MERRY MACKEMS
Sunderland have come a long way since their Netflix documentary b@nter-era nadir. It was a time of turmoil. A time when TV cameras were welcomed into the Stadium of Light to record their Brentian chief executive using a cryo-chamber studiously avoided by the players whose recovery it was supposed to aid. A time the club hierarchy famously spaffed £4m on a flame-retardant Will Grigg in a deadline-day panic buy. And a time when Jack Rodwell took up residence in the treatment room on his £70,000 per week League One contract. While local club staff worked as hard as they could to maintain their dignity in the most trying circumstances imaginable, Sunderland suffered back-to-back relegations from the Premier League and became marooned in the third tier and something of a laughing stock due in no small part to being co-owned by a posh bloke who thought an Ibiza house anthem was more suitable than Prokofiev’s Dance of the Knights as player walk-on music and often wandered around Wearside wearing red trousers.
