In episode one, of 'Sunderland 'Til I Die', Charlie Methven says "[Sunderland] is what stops people from crying in church."

As we have learned, it doesn't so much stop the tears as it does relocate them somewhere far more appropriate.

The absolutely mental opening scene starts with dozens of men, women and children carrying and erecting a massive cross on top of the highest hill in the city. A bearded actor does his best Christ impression as the priest offers a prayer for the club's promotion. Finally, we will find out if Sunderland are god-forsaken.

"This time last year, we were beaten and relegated - but because of the hope and belief of our supporters, we dare to dream," says the unnamed priest, with furrowed brow, clicking his fingers to try and summon a comparable historical situation.

Jack Ross goes to the nth degree to secure promotion

It is an odd tableau, conflating two different aspects to the lives of some in the city. The first of utmost importance to people all over the world and the other - well, you see where I'm going here, so I will save us both the time.

On to the football action - a distraction that we could do without in this documentary -  and we start with 6 (SIX) first-half goals at home to Coventry, with the teams going in level.  We are reaching the climax of the season with Sunderland just about bothering the automatics but with the playoffs seeming inevitable.

All is not right, and it is becoming clear that Jack Ross is under increased pressure. To the point where, after Coventry takes the lead, the programme makes it out that Aiden McGeady effectively subs himself on.

"That was heroically bad defending on a Napoleonic scale," says Methven of the 5-4 loss. He couldn't appear more classically-educated if he was dictating to a PA writing his words with a quill. Clearly, all is not right between manager Ross and the board.

Depression in 'Sunderland 'Til I Die'

Ross appears to be the epitome of style over substance. If only every run-of-the-mill manager got themselves a personal shopper at Burton and carried themselves with the air of a former catalogue model.

In truth, we don't really get any form of glimpse at the day-to-day of the manager or his training style. A lot of managers would baulk at a camera crew being around, which makes the likes of the Graham Taylor documentary 'An Impossible Job' all the more remarkable. But it would have been more satisfying to get under the skin of what makes Ross tick.

This is something of a theme, notable with the likes of George Honeyman and Lee Cattermole being relatively camera shy. They were mainstays of the first series and one can assume that they were left a little cold with how they were portrayed, even though both came across as dedicated professionals. If their reluctance was because of blowback from their roles at the club, then Tom Flanagan also gives a grim glimpse into the darker side of professional football.

After a less than sterling defensive performance against Coventry, the centre-back reveals that he was verbally abused by a fan in Tesco, in an anecdote so 'Sunderland' that it might appear in a future dictionary.

The obvious impact that it has on Flanagan and his family should give pause for thought for every dickhead that thinks they can eschew basic decency on that basis that 'I pay my money every week'.

Similarly, his defensive partner Jack Baldwin talks about being left out of the following match before saying, troublingly: "If I was put back in and made another mistake, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

His wife Victoria elaborates on this depth of feeling, saying that she hadn't realised about the scourge of depression in football until she married a player.

Some people think that football is a matter of life and death - we can assure them that it is much less serious than that.

The pointlessness of it all

As the season nears the end, the crunch games that Sunderland face bring to mind a Homer Simpson quote: "What’s the point of going out? We’re just gonna wind up back here anyway."

The home match against Portsmouth provides a perfect encapsulation of Sunderland's season in the form of Flanagan - he heads the opener to great elation, only to concede and be involved in a brawl at the end of the match. Afterwards, an old woman is castigating the team: she says "they're not good enough" with the same conviction as if she's commenting on pyramid-shaped tea bags.

Cloning has its moral questions, but boosts attendances enormously

Well, on to the next game which - spoiler alert - is a drab 2-1 loss at Fleetwood. Cue scenes of fans emerging shouting 'bottling bastards' and 'sack the fucking manager'. On to to the playoffs!

The semi-final against Portsmouth is the latest in this never-ending cycle of football; a fixture that seems to happen with the same regularity as the Angelus, or Ireland-Georgia. The match is being played on the backdrop of some domestic strife, as Stewart Donald is under pressure to sell the club for the sake of his mental health. It is hard to disagree with her logic.

In the interests of time, Sunderland emerge victorious after going down to ten men at home, with a beautifully-struck shot from Chris Maguire giving them a 1-0 lead. At Fratton Park, they play out a 0-0 draw to bring them their particular Theatre of Screams, Wembley.

At the last as the first, Charlton await.

Wembley

Nathan Murphy would be proud.

"Grant them peace and joy this Sunday," says Father Mark's promotion prayer for the Black Cats. They're used to relying on big men - just ask Niall Quinn.

In the run-up, a lot is made of their opponents, Charlton, who beat them in the playoff in 1998. It becomes a question of whether you are a half-full or half-empty character; the perfect chance for revenge or the ultimate hoodoo.

One way or another, the circularity of the season will complete; Charlton were beaten in the last minute in a game that seems a thousand miles away, in more ways than one.

The game kicks off, and the most remarkable thing happens - Sunderland get a bit of luck. A passback from Charlton runs under the keeper's foot, and one of those trademark slow-motion montages actually works in their favour! 1-0. Not for long, as some pretty shocking defending from Sunderland lets Charlton equalise.

"I hate this squeaky bum-time, I want it to be over, and we've won," says one fan at half-time, who definitely saves game before big Football Manager games and restarts if they lose.

Sunderland start the second-half poorly, compounded by the lovely Luke O'Nien getting his bell rung in a clash of heads. People have been sent to the Tower of London for less. Because this is football, the clearly-concussed O'Nien plays on.

As the seconds tick down of the four minutes added time, a looping cross scythes its way into the Sunderland area and is bundled home to ensure Charlton victory.

We end as we began, with a last-minute winner between the two sides; Sunderland doomed by repeated history.

Heartbreaker.

As Methven sups a stiff Scotch, a fan wonders "Why is it never us celebrating?" It is a hard question to answer and a horrible one to ponder.

What is for sure is that the Sunderland fans that have been portrayed in this documentary are decent people that deserve a break, on and off the pitch.

Stewart Donald and Charlie Methven are on the more decent end of the owners' scale, grappling with years of stagnation and demise.

"I'm sure we'll get there. but it doesn't feel like that now," says Donald.

I hope they do.

When life and advertising collide.

Part one of our series of reviews is here.

Part two is here.

Part three, predictably, is here.

Part four - you guessed it.

Part five here.

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