The match largely resembled our season as two different sides might as well have shown up either side of the half. It was a complete contrast either side of the fifteen minute interval and you can only imagine that's because Steve Bruce threatened each and everyone of them with some form of physical torture if they went back out after the break and performed the same as they had been.
The first ten minutes looked good for us, for a moment I was expecting a stroll in the park of a match. Then I rudely remembered I was a Sunderland fan and regardless of what four defenders were put on the pitch, we'd make it difficult. If you put Sergio Ramos, Nemanja Vidic, John Terry and Ashley Cole at the back in Sunderland shirts you still imagine they would give the ball away as many times as we usually do. Saying that I thought Alan Hutton's debut in a Sunderland shirt was as good as any I can remembered, the Scot looked calm and assured on the ball and got forward well.
However after those ten minutes were up we were made to look pretty poor by a side that probably can't claim to be much better than “pretty poor” themselves. Maynor Figueroa and Charles N'Zogbia aside Wigan's side wouldn't really inspire me with much confidence yet we failed to test Titus Bramble and Gary Caldwell at all for long periods of the first half with our two very good strikers.
However the goal came on the twenty minute mark from Mohamed Diame, his first for Wigan. Evading challenge after challenge he absolutely thundered his strike into the back of the net, a fine goal that was gifted from the usually efficient Lorik Cana. I read in the Times newspaper on the way to the match that, as a team, we had the second highest percentage of balls given away in our defensive third. Cana upped that percentage some as his dithering lead to Diame's interception and the ensuing goal. Jones almost got us back on track with a shot, but a last ditch tackle from Figueroa managed to spin the ball onto the post and out of play – it looked like one of those days.
At half time I'm guessing Bruce left it all on the table. Having almost contemplated going to the bar and not returning, I'm glad I came back to my seat because a rejuvenated eleven men stepped back onto the field and took the game by the scruff of the neck. I was dejected to see Andy Reid come back out for the second half having been made to look every bit the player Trapattoni assumes he is when omitting him from Ireland squads. His freekick and corner deliveries had been worse than rubbish, but he began to find his creative stride again in the second half.
The whole team was playing with more confidence, but it was Wigan who almost went 2-0 up against the run of play. Having thrown Turner to the ground, James McCarthy raced through one-on-one with Craig Gordon but the goalkeeper spread himself well to avert the danger and make sure justice was done. Turner then wasted a glorious chance at the other end, somehow missing the target completely from a stones throw away as he flicked on Henderson's pin point cross. However, Jones made it all right after the hour mark, with the fans roaring the team on ferociously he turned in Henderson's cross and we were back on level pegging, and rightly so.
We were the only team that looked like winning it, N'Zogbia still looked vicious on the break with his pace but when Marcelo Moreno took the ball to the corner with stoppage time still to come – and there was going to be plenty of it following Jordan Henderson's long injury treatment for suspected ankle ligament damage which may end his season – you knew Wigan were content with the point. And a point they got. It was probably a fair reflection on a match where I can only imagine we wasted the first 45 minutes and gave them a head start.
Credit to the Wigan fans who turned up. There weren't many of you and I'm pretty sure I could get your names all written down on a post-it note if I wanted to, it must be hard to go travel away every fortnight knowing your in for a barrage of assault from the opposing fans, despite you being the ones who bother to turn up.
