As Steve Bruce masterminds Sunderland’s latest bid for FA Cup glory with today’s tie at Portsmouth, sports writer Andy Richardson reflects on the achievements of the last Tynesider to bring a piece of silverware to Wearside, courtesy of a new book released to mark the achievement.

HOSTILITY rather than hospitality has long been the order of the day when those of a Black and White persuasion visit Wearside. So you are left to marvel at the bravery – or should that be foolhardiness?

– of Newcastle great Jackie Milburn when he defended one of his former team-mates against the rising anger of a Roker Park crowd.

Milburn was sitting in the press box in December 1972 as the home team struggled to break down a resolute Preston North End.

The Newcastle United striker, by then earning his corn for the News of the World, became incensed by the abuse his former teammate Bob Stokoe was getting from Sunderland supporters.

Milburn threw his pen at a fan who’d been berating the club’s recently-appointed manager with shouts of “get back to the black and whites Stokoe!”

Nowadays, both Milburn and Stokoe stand as permanent guardians over the Wear and Tyne rivals. Their bronze statues are memorials to men from the region’s football history who truly deserve to bear the moniker “legend.”

But in an intriguing parallel to the current situation at Sunderland, the appointment of a Tynesider with strong Newcastle connections was met initially by anger and suspicion among Wearside folk who’d been clamouring for the return of former hero Brian Clough.

Only six months later, however, Clough was sitting in the BBC press box at Wembley Stadium as Sunderland fans were hoisting aloft homemade banners proclaiming a man who had played at St James’ Park for nearly 14 years as their own Messiah.

If Steve Bruce wants to quash any lingering doubts that his Newcastle-supporting past makes him an unsuitable successor to Stokoe then he can rest assured that a decent Cup run, continuing today at Portsmouth, will set him on the road to beatification on Wearside.

Lance Hardy’s recently published book Stokoe, Sunderland and ‘73 is subtitled, “The story of the greatest FA Cup final shock of all time”. It is unlikely that even if the book is still being reprinted in 50 years any amendment will be required to that claim.

Sunderland’s victory over the one of the most powerful sides English football has ever seen ensures that TV producers use the Wearsiders’ involvement in the FA Cup as an annual excuse to replay clips of the famous day.

But replays of the game tell only a fraction of the story.

Hardy’s meticulously researched tale, supported by a host of specially commissioned interviews, brings the period into vivid relief.

It’s the richness of the detail that makes his story a mustread for anyone interested in North-East sport.

The author admits that the most gratifying comment he’s received was from Cupwinning midfielder Dennis Tueart.

“After reading it Dennis told me there were parts of the story even he didn’t know. He was so wrapped up in the whole thing at the time a lot of it had slipped from his memory,” said Hardy.

Discovering that the Sunderland squad met Michael Crawford (aka Frank Spencer) at the Football Writers’ Associations Player of the Year dinner a couple of days before the final places you right at the heart of the 1970s B-list celebrity lifestyle that Stokoe and his players were beginning to enjoy.

An anecdote from Sir Tim Rice recalling that immediately after his return from promoting Jesus Christ Superstar in Reykjavik he grabbed a newspaper to see if Sunderland had won their fifth round replay with Manchester City adds a welcome dash of showbiz camp absent from your run-ofthe- mill football biography.

And the story veers into War and Peace territory when the author notes that Sunderland striker Vic Halom’s maternal grandfather was a Cossack murdered by the Bolsheviks and that his parents met in a concentration camp. With a mother born in the Crimea and a father from Budapest, Halom, who grew up in a home where German was the language of choice, would have been eligible to play for England, Hungary or the USSR.

If Halom’s past sounds like the basis of a novel by Tolstoy then Stokoe’s is pure Catherine Cookson.

The son of a Sunderlandsupporting miner, he was born in Mickley, Northumberland, the same village where England’s greatest engraver, Thomas Bewick, was raised.

