BOB Murray resembled a vicar giving his Sunday morning sermon rather than a hard-nosed poker player as he spelt out the reasons behind his decision to bring Howard Wilkinson to Sunderland.

Leaning across what looked like a pulpit, Murray spoke in revered tones of his new manager and his eager young assistant.

Yet, instead of taking up a career as a man of the cloth, the Sunderland chairman might want to pull up a seat at the nearest roulette table. For in appointing Wilkinson and Steve Cotterill, Murray has taken the biggest gamble of his footballing life.

Plucking Peter Reid from the managerial wilderness with just seven matches remaining in the 1994-95 season was the safest bet imaginable compared with giving Wilkinson the opportunity to resurrect his career in the club game.

While not wishing to be too defeatist, ponder for a moment the consequences if the gamble does not come off.

What if Wilkinson, with an empty transfer war chest and forced to work with the squad that avoided relegation by just one place last season, fails to keep Sunderland up come next May?

What if Cotterill, who comes to Wearside armed with a glittering CV, sees his reputation tarnished by his association with the Black Cats' downfall? Then, what will become of Murray? Well, surely he would have to step down.

It is, of course, a scenario one does not wish to dwell on too long. There is so much pessimism among Sunderland fans this morning that dark thoughts of a return to the Nationwide League at this early stage in the season are best avoided.

But Murray, a softly-spoken man who plays his cards so close to his chest that he might have been born to make his living from blackjack, could scarcely have taken a bigger punt than he did in turning to Wilkinson.

Of course, Martin O'Neill would never have come to the Stadium of Light - despite the ridiculous rumour that has swept Wearside in recent days that he supported the club as a child and even has a Sunderland tattoo.

So, who was left? David O'Leary's caustic criticism of his Leeds United board precluded him from the reckoning.

And Mick McCarthy's lack of experience in club management helped to dissuade Murray and Co from making a serious move for the Republic of Ireland coach.

But appointing either of them seems less of a gamble than going for a double act who, admittedly, do have more coaching badges than Sunderland have pounds in the bank.

Reid's spending spree, a belated attempt to keep his erstwhile club at English football's top table, has left Wilkinson with a difficult legacy.

His experience of working to a tight budget - "On my first morning at Leeds, the club washing machine broke and the cleaning lady said it wouldn't be repaired this time," Wilkinson recalled with a smile yesterday - clearly appealed to the money-conscious Murray.

But along with an impressive CV, Wilkinson arrives on Wearside armed with more baggage than a footballer's wife on a two-week holiday to the Seychelles.

The despondency that descended upon the Stadium of Light when news broke of Wilkinson's appointment shows it will need more than a couple of morale-boosting victories to win over the doubters among the Sunderland faithful.

The fans all want Wilkinson to be successful - none more so than Murray, who has staked his entire reputation on taking a chance on a manager who will be 60 when his contract expires in 2005.

Murray may have spoken with enthusiasm about his new recruit yesterday, but even he must have been aware of the potential pitfalls.

His decision is the footballing version of a gambler staking all his chips on red on a roulette wheel.

Murray must now pray he has placed a winning bet.

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