The last time Sunderland visited the KC Stadium it was a hideous occasion. Both sides were at the wrong end of the Championship table, but while Niall Quinn had acknowledged his coaching shortcomings and persuaded Roy Keane to come along, the lack of progress for the Tigers under Phil Parkinson was as stark as ever, and getting worse.
The most remarkable thing about the game was that City very nearly got something from it. A goalless draw, as it looked like becoming, would have been daylight robbery against a Sunderland side who, reacting to the ferocity and calibre of their new manager, played the Tigers off the park thrice over.
That they couldn't score was nothing short of a miracle. Boaz Myhill made some saves, but generally Sunderland's finishing was as bleak and weak as you could never believe professional football players were capable of. But they were creating chances. City were merely creating fulsome rage on the terraces.
It was notable for the nadir of Parkinson's bizarre treatment of Damien Delaney, a rugged and long-serving defender of real effectiveness under Peter Taylor, but who had become a jack-of-all-trades without remotely mastering any under Parkinson. Well, he had mastered being a central defender as that's what he was, but Parkinson didn't want to play him there. He'd been in the centre of midfield, the position where he began his career at Leicester, but when Parkinson decided he should operate the left wing the incredulity and anger was obvious. None of the chagrin was aimed at Delaney as he blundered around the flank, unable to time runs, beat his full back or generally play anything resembling a wideman's game; it all went to Parkinson for forcing the lad to look a fool in front of thousands.
Finally, just as the added time was coming to an end and City seemed to have escaped footballing Alcatraz, the visitors scored thanks to a curling left-footer from Ross Wallace. The always-impressive travelling contingent went totally tonto, rightly, and Wallace removed his shirt, thereby tainting the moment for him as it was a bookable offence, and this was his second of the match. So, he scored the goal that won the game and got a ban for his trouble.
No member of the Tiger Nation could say we didn't deserve to lose, even though it was a tough way to take defeat - play as poorly as many could ever remember and not quite get away with it. But they could all say that Parkinson did deserve to lose for making such dreadful tactical and positional decisions and generally removing all the fight and will out of a more than capable team. We were bottom of the Championship and arguing about whether we merited such a position was a futile exercise.
Parkinson survived another six weeks or so before Phil Brown took over. Sunderland couldn't stop winning after this and took the Championship title and their place back in the Premier League. City did survive, but days like the defeat to Sunderland made us realise how lucky we were to stay up because, at times, we were the most abysmal team that level of football had seen.
Life and circumstances change, of course. Sunderland are now the ones scrabbling for points and purpose, awaiting a new manager's broom, while City are the freshest thing in football for decades. This weekend's match purveys a distinct shift in power and fortune since the two were last together at the KC, and the only way to wipe that awful memory of that previous meeting is to win, and win well. And then tell the Mackems afterwards that our manager isn't available.
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