Sunderland: the terraces are a refuge against the uncertainties of Brexit | News from the United Kingdom

Andrew Cammiss rose at four o'clock yesterday morning for a 250-mile trip to Oxford for a third-division football match. "I took my boy Niall, who bears the name of my favorite player," he reveals. With other legends of the club, Peter Reid and Kevin Phillips, an image of Niall Quinn is inked on the body of the superfan, 39 years old. "It makes me forget things. Tattoos show my love for guys. "

By "things" he hears the last kick in the teeth of his hometown. Nissan has abandoned the X-Trail sport utility vehicle manufacturing projects. Despite the badurances that the cancellation does not jeopardize the plant, which employs about 7,000 people, Cammiss fears the worst. "I have a cousin and an uncle working there. Everyone knows someone who works there. If Nissan goes away, we'll be defeated for a while, but we'll get used to it. There is always football. "

Father Marc Lyden-Smith does not share this blind faith. Like Cammiss, he was an unlikely star in Netflix's documentary Sunderland Til I Die, an on-the-fly portrait of the fall of last season in memory, or League One, as it is more commonly known. In the opening episode, the local priest began his sermon with the incantation: "Dear Lord, help Sunderland because the success of our team contributes to the success and prosperity of our city."

This season, there was a mini-revival, with new owners – rather than a divine intervention – inspiring a push for promotion. But the dysfunction exposed in the documentary continues to undermine a city marked by austerity both sporting and economic. Thatcherism oversaw the destruction of mines and shipyards in the 1980s. According to a government report, a hard Brexit would result in a 16% economic decline in the region. The fallout from Nissan's cancellation may prove to be the last nail in the coffin.

"The very culture of this city is that we make things – that's why we are Mackems," says Lyden-Smith at a café near the subway station. "It's the identity of the city. It has been eroded by the closure of shipyards and pits. The anxiety and worry about what's happening at Nissan is tangible. If this continues, what else do we do? Some business leaders are considering new developments, but who is the biggest employer in the last 10 years? This is the football club, which has experienced relegation and consecutive dismissals. "

It was the intense connection between City and Club that prompted Fulwell 73 producer Leo Pearlman and two other Sunderland fans to create the Netflix series. It is a love letter addressed to a kneeling city, a heartbreaking and rich narrative that explains the central role that the people's game still plays in an abandoned and deindustrialized region. "This is the last thing we have," says Pearlman. "The Nissan thing is like a new blow to the city. This is terrible news.

If there is hope, it is in the fans. Despite the club's rapid free fall, paralyzing debt and insufficient investment, growing child poverty and declining public services, the average number of spectators at the Stadium of Light is over 30,000 On Boxing Day, a new League One record was set: about 46,000 people came to watch the team beat Bradford City; only Manchester United and Liverpool attracted more fans.

Taxi driver Peter Farrer said that football has always been an escape from economic difficulties. Pbading the monument to the ground Davy Lamp, a tribute to the colliery he replaced, he says that this sport was "caught off guard by the worker." But Sunderland is the exception. There would be no club without the fans. it would be useless.

Farrer has become a local hero since his appearance in the documentary, but "I'm not too crazy, nor myself. People recognize us in the street. I did not have anyone slag us. Just support. We are all fanatics. We can not help ourselves. We have never lost the hard core supporters. You just cannae give up. If Hitler invaded Poland on Tuesday, I would still be at the game in Blackpool. "

As we move past the world-renowned automaker, housed in a giant industrial complex right next to the A19, it suddenly confesses to being a remnant. Sunderland is known as the Brexit City, with 61% of the votes. "I had a crush on Brexit, but I know the local economy depends on Nissan," he said. "These were football pitches, but we hope they will now serve to bring the supply chain closer together. That's if Nissan does not go there. Nobody knows for sure. "

One kilometer away, in a village pub, a former Nissan employee – Steven France – is waiting for me. He is also a former footballer. After playing for a Sunday League team, he played for Barbados against Cuba in the 2002 World Cup playoffs. Today, he is a community leader.

"Nissan will not necessarily close tomorrow," said France, "but it will be in 10 or 15. Jacob Rees Mogg's favorite economist, Patrick Minford, said the auto industry should disappear if Britain leaving the EU, I have to explain this to my community, people are working with blood, sweat and tears in this factory.

"Of course, the club brings people together. It's the last big community. But how is it going to feed people? How will the club take the 16% of GDP affected in the city? "

Anthony Clavane is a sports writer and author of Promised Land and Moving the Goalposts.