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KEANE'S WRATH: The gaffer wasn't happy with his side on Saturday

SOMEBODY, sack my secretary.

Last time the derby came around, I said, in defiant style, that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than at the Stadium of Light.

It's just my luck then, that I will be nowhere near Newcastle on Sunday. I'm on holiday.

In fact, I'm getting as far away as you could possibly go without a passport. That's right, Cornwall.

There's no promise of Sky Sports. There's no promise the village we're staying in will even have a pub open anyway. I'm taking my radio, but I don't know whether I'll get reception.

The last time I got a phone signal down there, I was on the Torpoint ferry, in the middle of the Plymouth Sound. I was sea-sick.

And dedicated or not, I don't fancy heaving over the side of a boat while waiting to hear how Michael Chopra and co are getting on 500 miles away.

So what do I do? Do I write the chances of listening, watching or even finding out about the game off altogether? Should I make a Likely Lads-style attempt at ignoring the result until I watch the highlights later?

No, there's too many wind-up merchants in my family for that. Last time I believed one, my girlfriend had told me we were 1-0 up against Wigan in the FA Cup. I was almost doing cartwheels when the radio brought me crashing back down to earth with the news that we'd been mauled, 3-0.

In this age of wall-to-wall digital coverage, some may say it's refreshing that some parts of the UK are still untouched, out of touch, remote, quiet.

I say stuff that, I want to hear how Sunderland are getting on.

The ferry it is then.

I think some of our players had one eye on the beach on Saturday, following a drab performance against Man City If I was Keano, I'd have had them on the beach on Sunday, but rather than soak up the rays, they'd be doing sprints.

I know, I know, I said last week that we were totally safe, no chance of relegation, but that doesn't mean I expected the players to slack off.

If anything, they need to prove themselves now in order to be in with a chance of staying at the club in the summer.

I could hardly contain myself on Sunday.

You may remember me talking about a messageboard I post on, now and then, who were all saddened to learn of the loss of one of the posters on there, a lad by the name of Graeme, or Hazey to his online buds.

Well, Sunday saw the first six-a-side tournament held in his memory, with all proceeds going to charity.

I was on a 'misfits' team, alongside a few other waifs and strays, but more notably, John Kay. Former Sunderland right-back, John Kay. He, who canoed off the pitch on his stretcher after breaking his leg, John Kay.

He must have instantly regretted saying yes when he saw us assembled. The youngest lad in the team was 18. He was our 'runner'. I had conditioned my body for a solid stint between the sticks. That is, little running, lots of standing about, making the odd save for the cameras, having a bit of banter with the supporters.

We expected to win, and win well.

We lost all but one game - and that one game was a drab 0-0 draw.

Kaysie took it all in good humour, but we'd let him down.

My plan to stay in goal was foiled as one of my teammates got injured and had to go in nets.

I ended up lost, outfield, like Boris Johnson in that charity match a year or so back.

All told, over a grand was raised for charity.

I'm counting the costs this week though. Every bone in my body aches, I've got an imprint of a football on my thigh, my ankles feel awful.

But I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But I'm staying in goal.

5:00pm Tuesday 15th April 2008

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