Stokoe was to leave his own indelible mark on the region following his distinguished career with Newcastle United, whom he helped secure the 1955 FA Cup, and his galvanising influence as manger of their great rivals.

Quite rightly, he never hid his affinity for Newcastle, although in one interview uncovered by Hardy, Stokoe claimed: “Although I was with Newcastle as a player, Sunderland were always my first love.” That suggests his father’s early influence helped him transcend the bitterness that simmers between the two clubs.

Montgomery was in no doubt where Stokoe’s allegiances lay, saying: “He was always black and white, Bob.”

That opinion was supported by Stokoe’s close friend and golf partner Len Shackleton.

David Peace’s novel The Damned United and its recent film adaptation highlighted the intense rivalry between Leeds boss Don Revie and Clough.

Hardy reckons that his book acts as a kind of prequel to the Damned United in that it broadens the scope of the Clough-Revie axis to include Stokoe, thereby adding spice to an already tasty narrative.

Stokoe was third choice to become Sunderland manager in 1972. The club’s chairman Keith Collings first met Revie then Clough to discuss the vacancy but wasn’t prepared to meet either man’s demands.

But the trio of North-East managers were much more that rivals for a job.

Stokoe’s predecessor as Sunderland manager, Alan Brown, is a key figure linking Revie, Clough and Stokoe.

Brown was Clough’s mentor at Roker Park, an old school disciplinarian who thought nothing of getting his players to head golf balls to toughen up their foreheads.

When Clough suffered his career-ending injury while playing for Sunderland, Brown worked desperately in the months that followed to try and effect a rehabilitation.

The player standing over Clough as he writhed in agony following the challenge that ended his playing days was Stokoe.

Convinced that the wily Teessider was feigning injury, Stokoe bellowed at the official: “He’s codding (kidding) you ref.”

That remark ensured that Stokoe was despised by Clough thereafter.

Revie, a former Sunderland captain, was sold by Brown to Leeds, setting in motion the rise of the Whites from nondescript Yorkshire club to a side feared throughout Europe.

As burgeoning managers, Revie and Stokoe came to eye one another with suspicion.

But that healthy competition took a darker turn following a pre-match exchange in the car park outside Gigg Lane on Good Friday 1962.

Stokoe claims that Revie said: “I’ve got £500 in my pocket for you to take it easy today.” The Bury playermanager replied: “Not bloody likely.”

A stunned Stokoe marched to his chairman’s office to tell him what had occurred but the young Bury boss was advised to keep quiet about the incident.

It scarred Stokoe to such an extent that when he recalled Revie’s alleged bribe to a journalist over 15 years later he wept uncontrollably.

An appreciation of that long-standing animosity makes Stokoe’s famous dash onto the Wembley turf seem as much like a valedictory dance in front of Revie, and the watching Clough, as it was a chance to embrace his match-saving keeper Montgomery.

Hardy, a producer for BBC Sport, admits that the corporation’s rival station stole a march by filming Stokoe’s reaction at the final whistle.

“I’ve spoken to the ITV match director Bob Gardam who had a hunch that Stokoe, being such a passionate man, might do something interesting,’’ revealed Hardy.

“So he put a camera on him towards the end of the game.

It proved to be an inspired decision.

“ITV captured the footage of Stokoe running on to the pitch but the BBC did not. It pains me as a BBC man to say that but fair play to them, on the day they got the crucial shot.

“And of course it’s that image that was used for the statue that now stands outside the Stadium of Light.’’ There is a final image that sums up the camaraderie in Sunderland’s squad that sustained their Cup run past Arsenal, Man City and Revie’s Leeds.

Following their triumph the players became household names, at least in England.

Winning goalscorer Ian Porterfield was brought down to earth on a post-Cup final trip to Majorca.

Halom recalls: “We were trying to get into this nightclub and the men on the door weren’t having it at all.

So Ian goes up to them and tells them in broken English: ‘Me Ian Porterfield, we are Sunderlando.’ “It didn’t work and we didn’t get in.”