Off Topic What does Sunderland mean to you?

Growing up 20 miles from Liverpool I supported them as a kid.
But it didn't sit right.
Apart from some Scouse family on me Welsh mams side, there was no connection for me.

Me dad was from South Shields and other family around the North East.

Liverpool were winning everything but I decided I wanted to support a North East side. It was between Sunderland and some black and white fookers.

Me Nan had bought me a 1973 cup final tea towel. (I still have it)

https://www.sunderlandecho.com/heri...ning-tea-towel-cleaned-up-49-years-on-3722669

I thought, it has to be Sunderland, and it's nearer to Shields so the choice was made. And the right one I've always known
Especially finding out my great great granda was from Sunderland

I used to get to games when younger and it's always felt right for me.
I used to look out for all North East sides but couldn't care less nowadays except for Sunderland.
(Oh and Shields)


Some family found it amusing I supported Sunderland and came up just for games. They nicknamed me Taffy Mackem


I support Sunderland because of my North east connection but most of all because of the fans.
There is nothing,, Nothing like the buzz of being surrounded by Mackems when that ball goes in the net

What does Sunderland mean to me?
If I had a normal upbringing then probably nothing. As it stood I didn’t.
Here’s the story.
I was born in August 1966 in Hertford, being the county town of Hertfordshire. My dad had moved down there from Sunderland to join the police a couple of years previously to my birth but by the time I was born he had left the cops and was working in a factory. He was never interested in football and still isn’t.
Anyway, he met my mum down there, got her up the duff and as was the attitude then got married.
I should point out that my dad is an only child as that plays a part in my Sunderland journey. My grandparents on my dad’s side always wanted more than one child but couldn’t. My grandparents, when they were alive didn’t like my mum. Even though they had come from ordinary working class stock themselves they thought my mum, coming from a council house, had trapped my dad.
So, in August 1966 I turned up. My mum had pretty bad post natal depression and my dad, bless him, didn’t have a clue. It was suggested by my grandparents that I should stay with them until my mum got better, to which my dad readily agreed. He would stay in Hertford with my mum.
Thing is, my grandparents actually had no intention of ever returning me to my parents. They wanted that second child and I was it. So, at around three weeks old off I went in my grandads Vauxhall Viva up the A1 to Sunderland. Not that I knew anything of how my life would turn out of course.
Eventually my mum got better and I was requested to be returned. My grandparents would initially find reasons not to give me back. So, against my mums better judgment my parents decided that to at least be close to me they would move to Sunderland.
To give an example of how much my grandparents despised my mum, here’s an example. My grandmother on my mums side died in her mid 50s riddled with cancer. She died after I was born and shortly after my parents had moved to Sunderland. They were living in my grandparents house. On the day my mum found out, she was quite rightfully devastated and was crying in bed. My grandmother, instead of comforting her, came in, gave her a slap and told her to shut up as she was keeping me awake.
By the time I was two or three years old my parents were regularly asking for me back. At this point my grandparents just told them that I was staying with them and if they wanted me back they would take them to court and prove how unfit they were as parents. They even changed their will to make me the sole beneficiary.
My mum eventually told me that the extended family in my dad’s side didn’t agree with what my grandparents did but none of them did anything about trying to make it right. My dad was too soft/weak to stand up to them.
The thing is, my grandparents showered me with love and affection. I couldn’t have been more loved. It’s only as I matured and grew up did I see that I was treated differently by my friends parents. They knew that it was wrong as well. It’s difficult to understand even now.
So for supporting the lads, my grandad to me to Roker Park (first game NYD 1974 v Notts County - we lost, thanks grandad!) which was something that he wanted to do with my dad. Unlike my dad I lapped it up as I loved football and took to following Sunderland AFC as easy as a duck to water.
Aged 13, my mum and dad were living in Carrville just outside of Durham. It was then that I realised that something wasn’t quite right and made the decision that I should be living with them. So that’s what I did.
Remember that my grandparents had changed their will? Well, before they died I persuaded my grandad that what he did was wrong and he changed it again making my dad the beneficiary. I have always had a strong sense of right and wrong, which probably explains my current career of the last 30 years.
I love my parents but as I’m sure you can guess, we don’t have a close relationship. They are still married and currently live in Daventry, Northamptonshire. We talk about once a month. My dad has frequently told me that he can never forgive himself for what happened. Thing is, I can and have. Like me he was a victim of circumstance and was up against formidable people in my grandparents. It happened and neither of us can make it unhappen. What we can do is move on and become better people as a result.
My wife and I have a son, born in Northampton, where I was a cop prior to emigrating. He could have supported any number of bigger teams but being the good dad I am he doesn’t. He was even the mascot for SAFC in 2007 just before we left for pastures new (thanks SNQ).
That’s what Sunderland means to me. A town/city, which ordinarily I would have thought little about but for circumstances completely out of my control. As it stands though I am proud to say that’s where I grew up and one whose football team has the greatest supporters anywhere in the country. HTL!!!
Well, it was quite cathartic typing that!
I’ve also got no idea how to get rid of that file that’s attached on here!

