Netflix's Sunderland Til I Die is a tale of a region's unrelenting love for its city - it deserved the happy ending

The third season of Sunderland 'Til I Die is testament to the true character of a region and a community bonded together by 11 men in red and white. We deserved that happy ending, writes Graham Falk.

Sunderland 'Til I Die season 3 is out now on Netflix. Cr. Netflix

Back to back relegations. Last minute defeats at Wembley. Broken PA systems. Jack Rodwell. "We saw you crying on Netflix".

From the age of 4, I've been Sunderland daft. I didn't come from a rich family. My parents and grandparents were all from various council estates and it wasn't that unusual for us to go to bed early because the emergency credit on the electric key had ran out in mid-December and the house was too dark to do anything but sleep. Pretty grim looking back, but true all the same. It seems odd that despite challenges like that, it was the outcome of Sunderland's result on a weekend that determined our mood for the week to follow. Things have changed quite a bit for me. I'm a little more comfortable financially, Scotland has now been my home for more than a decade and those I used to sit on the shoulders of at Roker Park (and, latterly, the Stadium Of Light) have sadly passed - some of them far too early. But I'm still Sunderland, my family is too. I've long left the city but still have my season ticket, still venture south bi-weekly to watch them, still let their result effect my weekly mood. Quite why I've devoted my life to 11 men in red and white stripes is anybody's guess but my story definitely isn't unique. They'll be plenty who identify I'm sure. The names may be different, the memories slightly altered, but our childhoods and family history will come with that understanding that a little white sphere smashing into a net brought those you loved and held closest together in a way few things could.

'It's who we are'

Being a Sunderland fan, the path to salvation has never and will never be smooth. I'm not sure it is meant to be. But to have it all documented on the world's largest streaming service is another thing altogether. Many outsiders associate the phrase 'Sunderland 'Til I Die' with the title of a Netflix documentary. Where I'm from, it's a way of life, a saying that gets you through the bad times, the terrible times and, just sometimes, the good. We're here regardless, it's who we are and all we know.

In recent years though, to the watching world, Sunderland AFC has been that club collects mercenary players and has a former director-turned-Netflix star who seemed more at home as a character from The Office. A man I was 'lucky' enough to encounter as part of an anxiety inducing four minute segment in season two of the show. While these people may have offered golden TV moments, let me tell you, they couldn't understand the city of Sunderland and its people, let alone the phrase Sunderland 'Til I Die, if it smacked them square like a Kevin Phillips piledriver in the late 90s.

Those first two seasons were almost too tough to watch at times. Has it been thrown in our face at every away ground in the country? Yep. Football is tribal at the best of times and the likes of Charlie Methven and Jack Rodwell offered opposition fans a free pass to point and laugh. It damaged pride, but in some ways, I can't blame them.

It was one thing to watch it but a completely different experience if you lived it. Getting up at 5am to travel to Gillingham to see us lose in the 90th minute only to be told we should accept it, that we have to be “realistic” and that we didn't really "deserve promotion" by one of the club's owners really can take its toll on you. It wasn't so much the lowly level we were playing at, it was the constant lurch from one disaster to another while we navigated it. Like some slow creeping death, football's Grim Reaper seemed to take a four year holiday on the banks of the river Wear. We thought he'd never leave.

The disasters were TV gold to many. We knew it, you know it. But underneath each disaster shown across the series, it still managed to showcase was how the club will always be about those who truly understand it, no matter what happens on the field. The fans, those select few players and managers who may have been born outside of the region but become adopted by it.

'One day, it might just be us'

Without spoiling it too much. We escaped. We had our day in the sun, the bad guys left and the good guys prevailed at the home of English football. There may have been 50k+ Sunderland fans at Wembley that day but what the end of Sunderland 'Til I Die truly captures if how that win was for far more than just those in attendance. For me, it was for my Grandad who's coffin was draped in red and white flowers, for my Auntie who passed aged just 45 and asked me why I wasn't at the game as I sat by her on her deathbed. Hell, it was for me who wondered if I'd make it after having an operation for breast cancer just two weeks before. And for the countless other Sunderland fans who have their own tale of hurt and damaged pride, it was for you and your own story.

As the end of series three so wonderfully shows, loving your football club is more than just the sport itself. The memories you share, the tears you shed and the endless hope that one day, 'it might just be us'. In 100 years plus history, getting promoted via the play offs from our lowest position in history will never be our crowning glory - our unashamed, unrelenting love for our club, our people and Wearside is.

"We saw you crying on Netflix" they sang. You did, but this time it was with tears of joy, not sadness, and I'm so pleased those at Netflix saw it fit to end the series they way they did by encapsulating what my football club truly represents to its people. Season three of Sunderland 'Til I Die is a triumph. Sure, it's just a game, just 22 people kicking a ball around on a football pitch but is also about the strength of community, family, pulling together, unity.

It's Sunderland 'Til we die - and proud.