Thank You Roy Keane...

These are intriguing times in football. In recent years we have seen a dramatic shift in the way football clubs are being run with the Premier League attracting the world’s top foreign coaches. There are even two Italians at the helm of Ireland (which is less shocking than Big Jack’s appointment actually), and England.

Mr. Walter Winterbottom must be gyrating in his grave.

There has also been Roy Keane’s abrupt end at Sunderland, who incidentally, are still embroiled in one of the most exciting relegation battles in PL history.

But for me, the most invigorating and most bizarre story in football at present is the rise of my beloved Stoke City who, after years of degradation, find themselves rubbing shoulders with English football’s elite once again.

And heck, they might even survive in this division.

When I moved to Ireland, I assumed I had relinquished any hope of watching my local team Stoke City on a regular basis. Gloomily I accepted I’d condemned myself to a life of listening to Stoke City on the radio via the internet.

Occasionally I might be lucky enough to watch the mighty Potters (in a third round FA Cup game versus Bolton or someone) from the back room of a deserted Irish pub, as I listlessly attempted to explain to a polite-but-obviously-uninterested fella, where exactly Stoke-on-Trent is (It's closer to Manchester than Birmingham), who indeed comes from there (the Captain of the Titanic actually), and how important the Potteries (supplying the world with vintage china and earthenware) used to be (Pre-Thatcher).

And this of course, would be on condition no Rugby or Gaelic matches—with any whiff of significance—were not on another channel, or in deed SUNDERLAND were not on Setanta.

It seemed I had incarcerated myself to a life of torment.

That was until Stoke made a shock but triumphant return to the Promised Land and prior to Keane’s demise up the raod at Sunderland.

Now I, along with my fellow long-suffering Stokies, are proudly watching our team each week on television (if we can't get to the match like myself), and our ardour seems to be emanating across the globe. It all seems so surreal.

And would you believe, since Keane’s resignation, the throngs of Irish Sunderland supporters are thinning out in Irish public houses faster than Roy Keane had poor old Niall Quinn reaching for the company chequebook. Fickle I know.

You see, Stoke are fastly becoming everyone’s favourite underdog and judging by the sheer noise level of our support this season, I am ecstatic to see Potter’s fires have been well and truly re-ignited.

Stoke for me are the new Sunderland FC, minus the Irish bandwagon that I hope will soon follow: those which mysteriously came out of the woodwork when Keane joined Sunderland, swearing blind they had followed the Black Cats since the days of Gabbiadini (classy goalscorer from '80s and early '90s) and the legend that was John Byrne (not so great goal-getter with 22 Caps for The Irish Republic).

You're currently logged into Facebook

Do you want to share your Bleacher Report activity on Facebook?