File gone

Everything.

I was obsessed with football and cars from as soon as my brain could process its own thought. Boobs didn’t enter the fray until I was 13.

Wasn’t much of a watcher of football, used to be on ITV my Dad would have it on used to prefer just to watch Saint & Greavsie and see the goals.

Anyway I’m about 5 or 6 and lads at school have started going to the odd game, I kinda wanted to feel involved in that and started asking my Dad (a Mag) to take me.

He comes in from graft one Tuesday night and tells me we going match. Ran around the house excited. The realisation it was a Newcastle match didn’t hit me until we were there…

Wednesday, ‘we going to the match’ ‘again?’. This time it’s Sunderland. We playing Ipswich. Eternal soft spot.

I remember in the Tuesday not being really into it. I didn’t know who the players were I didn’t know the shirts. Wednesday is different.

The red & white that pals at school have on. Marco. Just Marco was enough. We stood in the clock stand. I was tiny until I was 13 and had a growth spurt I had to climb up the concrete ramp on the side of the steps to see the pitch. I was in awe. The floodlights, the pitch. The ****ing grace of the game (it really is a graceful game, we just don’t respect the first touch, the movement like we should).

What hooked me though wasn’t this. The laughter for the Vaux lads was infectious even to a child, that vibe that folk really get and care about each other ‘banter’, even Tom young to understand what it was, you felt it was real.

My uncle Jeff picked up the baton and we went to most games, if he couldn’t take me my dad’s pal Micky would. Top bloke. We’d go to his Mams down Roker first, game of cards and some home made pies. Champion.

As I got older and started to grow up, got more into that banter side. Buzzed off the vibe in the ground. Highs and lows. We moved over to Main Stand Roker wing, chose over the Fulwell as we like being side on.

Made a million pals in there. Never knew your name knew your face. Everyone knew the faces. Every game same faces. Compete with the Fulwell to be loudest, more banter. Learned the value of sarcasm, of friendly piss taking, of unity and of all pulling for the same thing.

Reid comes in we going up. Top flight (we’d been a few years earlier but I didn’t really understand it all at that point).

Floodlights, craic, learn how to interact with people socially, Bergkamp in OUR stadium. Wow.

‘Welcome To Sunderland’ in the Fulwell. Eternally iconic to me used to stand and stare at that sign, and the Fulwell.

Waddles rocket. Core memory. Should have been enough.

I went for a boy to a young man at Roker Park. Taking in the banter and interactions. The handshakes and the piss taking. It shaped me as a human being and every success I have had in life has been due to bonds I form with people and personal interactions. All of this stemmed from these big groups at Roker Park.

What does Sunderland mean to me. It’s in my core and my soul and as listed above without it, I’d probably be a very different human.

It’s not the match. It’s not the football. It’s camaraderie and compassion, it’s learning to interact with all walks of life. It’s escapism and entrapment at the same time. It’s emotions. It’s the highest highs and the lowest lows outside of death.

I need SAFC like it needs us. It’s an eternal and unwavering love. A huge chunk of who I am and what made me who I am. A true constant in what was sometimes turbulent and is now a very settled, stable and secure journey through to being a ‘grown up’. It’s lifelong friendships and family bonds. It’s focus and distraction. Its release.

I’m in my 40’s now. Thousands of games deep. I get butterflies as I walk to the stadium to this day. Still obsessed with the sounds, smells, the sound of laughter. Togetherness. Walking up the access and the pitch appearing still feels like that first time at Roker and I guess it always will. As close to being religious as I could ever be.

Sunderland till I die doesn’t tell half the story. SAFC doesn’t ’mean something to me’. It ****ing is me.

Grew up in Edinburgh. All my mates were Hearts/Hibs but from the minute I understood what football was - I was Sunderland (thanks Dad!)
We have a history of supporting Sunderland back to the late 19th century, but (as far as I understand) none of us were from Sunderland. My Great Grandfather was first - supporting Sunderland and Newcastle. His son, brought up in Jarrow was next, but in his 20s (the 1930s) he picked Sunderland over Newcastle and his 4 sons followed. My Dad grew up on Merseyside, but he and his brothers were all Sunderland.

When I was 8 or 9 we moved to North Tyneside and I was at school with 99% black and whites. I kept my allegiances hidden until the night before the 1990 play off game. As soon as Marco slid in that second goal I knew I was in trouble. The next day, 8 or 10 of the hard lads in my year gave me a good kicking. The worst of the lot was a flying knee to the back which I attribute to some of the back problems I have today. Spent more of my life living in North Tyneside, having to endure the barcodes having the occasional flirt with the top of the PL but all the while doubling down on my love of the lads. The night before the scum beat Barca in the CL, we struggled past Bury in the League Cup. I still know which game I'd rather have been at.

