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Welcome to an overspill site for Salut! Sunderland, a place to put longer files that some but not all people may wish to see. In addition, where the Who Are They? feature includes more than one article, the "overmatter" will - in time - have a link to here from the sub-category list in the main site's sidebar. The following is a very long - chapter length - expansion of my oft-argued reasons for placing passion for my football club some miles ahead of anything I feel for the national side. It was written for the Sunderand fanzine A Love Supreme's book More 24 Hour SAFC People, published in late 2007 and my share of the proceeds has been donated to charity
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Looking back, it was as golden an opportunity as Daniel Dichio's sitter in the Wembley playoff final against Charlton, or indeed the chance of his at Upton Park that would, if converted, have put us top of the Premiership. And I missed mine just as glaringly as Danny had missed his.
In one of the love letters that passed between us long ago, Joelle, then my wife-to-be, wrote that she could think of only one fault in me that she would change. I smoked too much. She might have added others: permanently broke, holes in my socks and underpants, coming from Shildon, being lousy at her native language, French. She has certainly added plenty since and while the French has improved, there isn't much I can do about coming from Shildon. But back then, it was the fags that concerned her. If only I would cut down, she wrote to me from Le Mans, her home town, she would in return do anything I asked of her.
Talk about open goals. There it was, my cue to secure a lifetime of pass-outs to watch Sunderland !