THE exorcism has been a long time coming, but maybe now the ghost of the Stadium of Light can be laid to rest.
I'd never been to Sunderland's new home until the end of season 1999-2000. I arrived to find the whole place in carnival mood.
The Black Cats were about to claim an impressive seventh-place finish in the Premiership. Kevin Phillips needed one goal to hit 30 for the season. And this fixture, against West Ham, was their last home game. We had operatic arias pre-match, fireworks as the teams came out and a packed house buzzing with excitement.
My role was to report the day's events for BBC Radio 5 Live. I can confess now that before the second half was many minutes old, my attention was far from the match unfolding in front of me. My headphones relayed a succession of scores from the foot of Division Three with the inexorable out-come. Gloom wrapped itself round me like a wet bin-liner. By the time Sunderland trooped off victorious, Phillips' 30th goal duly despatched, I felt as if I'd suffered a family bereavement. It was the day Chester were dumped out of the League, a day I never expected.
But funny things happen when the world turns against you. We've seen the most amazing resurrection in the four seasons since that fateful date. The turn-round in the club's fortunes has been nothing short of sensational. What we've also seen has been a renewal of commitment on the part of many supporters - fans who didn't wait for the good times to return on the pitch but got behind the team in their darkest hour.
I know that I wasn't alone in questioning where my own football loyalty would lead me in that miserable summer of 2000. Was it worth all the aggravation to carry on supporting my hometown team? Didn't it make sense to throw in my lot with one of those glitzy Premiership outfits? But no. Football loyalty can't be turned off like a water supply. It's as much as part of me as the blood pumping round my system. So the start of season 2000-01 saw me behind the goal at Nene Park for our first-ever Conference match, away to Rushden and Diamonds.
For that I have to trace my footballing journey back to the winter of 1962 when my honorary grandfather, a grand old man named Ed Cairns, took me to watch Chester reserves v Hyde United in the Cheshire League.
We played at Sealand Road then, of course, when the old stadium had a training pitch alongside. We could watch the youth team work out before the main game kicked off.
The reserves played in green shirts, the first team wore white with a blue pinstripe, and an eccentric moustachioed individual named Billy Large would emerge from the crowd to entertain us at half-time with a series of intrepid forward rolls.
I used to eye the smoky, musty windows of the pressbox and wonder what it was like inside, little suspecting that one day I would file my own reports and find out (not that savoury, truth to tell!)
I'm one of the lucky ones. I saw the Famous Five in their record goal-getting season 64-65. I was there when we beat Leeds 3-0 and won promotion in 74-75. And this season I've been able to juggle my reporting commitments to take in around 20 matches in this pulsating campaign.
Following Chester in 2003-04 has been an absolute joy. The chairman has been so committed to the club. The manager has played his hand superbly, strengthening the squad at exactly the right times and cultivating an unbelievably positive spirit.
If we let in a goal, we keep playing our football and score two at the other end. If we lose, we set off on another unbeaten run. And the players themselves have been exemplary.
All sorts of cameos come to mind: Kevin McIntyre's inspirational raiding down the left flank against Burton, Alex Smith's brilliance against Margate, Ben Davies running Halifax ragged at the Shay, Paul Carden trouble-shooting week in week out, Phil Bolland's late winner against Shrewsbury, all the sweeter because dozens of Shrewsbury fans had gained access to our part of the stand, and the way our fans simply took over - in the best possible manner - when we visited Leigh and Northwich.
And then there are the strikers. Daryl Clare and Darryn Stamp have played themselves into my personal gallery of Blues greats, up there with the hallowed names of Gary Talbot and Mick Metcalf, Eddie Loyden, Dai Draper, John James and Stuart Rimmer.
Stamp has made a huge personal contribution, but his role in setting up Clare for so many chances has been immeasurable. And Daryl himself? The goals tell only part of the tale. Only recently, against Aldershot, it was his refusal to give up a lost cause which won us an early corner, in turn yielding the opening goal for Phil Bolland.
He proved his mental strength by carrying on as penalty taker despite a couple of misses and swiftly returned to the Jonny Wilkinson standard of reliability. And match after match, his name appears on the score-sheet. Usually, it's a question of how often.
This is a squad which I'm proud to have representing my club. And if the chairman and manager can keep them together, it's a squad which I believe the Football League will be pleased to welcome home.