10 years to the day, my son was born (ironically, a stone's throw from Castle Grayskull) but I knew he would be red and white and so it followed. He's nearly 17 now and is as red & white as they come. Now we have season tickets with my Dad, my 2 mates and their kids. we all sit together and honestly I wouldn't have changed a thing about the last 10 years of having a SC. Seen the lows and the even lowers, but here we are 4 days away from the new season and I'm as excited as I was when i went to my first match aged 8.

That's what Sunderland means to me.

Born and bred in Sunderland and supported them since I was a kid, was a season ticket holder for many years after I left the Army and went to many games when I was posted in Catterick, have been watching them abroad for years now thanks to SAFSEE and now the new digital platform.

It doesn't dominate my life, but I don't get a buzz from anything else like a Sunderland goal or a win.

Being a Sunderland fan has took me on an incredible journey, I think Sunderland Till I Die would have been great if started earlier, when Keane took over, Di Canio would have been interesting seeing behind the scenes and the wins against the mags, to be a fly in the dressing room after those games would have been fantastic.

My family all supported sunderland
However my dads uncle always promised to take me to Roker park in the late 50s/60s
This never happened and had to wait untill I could go myself 1963/54 season

Vincemac said:

My family all supported sunderland
However my dads uncle always promised to take me to Roker park in the late 50s/60s
This never happened and had to wait untill I could go myself 1963/54 season

Click to expand...

Self-inflicted then?

Evil Jimmy Krankie said:

Self-inflicted then?

Click to expand...

Yeah missed all them years cause me dads uncle wouldn’t take me

Born in the Sunderland General in the mid 80s, live 2 mile from the stadium. Got myself into football in the mid 90s as most of my family aren't football people, and I needed something in common with lads at school. Watched Champions Leauge on a Wednesday and match of the day religiously to learn the rules. Went to the first ever game at the Stadium of Light with an uncle and a cousin that were kind of into football, walked up to the ground, saw the green pitch and was instantly addicted. I'll defend the club and city to anyone that talks **** about them both. I could've easly became a mid 90s Man U fan because of the Champions league like so many others did and do. Easy to "support" the big winning teams. When I drive past the stadium I smile.... that's what it means to me... makes me smile. We endure the very lows so we can enjoy the rare moments of pure joy, like stood in Wembley stadium, arm in arm with startangers and mates singing Wonder Wall.Or Defore taking us 3-2 up against Chelsea. Moments like that.

What does Sunderland mean to me?

Coming from Southampton ( the shirt blends in), Dad (and his side) from Durham ( From Neville's cross, have family that lives in Wingate ((the Tonks used to own a fair bit of it)) Mum from Manchester, its hard to say I feel like a 100% mackem
but on games days its chatting to the people around me like I've known them for years, its getting hugged of strangers, its talking to people about one common theme, the 11 ( plus subs) uselss feckers on the pitch,
but not any uselsess feckers,
my useless feckers.

its turning strangers into friends, friends into families. its that feeling on anticipation waking on game day, its the walk to the stadium, its the pie at thr ground, the pint at the pub, its chanting, the jeering, its the celebrating, its the moaning, its highs and the lows, its the ups and the downs, its the from the sublime to the daft.

its 46k singing Wonderwall at Wembley, its crying at Wembley seeing Sunderland win there, its the feeling, its the pride, its the passion
its a red and white family, we come in different sizes, genders, faiths etc, but come game day, we are one.

We are Sunderland AFC

and I sunlan till i die

Sunderland doesn't mean an awful lot to me tbh, the town isn't my town and the accent is different. I have no particular affiliation, my heart is in Durham and my history in the Borders ...

... but SAFC means a lot, something that, through life's ups and downs, has always been there.

It's part of the spoken history of my family, the local lads who've worn the shirt and the endless friends I've made.

Some of those friends have moved around the country, and the world, but it's always part of our world and part of our conversations. No matter what happens, in our lives, the club is always there. We can fall out with family & friends, leave workmates behind, even divorce our partner ... but there's always SAFC and the memories.

Of course we filter out the bad times but the good times always readily spring to mind. Sometimes we can't remember the scorers in a game, sometimes not even the score, but we do remember who we were with, where we had a pint and what scrapes we got into.

Football is, of course, totally pointless and just a game ...

... but, to those of us, who want to believe there's something special no one will ever convince us otherwise.

Ha'way the Lads!!!

The eloquence here is breathtaking.
I’m a proud mackem (tho’ now exiled) this post just makes me burst.