This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with a decade-long whimper, the last groans of which fizzled out shortly before noon ET on Saturday, April 29. So it is: Sunderland are relegated.
Where to begin?
The Black Cats’ late, 10-year run in the Premier League has been unlike any I’ve known. There are really only three variations of the Premier League relegation story, the doomed-to-fail (see: Middlesbrough, 2016-17; Norwich, every time), the too-good-to-fail (see: Newcastle, 2008-09, 2015-16; West Ham, 2010-11) and the little-engines-that-couldn’t (see: Blackpool, 2010-11).
Sunderland’s story has been something else entirely. Surely no team in history has deserved to be relegated so much, and actually been relegated so little. You walk the tightrope for a couple seasons, maybe three or four. Not 10. Never 10.
Only eight teams have been in the Premier League for each of the past 10 seasons (including this one): Chelsea, Tottenham, Arsenal, Liverpool, Manchester United, Manchester City, Everton and … Sunderland.
In that time (as of May 2), United lead the way with 780 points. Chelsea are second with 764. Arsenal, on 726, are just ahead of City, on 707. Liverpool and Tottenham are next with 671 and 650, respectively. Everton are, considering two very down years under Roberto Martinez, on an impressive 586. Sunderland have 386.
When this season is done, the Black Cats will have fallen short of 40 points, traditionally the threshold required to avoid relegation, seven times in 10 years. And been relegated once. I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating: Sunderland’s 2015-16 was perhaps the most remarkable feat of relegation avoidance in Premier League (and probably any other) history. They ended 31 of their 38 matches in the relegation zone, and only climbed out for good after their 36th match of the season. They finished on 39 points.
Sunderland have turned narrowly avoiding the drop into an art form. Finally, after 10 miraculous seasons, logic has caught up to them. There is, it seems, only so long you can get away with being terrible.
What next?
There is not the optimism inspired by, say, Rafa Benitez’s too-late arrival and subsequent decision to stay at Newcastle last season, nor a recent enough promotion to claim Championship experience, and hope of an immediate bounce-back. The squad is, above all, bizarrely constructed — the most problematic byproduct of the price Sunderland have paid for 10 years of narrow escapes: 11 managers.
Certainly some players will leave, though there’s unlikely to be a big exodus given the quality of the squad. Lamine Kone and Didier N’Dong, in particular, are likely to receive offers. Jermain Defoe has a place in the Premier League if he wants it, you’d think, even at 34. The same goes for Jordan Pickford, though his age and position and birthplace mean he’s probably more likely to stick around.
Duncan Watmore is excellent, the sort of player who could drive a promotion push if he can stay fit. And if ever there were a player built for a bounce-back season in the Championship, it’s surely Lee Cattermole. Other than that, it’s a lot of questions.
Can Jack Rodwell revive his career? Is Adnan Januzaj good? What does Victor Anichebe do? Why did they sign Steven Pienaar? Does John O’Shea still qualify as a wise old head, or is he just bad now? Speaking of which, who does Wes Brown play for? (Excellent, true answer: he’s a player/coach for Blackburn).
The biggest question concerns the future of David Moyes, whose post-Everton career has entered its most harrowing chapter yet. One does not simply become a bad manager overnight, or in this case over four seasons, but his failures this year are cause for serious concern.
There were mitigating factors for Moyes at both Manchester United (an impossible job, taking over from Sir Alex Ferguson, which hindsight tells us he didn’t do particularly badly) and Real Sociedad (new country, new culture, the overall weirdness of the thing), if you wanted to look for them. But Sunderland seemed like a perfect fit for Moyes, even if he was a last-minute replacement for England-bound Sam Allardyce.
He has failed. The team can neither defend nor attack — they’ve conceded the fourth-most goals in the league, behind Swansea, Hull and Bournemouth, and scored the joint-fewest, with Middlesbrough — while Moyes’ get-the-band-back-together signings were concerning even before they were ineffective.
His decisions have come to appear increasingly like those of a man who is finding it ever more difficult to avoid the question everyone else has been asking of him for the past two years: is he still good at his job?
But the promise of the old Moyes, the Everton Moyes, the possibility he still exists somewhere inside this newer, harrowed Moyes is tantalizing. Sunderland have, over the past decade, fired managers to great effect, in that every firing/hiring has led to them staying in the top flight. But this has come at a cost, as evidenced by the fact the squad is not good, and has not been good for a long, long time.
This is all probably far too speculative for a set of fans whose willingness to show up has been remarkable. The average attendance at the Stadium of Light has dipped under 40,000 only once in the past decade. This in the face of a bumbling (but probably not malicious) owner, and a series of teams so miserable their top scorer has managed double digit goals in only five of the last 10 seasons.
To bank on Moyes is a big risk, but the reward is significant. Not just promotion, but continuity, the chance for the club to build an on-pitch identity, to move on from the short-termism that has seen them, somehow, cling on to their top flight status for so long. The chance, finally, to win.