Mick McCarthy, purveyor of no nonsense tactics over an unnecessarily long and dismal managerial career, reached new heights in managerial incompetence when in charge of Sunderland. He failed to mastermind a single home win in an entire season in the top flight, when the misleading nicknamed 'Black Cats', in their red and white shirts, broke their own record for how utterly shite a top flight team can be, their relegation confirmed before the season had even started. Their desperate plight was underlined by their 'captain' Gary Breen, who, in McCarthy's final game in charge, showed the fantastic leadership qualities you would expect from someone wearing a black armband by playing volleyball when he must have known he was on a football pitch. The blatant handball earned the 'captain' a red card, just when his team needed to rally together to help avoid even more despair. After the inevitable resulting defeat, McCarthy faced the pundits and the cameras in the tunnel to explain his team's latest farce. Rather than carefully chosen words of defiance, McCarthy opted to speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. "You know what?" began the er.. Irishman, in his uncompromising Yorkshire brickie's accent, 'I'm sick and tired of coming out here, week in, week out, and telling you how bleedin awful we are". That interview represented his last words as the boss of 'The Black Cats', who haven't seemed to notice that black is actually the most prominent colour of their great rivals, the far more deluded but also superior Newcastle United. McCarthy has since yo-yoed Wolves about a bit before an overdue P-45 arrived following a despairing home run that culminated in a 5-1 thumping by world class neighbours West Bromwich Albion.