Regis Le Bris’ shape-shifting, Mike Bassett & a statement win over Sheffield United - inside Sunderland's week

By just about any metric, parallels between Regis Le Bris and fictitious England manager Mike Bassett are scarce. It is not easy, for instance, to envisage the Sunderland head coach delivering the kind of expletive-laden, spittle-spraying dressing room rollicking that inspired Bassett’s Three Lions to a 4-0 group stage defeat at the hands of Mexico, or to imagine him tap dancing half-cut in his underwear across the top of a hotel bar after two pints of lager and a couple of flaming sambucas.

Likewise, it is hard to visualise the Frenchman sporting his made-up counterpart’s stubborn, bristling moustache, like some Stars in the Eyes heat also-ran portraying a shaky Freddie Mercury, or to picture him putting his faith in the “Christmas pudding” formation any time soon, with Dan Neil presumably operating in the sixpence role. And yet, at some point over the past week or so - in that deliberate, cerebral way of his - Le Bris evidently walked into a team meeting at the Academy of Light and paraphrased that most iconic of Bassett soundbites: “Sunderland will be playing 4-4-f******-2”.

Large swathes of Wednesday night’s statement win over Sheffield United felt more like a judo match than a game of football; the Black Cats trying to lure and coax the Blades into over-committing, waiting coiled and cunning to pounce, to use the visitors’ own weight against them and send them crashing shoulder-first into the mat. It happened frequently enough to suggest that Le Bris had meticulously planned the entire ruse, and on the occasions that the balance tipped precariously in their favour, Sunderland were particularly devastating because they had two proper strikers, poised like greyhounds in their traps, twitching in anticipation at the top end of the pitch.

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The last person to endure as much concentrated criticism as Eliezer Mayenda in a single festive period was Ebeneezer Scrooge. Thankfully, the Spaniard’s ordeal was limited to just the two hauntings, rather than the customary three. Inexplicable misses against Blackburn Rovers and Stoke City drew ire and concern in equal measure from some quarters of the fanbase, but to the teenager’s credit he has not shirked the pressure of his duties or the accountability that comes with them, and as he streaked away from his defender on New Year’s Day - fissure of expectation opening at his heels like that stadium scene from The Dark Knight Rises - the composure he oozed to slot home a third goal of the season proved what many of the believers have been trumpeting for some time; there is a real player in there.

By the final whistle, Mayenda - along with his opening strike - had created more chances than any other player on the pitch, taken more shots, had more shots on target, registered more touches in the opposition box, and laid on an assist. May the praise be as loud as the disrespect.

Alongside him, Thierry Henry - sorry, Wilson Isidor - looks back to his mischief-wreaking best, giving centre-backs comically-exaggerated head starts before reeling them in like a drag racer chasing down a mobility scooter and generally finding bottom corners with all the aplomb of a world champion jigsaw puzzler. Between the pair of them, the bubbly attacker and his teenage sidekick dulled the Blades and left their sensibilities spinning - each scoring a goal, each looking pleasingly potent every time Le Bris’ men snaffled up possession and set off at a gallop down the other end.

There were other promising details too, and not least the continued rehabilitation of Adil Aouchiche’s once-tattered reputation. Who knew that “redemption arc” could be spelled with a double A? With Aji Alese deputising for Dennis Cirkin at full-back, the initials of Sunderland’s left flank against Sheffield United read like a packet of batteries. Certainly, Aouchiche did a decent enough impression of a bearded Duracell bunny - even in a position that, just a few short weeks ago, felt beyond his natural skill set. He was not alone either; when Le Bris brought on Leo Hjelde to replace Aouchiche out on the wing I rubbed my eyes so hard they nearly went through the back of my skull.

All of this is to say that Sunderland are adapting and adjusting. Changes in formation, changes to personnel, changes in fortune; they are absorbing and utilising them all to keep this improbable promotion push - held together by scotch tape and wads of chewing gum and the beautiful mind of a softly-spoken Frenchman - stumbling forward.

And with every passing mutation to the head coach’s original blueprint, they seem to unlock a new attachment for their Le Bris Army Knife. No Chris Rigg, Romaine Mundle, Tommy Watson, or Alan Browne against a genuine title challenger? Yeah, no bother, just stick two up top and see what happens. Fewer viable left wing options than a phoney presidential election in a sponsored military dictatorship? Just blow the cobwebs off that ostracised central midfielder we’ve got kicking around down the back of the sofa and crack on with it.

You see, if Sunderland are going to go the distance in this charge towards the Premier League, it is not always going to be pretty or particularly auspicious. They are going to have to traipse through the doldrums from time to time and find solutions to unwelcome conundrums on the fly. When all is said and done, even that might not be enough to get them to where they want to be come the end of the campaign. But for now, they are hanging on in there, just about matching those around them stride for uneven stride. And with that in mind, what else can you say but more power to them: Regis Le Bris’ shape-shifting, amateur escapologist, cockroach-in-an-apocalypse Mackems.