Monday Musings - Wanted: 6 points
Monday, 24th Mar 2008 15:33 by Paul Redfern

Sunderland fans will be looking at the league table anxiously for two reasons.

One is the hope and half-expectation that they will avoid relegation which is looking increasingly possible with four points between them and Bolton. The other, much less important, but also increasingly possible is that they will discard the unwanted title of worst team ever.

At this stage of the season, all I can hope for is we salvage some pride and avoid that but we need six points. That's right - we need six points. Something akin to trying to find ram droppings in the Royal Infirmary.

Last week - I told a work colleague that Chelsea would beat us 6-0. He disagreed saying that Chelski were a low scoring team and it would be at most 3-0. As it happens, I was one goal wrong - we actually scored! I can imagine the fury of some Chelski fans that they actually let us score….

So, I've got out my crystal ball (actually it's a little white pockmarked ball that I use for playing golf) and I'm going to be making predictions to see where we can find those droppings from.

Home to Fulham. They'll be still thinking if they can do us, then they could just, might, stay up. So my prediction is that we play like useless prats for the first 40 minutes, and then there's a cross and with an open goal beckoning Miller kicks it into the stand. Two substitutes made at half time, and we play some decent football for - oh - all of ten minutes and then against the run of the play, Fulham score. We collapse like a soufflé and they score again. 0-2 to the Cottagers and a chant from 15 Fulham fans "can we play you every week?".

Away to Everton. We compete for 30 minutes and then there's some headless chicken (I must stop disparaging chickens) defending and they score - probably Cahill. In the second half, we go at them for 15 minutes and we carve out a chance, Earnshaw heads it wide. Everton players smirk at each other and wrap it up with two more goals. 3-0 and a chant of "we're going to Europe - thank you my darlings".

Home to Aston Villa. We play like we've just met in the pub the night before and for a laugh after a heavy session, we came together to make up a team. Martin O'Neill is jumping up and down almost losing his glasses in the process as Carroll makes save after save. PJ sits there glumly, his anger building until they score just before half-time to a nothing goal. Words, tea cups smashed, pizzas thrown - whatever, we come out and play like a team and suddenly we look like scoring and we're all getting ecstatic. Then they break away and it's 2-0. Cue booing from the stands as we droop off the field.

Away to West Ham. Less said about that the better. We controlled the game for about 20 minutes and then we lost the ability to pass to another white shirt and they took over. Comfortable winners - the chants roll out (you're taking the piss etc etc) and it's 3-0. There's a rumour after the game that six players were handed their P45s.

Home to the magnificent Arsenal. Do we play against them like we played against Manure? Sadly not, we all sit around and compare notes about their brilliant passing as they contrive to miss not once but twenty times from about five yards but they also score seven as well. Carroll is streaked with mud as are the central defenders, everybody else has a clean shirt as we toff our caps and pay homage. 7-0 it ends up.

Away to Blackburn, and the ram droppings are ever more elusive. Some wag runs onto the field parading a plastic cup with the legend - WORST TEAM EVER. The Blackburn fans guffaw and holler, while ours bravely chant Que Sera Sera. Surprisingly it turns out to be a real contest and it is probably one of our best games. And we keep going and Mark Hughes's face gets grimmer as the minutes tick away. We come agonisingly close several times - then we hit the bar and the referee blows for time. 0-0. And it's official, we're the worst team ever.

Home to Reading. A half empty stadium, about 10 Reading fans - they've secured themselves another season in the Premiership and they out-shout and out-sing our fans. Pride Park feels like a morgue as Reading - no great shakes - score twice and we barely raise a sweat with several players looking like they've swallowed too many anti-depressants. 2-0 to the Royals.

Eleven points in total. That's what my little white spherical thing is telling me. And Sunderland fans are going around with smiles and texting their Derby friends - thank you, THANK YOU.