Countdown to Squeaky Bum Time
The eyes are still a bit red, but at least they’ve stopped streaming now. Not that this had anything to do with the over-zealous methods of the Lens gendarmes, it was purely the result of dismay at Barcelona’s feeble capitulation to the Scousers. As the Guardian pointed out yesterday, some responsibility must lie with the layer of flab settling around Ronaldhino’s midriff, and on the evidence of Wednesday’s performance it looks like the only thing that could induce him to track-back is the promise of a tub of Ben and Jerry’s waiting for him in the box. Such behaviour is fine when the magic is flickering from his boots, but when it fails to ignit, it might be time to acknowledge that perhaps there is some logic to this regular training lark.So why, on a blog dedicated to United, indeed one that hasn’t been updated for a month, and in a week when United have been at the centre of controversy on and off the field, do I choose to break my silence by carping about Liverpool’s breathtaking/exhilarating (delete according to whichever fawning report you happen to be reading at the time) comeback in the Nou Camp?
The fact is, like no other team, Liverpool get under the skin, and with our visit to Anfield a mere seven days away, nervousness starts to set in. By next week a nine-point gulf should have opened up between us and Chelsea, and an appointment with Boro or West Brom in the next round of the Cup booked. Factor in that the visit of Lille should amount to little more than a formality – although one certain to be played out against a particularly rancorous atmosphere, and I’m already smacking my lips and breaking out the canisters of pepper spray in anticipation, and an air of serenity should settle over every United related thought. So why doesn’t it?
United’s performance in France was as bitty and disjointed as any we’ve witnessed this season. Yes, we finally succeeded in winning away in Europe, but the performance of certain players causes me to fret a bit. Scholes and Carrick were shadows of the midfield duo who have towered over the Premiership week in, week out, while Ronaldo was at his frustrating worst, an ineffective display topped off with a teenage strop when he was packed off to the bench. Saha, as he did against Reading a few days earlier, had one gilt-edged chance, and fluffed it.
Mitigating circumstances aren’t difficult to discern. The pitch was in a dire state, Ronnie was barged about from the word go, and the goings-on on the terraces must have inevitably proved a distraction. Yet in spite of this, I’m worried about the fact that, by universal consent, we had the easiest draw, and were made to look ordinary, while the Scousers had possibly the toughest (Lyon notwithstanding) and went and did the job.
My fear is that the current United team look invincible when pitted against mediocre opposition – for which we can read all but three teams in the Premiership, but look anything but invincible when matched by opponents with any combination of skill, nous and guts. Arsenal have beat us twice; we held Chelsea but we were clinging on towards the end; yes, we swatted Liverpool aside with minimum fuss at OT, but they appear a different outfit now, just as we were in the latter half of last season. Put bluntly, are we a team of Thierry Henry’s, fated to always go missing for the big occasions, then to strut about throwing big I-am shapes for the little ones? Have we got the stomach for the fight about to commence?
We’ll find out very soon.
posted by Royton Red @ 12:07 PM
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