export trade. An increase in port facilities was needed, and more ships needed to be built. This in turn led to the growth of associated trades, and commerce grew by leaps and bounds as a happy by-product of the newly-expanded shipbuilding industry.

As the Industrial Revolution brought more and more factories to the place, it wasn?t all sunshine and light by any means. During 1907 and 1816, there were corn riots in the town, and in 1825 another riot broke out among seamen there following a dispute with coal owners. The Newcastle Militia (what would be called the Territorial Army these days) were brought in to restore order, and opened fire on the mob, killing four men. As communities grew along both banks of the river, it was logical to bring them together to form the Parliamentary Borough of Sunderland in 1835.

In the 1800's, yet another major industry sprang up in the area - flour milling. Before long, there were nearly a hundred windmills in the north east, but nearly all of them have now gone to the Great Mill In The Sky. Fulwell windmill, originally built in 1821, is one of the few remaining and also working windmills left. The Victorian age also saw the first manufacture of chemicals such as alkalis, which were used to make soap; these too were exported from the port in quantity. Around the same time, Sunderland was also rising to prominence as a glass-making centre. James Hartley?s Wear Glass Works was opened in 1836, and by 1865 one third of the sheet glass in England was supplied by his Sunderland works. Smashing!

Sunderland became the most important shipbuilding centre in the country in the 1830s and by 1840 there were no less than 65 shipyards. Over 150 wooden vessels were built there in 1850, when 2,025 shipwrights worked in the town. A further 2,000 were employed in related industries. Sunderland's first iron ships were built from 1852, and wooden shipbuilding ceased in 1876. In 1988 Sunderland witnessed the closure of its last shipyard. These days, car manufacturers Nissan are the main employers.

What with the demands of industry, and come the 20th century, the First World War, the town prospered, but come the peace and the subsequent depression, the shipbuilding orders vanished into thin air, and there was much poverty as a result. When the country finally rearmed, in anticipation of Hitler?s European antics, trade began to pick up once more, but even as late as 1940, there were still an awful lot of unemployed people in the region. The coal industry was nationalised after the conflict, but its death-knell was sounded after the miners? strike of the early eighties. The closure of the city?s last coalmine, Wearmouth Colliery, in 1994 brought to an end the traditional industries on which Sunderland had so long relied. In 1992, to mark Her Majesty the Queen ?s 40th year of reign, and in recognition of the way in which Sunderland had dealt with the blows of its industrial decline, and its efforts to reconstruct itself for the future, she accorded Sunderland the status of ?City?.

Famous Sunderland people? First off, try The Venerable Bede for size. Bede (690AD - 735AD) was the greatest man of learning of the Anglo-Saxon age. His works were known throughout Europe, and his monastery at nearby Jarrow was the brightest light of learning during the Dark Ages. Believe it or not, the system of dating we use today was first popularised by Bede over 1,200 years ago. A pretty important guy, then, but, as our leader would have said in scathing tones, ?can he defend??

Sunderland was also the birthplace of Victorian ?Railway King? George Hudson. Who? He?s the guy who played a very important part in developing the Northern railway network, most of which converges on York. Right now, he?s probably revolving in his grave at a speed of knots because of the almighty stuff-up we?ve made of the railways since privatisation.

Moving on to yet another Wearside genius, had someone had sufficient wit, his epitaph might well have been, ?Cor, strike a light, Guvnor?. Sunderland-born Joseph Swan sure did; inventor of the first practical light bulb, his creation would result in the widespread use of electric light throughout the world. When he demonstrated his brainchild for the first time in front of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society, he had 70 gas jets turned down, and their light immediately replaced by 20 electric bulbs. Which brings me neatly to my next poser; who sent him the first ever electric bill? It did get quite nasty, actually, as America?s Thomas Edison then claimed Swan had ripped him off, and legal proceedings looked likely, but it was subsequently established that both of them had been ?turned on? at about the same time, and quite independently of each other. So there.

So how did their supporters get the nickname ?Mackems? then? Easy; as I understand it, the expression first arose during World War 2, when the shipyards there were going full-blast churning out both merchant and naval ships. As fast as the U-boats could sink them, really. The locals liked to think they were pretty hard workers, and capable of churning out the goods in double-quick time, and their favourite expression, ?You tak? ?em, we?ll mak? ?em!? pretty soon got corrupted to the nickname we all know today.

Before I finally leave the subject of Sunderland?s quirks and foibles, it might be timely for me to tell you about the local legend of the Lambton Worm. During the Middle Ages, a young member of the Lambton family chose to fish on a Sunday despite warnings that it was unlucky. On this particular day he caught nothing but a worm, and in anger, threw it into a well. When grown, while young Lambton was away fighting the Crusades, the worm emerged from the well, a huge and ferocious beast. It then devastated Wearside, killing all in its path, and continued to grow, coiling its massive body around the hillsides.

On his return from the Holy Land, the brave young Lambton sought help from a witch on how best to slay the beast, but he was told that if he killed the creature, he would have to slay the very next living thing he met. The worm was killed ? well, hacked into several pieces, actually, which left the worm pretty ?cut up? about the whole thing, I reckon! - but sadly, it was Lambton's father who passed by first, and the young crusader, unable to murder him, reneged on his promise to the witch and condemned his family to a curse of untimely deaths that continued for nine generations.

There is a nice little sequel to the story, though. When the mines were nationalised just after the end of the war, all the local pitmen sang the old folk song commemorating the deed, ?The Lambton Worm?, by way of celebration; to them, the ?worm? represented the bad old pit owners, therefore the tale of the slaying, as immortalised in the ditty, was highly symbolic.

Right then, that?s it from me. An early night tonight, as the trip means a pretty early start for this column tomorrow. All you Baggies unable to make the game, or abroad, think of us, and light a candle for our safe deliverance, or something! Human sacrifices? Not if you?re in Wolverhampton, you don?t; for starters, you?d have one helluva job finding anything human to sacrifice in the first place! I?m hoping like hell I?ll be able to renew my scribing tomorrow evening and have something pretty exciting to talk about ? so fingers crossed. Remember what I said the other day? There?s only one thing can make us stuff this one up, right now ? and that?s us. Not that I think it will happen, I get the overwhelming impression our players are far more professional than to allow things to lapse to that extent. The important thing is to KEEP THE FAITH. It?s been a long and hard road, these past few months; just one more bumpy stretch to negotiate, and we?re there.

And finally??One Blimey, first it was drinking sherry in quantity, but now I reckon The Fart?s really gone and flipped his lid. How come? This afternoon, to take his mind off tomorrow, he attended a performance of ?Saturday Night Fever? at the Birmingham Hippodrome, the one with lots of disco dancing, gold medallions, and all the rest of it. Quite an alarming prospect were it youngsters getting up and joining in, but according to The Fart, the entire audience consisted of wrinklies! Cor, imagine it, granddads and grannies all throwing away their Zimmer frames, walking sticks, and tripping the light fantastic to the Bee Gees tunes ?Staying Alive? and ?How Deep Is Your Love? ? bet you anything the place was totally awash with discarded false gnashers and pension books by the time the show ended! Oh well ? at least the management wouldn?t have had much of a drug problem from the audience to contend with. Just how much damage can you do with two or three Phyllosan inside you, anyway?

Two..... I'd originally predicted a 1-0 win tomorrow, but I've now plumped for a draw. As far as I'm aware, thre aren't any significant selection problems, so we should we running with the normal side, but with the adddition of Hughsie up front, presumably.

 - Glynis Wright

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