David Preece: Confirmation that Stewart Donald is looking to sell the club came as little surprise

Wherever in the world I had been born, the dark cloud would have found me somehow. Of that I have no doubt.

We just seem to go hand in hand. This time of year always fills me with melancholy, forever looking back at what might have beens instead of celebrating the good and looking forward to the coming year with zeal. It never is the way though.

I’ve lived a fortuitous life in most respects. If I didn’t have to worry about the streak of self-sabotage that runs through me, I’d have even less to complain about. I’ve been given enough chances in life to reasonably think that I was never good enough to take them or I have just plain blown them.

All sounds very Sunderland, doesn’t it?

So many mistakes made, just as many opportunities spurned. Just like a striker who scuffs shot after shot past the post, we’ve suffered the same fate and dropped down through the levels to one that befits us.

This week’s confirmation that Stewart Donald is looking to sell the club is news that came as little surprise.

In theory, it changes absolutely nothing, but what it did confirm to us was that this was no long-term project for him. Buy a League One club on the cheap with funds puffed out mostly by parachute payments, achieve immediate promotion back to the Championship and then hand his majority over for a personal profit.

He did it at Eastleigh, surely success could be that easy here too? Running Sunderland is on another different stratosphere to Eastleigh and the reality was a far more difficult task than the plan that was hatched though.

The plan came off its wheels in that play-off defeat to Charlton and the recovery has been blind panic. A manager sacked, a failed takeover and a social media campaign for his head have led us to Plan F. I’ll let you decide what the F stands for.

On that #DonaldOut campaign, I have to say that did take me by surprise. For those of us who remember the “Murray Out” protests at Roker Park in the early 90s, this was the 21st century equivalent but probably more damning.

After a defeat that becomes the back-breaking straw, vocal protests can be an instinctive response built on emotion. This wasn’t that. The co-ordinated nature and size of it required a response. In fairness to the players and the manager, they gave theirs at Doncaster on Sunday. The one they got from the chairman, it seems, was of surrender.

When the tide of opinion turns against you, it’s only men of stubborn substance and resilience who stay and carry the fight. You might say it’s better to cut your losses from a war you’ll never win, even more so if it was one you were never capable of in the first place. But the feeling of being hoodwinked lingers still.

Promises and feigned commitment beyond anything fiscal all proven by a quick withdrawal; worse than a bad one-night stand. Unhooking a bra with one hand, dialling a taxi with the other.

In the brief time I worked with advertising agencies, it became clear to me that the very best don’t overcomplicate things. There’s no jargon, no too-clever-for-their-own-good spiel, no bull. The best just cut straight through it all, they don’t have to sell their work because its quality sells itself.

Whenever I hear an overelaborate sales pitch, I don’t hear promotion of the product, I’m wondering which deficiencies the product has they’re trying top hide. “Too much show, not enough dough.”

We’d been in such an awful relationship with our last partner, we were happy to fall for the next one that came along speaking to our emotions, when what we really needed was to think with our head.

This time of year is never a great time for a break-up, but the timing really couldn’t be any worse. An owner selling won’t be investing in players, and takeovers don’t happen overnight.

Happy New Year, everyone.