Vítor Pereira had promised Nottingham Forest would approach this assignment with a “Champions League mentality” and his players did not disappoint him.

A fabulous attacking performance not merely succeeded in ruining Sunderland’s lingering European ambitions but also lifted 16th-placed Forest to 39 points. That is within touching distance of safety and given Pereira’s team are now six points clear of West Ham and eight in front of Tottenham, the struggle to avoid the final remaining relegation place is surely between the two London clubs now.

Hats off to Forest’s fourth manager of the season for having the bravery to field two central strikers and to, among others, the excellent, Morgan Gibbs-White, Igor Jesus and Chris Wood for making it work so effectively.

It did not take long for Forest to hurt Sunderland. The game had barely begun before Ibrahim Sangaré, albeit accidentally, trod on the hand of the prone Noah Sadiki and the midfielder’s wrist needed to be strapped in the most enormous bandage.

It was perhaps symbolic of things to come as further, and considerable, pain was to follow for Sadiki and friends. In the 17th minute Omari Hutchinson played a short corner before crossing to the far post where Igor Jesus’s header was inadvertently helped on beyond Robin Roefs by a deflection off the back of Trai Hume’s head.

Pereira’s decision to field two strikers in an attacking 4-4-2 formation seemed to be paying off. Forest had arrived unbeaten in their previous five Premier League games but their manager was not satisfied and duly scrapped his sole striker system as he endeavoured to turn draws into victories. “We are in a moment when we need to win,” said Forest’s manager. “I decided we need more than one striker.”

Although Sunderland saw quite a bit of the ball and might have taken an early lead had Chris Rigg not shot weakly at Matz Sels when clean through, Forest created the majority of the chances and Roefs did well to keep an early Hutchinson shot out.

Unfortunately Sunderland’s goalkeeper subsequently suffered an uncharacteristic brain melt and passed straight to Wood. It prompted a deft one two between the centre-forward and Gibbs-White before Wood lured Roefs off his line and scored his first Premier League goal since August low into the empty net.

It swiftly returned there when Igor Jesus headed Neco Williams’s splendid cross, following another short corner, down at the back post and Gibbs-White lashed the ball low into the bottom corner. If, as seems highly likely, Forest stay up, Gibbs-White will have played an integral role. A creator with 13 league goals to his name this season, he has scored 10 of them in 2026 and surely has a strong case for inclusion in England’s World Cup squad.

At kick-off only Arsenal and Manchester City had conceded fewer Premier League goals at home than Sunderland but as Igor Jesus scored Forest’s fourth before half-time that parsimonious record was in tatters.

This time the goal came from a gorgeous cushioned volley after Ola Aina’s deflected shot dropped invitingly for Igor Jesus. As Forest’s staff emerged from the dugout to literally jump for joy, it looked as if thousands of Sunderland fans were streaming towards the exits.

As he headed towards the tunnel at half-time Nordi Mukiele, Sunderland’s passionate right-back, seemed to be arguing with a few of those supporters. Once the home team emerged early for the second half, a similar sort of debate took place on the pitch between his teammates.

Sunderland thought they had reduced the deficit when Mukiele flicked on Granit Xhaka’s free-kick and, despite getting a hand to Dan Ballard’s diving header, Sels could not keep it out. After a five-minute review by the video assistant referee though, the referee Darren England was summoned to his pitchside monitor and the “goal” was duly disallowed for an accidental foul on Sels from Mukiele as he strove to control Xhaka’s delivery.

By now Forest had all but abandoned the idea of entering Sunderland’s box and failed to unleash any shots on target during a second period full of robust visiting defending – and several yellow cards – as Sunderland tried to restore dented pride.

At times even the hitherto deeply unimpressed looking Régis Le Bris applauded Xhaka, Enzo Le Fée and company as they constantly demanded the ball and attempted, albeit forlornly to pull off the most unlikely of comebacks. Although Le Fée’s late shot forced Sels into a splendid flying save nothing could blemish a wonderful evening for Forest, who secured a fifth goal through Elliot Anderson in the 95th minute, quite possibly prompting sleepless nights in north and east London.

Don King is singing the praises of his new signing. The boxing impresario, played by Zach Levene with an extravagant bouffant, sees something special in John Conteh, the light-heavyweight champion. It is a talent that goes beyond the ring. “He walks into a room and the air changes,” he says.

Impressively, this is a quality captured by Aron Julius. Playing the Kirkby kid who became WBC light-heavyweight champion in 1974, he is muscular, light-footed and graceful. More than that, he sparkles. With a needling Liverpool wit, he is as cheeky as he is charming. Who wouldn’t want him to win?

The best sequences in this bio-drama, written by Julius himself, are when Conteh is alone on stage giving a punch-by-punch account of his bouts, from the outsider success against Chris Finnegan at Wembley to the narrow 1980 defeat against Matthew Saad Muhammad in Atlantic City.

Only one man knows what those fights felt like and Julius captures a sense of the solitary sportsman holding his focus in the midst of public acclaim. He writes those scenes in crisp poetry and performs them, under the eye of fight director Rebecca Wilson, with vivid, bruising detail.

Dramatically, it is constrained by the facts of the rise-and-fall story, but as sporting bio-dramas go, Conteh punches higher than most thanks to the tensions in the boxer’s private life. His oft-repeated belief that “fights are won and lost on the training ground” is put to the test as his brother Tony (Levene again) tempts him to boozy three-day benders and Don King seduces him with a life of celebrity.

His manager George Francis (an agile Mark Moraghan) barks him back into line, bolstered by George’s wife Joan (a no-nonsense Helen Carter). In what could have been a male-dominated drama, Conteh’s wife Veronica (a defiant Amber Blease) makes feminist protests about being treated as an afterthought.

It is pacily staged by Mark Womack on a set by Zoe Murdoch in which the ropes of a boxing ring double as barriers and fences, while sound designer Kate Harvey slips in a soundtrack of cool 70s funk. The play fizzles out into therapy-speak as the boxer confronts his alcoholism, but with the ever-dapper Conteh himself joining the first-night curtain call, it goes the distance.

Since then, an unremittingly, relentlessly, incessantly grim story, if you think of it from the perspective of the Labour Party, has been squatting on the news agenda, expelling the potential for anything they would rather be talking about getting any attention.