Jobe Bellingham may be the hero you want, but he’s not the one we need

Bellingham has become a household name.

For most football fans that’s through the medium of Jude. For Sunderland fans, tis Jobe. And Jude. But mostly Jobe. And why not? He’s an eminent talent amongst an exciting roster of potential.

Since he was given his head (that’s an equestrian term, get your mind out of the gutter) he has come on in leaps and bounds. He deserves praise and he deserves recognition, and a chance to progress to the highest levels of the game. His future is in his own hands.

These days it feels like a competent young player can barely finish his debut before he’s destined for greatness (or ignobility) as far as anyone with a keyboard is concerned. The pressure to perform has never been so great, for players, clubs and gaffers, and the weight from that presses down on the fans who expect to be entertained.

Jobe Bellingham seems eager indeed to prove he can handle it. I doubt many of us would be surprised when he does.

Cue panic, then, at any hint of his departure. “BUT HE’S AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE TEAM!” you may scream internally. That is certainly true. At least, it is today. It may not be true tomorrow, and if you aren’t already, you should become accustomed to this idea. It is our flexibility and freedom that allowed us to recover from literal decimation and attract talent like Jobe Bellingham in the first place, and it is the reason we will be competitive for the next decade and beyond.

The price of stability in competition is high and can be paid in several ways. Some clubs pay it in straight cash, a huge risk that grows with every fresh 0. Others live hand to mouth, their clubs controlled by the fickle winds of fate as they move from stopgap to stop-gap in the form of loanees and “marquee” signings on tick. Sunderland is far more pragmatic with this of late, thank God, and so we pay through sacrifice, and what we offer up on that altar is the luxury of modern heroes.

The kind I’m talking about here are the super kind; nobodies that fast become somebodies, players that tear leagues up and break hearts. Goal scorers, speed demons, set piece specialists and the preternaturally prolific. But these stars often fall as quickly as they rise, and they don’t stay in the same skies for very long before they’re shining for someone else.

The term “steppingstone” can be overused in football and can be something of a misnomer if you think about it since it can be said about anything that precedes something else, but it is perhaps truest in this instance. Sunderland are a steppingstone, and we have been molded this way with very specific purpose. There’s no reason this should be a source of frustration to any fan. Look at Jack Clarke for instance.

Those of you concerned that the departure of Bellingham – or any player – would leave a void in the team have only to look at the sudden rise of Romaine Mundle this season.

When Jack Clarke left for pastures, new there was a palpable sense of trepidation; would we be able to hold the same line of pressure and keep the same routes of attack available to the team in his absence, things that brought the hope and excitement back to the Stadium of Light and which we depend on to keep us reaching for success?

Kristjan Speakman and his compadres knew we would. So, when Mundle stepped up and proved his place in the team was well-earned, I wager the only people who weren’t surprised were the ones who are held accountable if it all goes wrong.

That’s because they planned for it, and their entire operation revolves around… well, revolving. Like a door (that revolves).

Procure talent, develop talent, sell talent, repeat. That is how Sunderland operates now, and it’s fantastic, but it does come with the aforementioned catch – never again will we have access to what we might once have called a traditional route to success. There is no more building a team around a talisman. The pitch-side stewardship of Sunderland’s fortunes will never again depend on a Super______ or anyone there’s “only one” of.

What we do have is old-fashioned heroes, and it strikes me that this suits us best in no small part because we’re sort of an old-fashioned club at heart. Progressive, modern and even ahead of the curve in many ways now, certainly, but the soul of a club like Sunderland is retro, and you can dig it. You can see it embodied best in the behaviour and services of a gentleman like Luke O’Neil.

Now, I need no excuse to speak lovingly of Luke O’Neil, nor do I offer any defense to the hero worship I admit to on this page today, because love knows no rules and my love for Luke O’Neil shall remain unbound, but this isn’t simply an article about how I could get lost in the smile of Luke O’Neil.

This isn’t about Luke O’Neil, no matter how much I’m sure we all want it to be, nor is it about manifesting him in my home by repeating his name over and over again in quick succession*. It is about the idea of Luke O’Neil and what he represents in comparison to those around him who command increasingly higher fees to ply their trade elsewhere.

What we get in exchange for our status as a selling club, a steppingstone, is the chance to have heroes like him. Players that breathe Sunderland. Men who command the respect of their peers and the adoration of fans, earned not through slotting the ball home 30+ times per season, but by turning up every day to grind through the motions, men who have to fight to demonstrate their absolute loyalty to the crest.

This isn’t to say Jobe hasn’t fought or given every ounce of effort he can summon – he has, he had to   get the opportunity to play in the first place, let alone be noticed by the international football community – but he doesn’t see his playing days ending on Wearside.

Not every player that pulls on the shirt is a hero, and that’s just the way it is. It doesn’t take anything away from them or their graft, and it doesn’t toxify our relationship with them as fans, it is just part of the way things are. For those for whom the roar of Mackem’s still resounds in their heads as they drift to sleep that night however, our idolatry awaits. Our love is reserved for the kind of loyalty you can only find in the most faithful of companions.

Jobe Bellingham has worked very hard to get where he is, and if/when he goes, he will have earned his reward of moving on up, wherever he lands he will surely take our gratitude and affections with him forever, but he is not the beating heart of Sunderland AFC. That is reserved for those that stay. When we look forward to another game watching them struggling for the pride of a city, the heroes we need will be those on the pitch and ready to go when the dust settles, and the unending fight begins anew.

We’ve already met some of Sunderland’s next legends. We know their names and we know their faces, and while we will see more stars shoot across our horizon on the never-ending journey to finally win the football, the only star that truly matters is the one we already know. The one that will be there tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that until one of us expires.

Jobe Bellingham will be a star, have no doubt, but when he and those sure to follow his path move to a new sky, Luke O’Neil and the men that stand beside him will be the sun that still shines on all of us.