Monday, August 31, 2009

Paging Michal Mansfield QC


Worryingly ordinary was the phrase I used in an e-mail, and I’ll stick by it again. Only in so far as it describes United’s current form though, this game itself was anything but ordinary. According to Mr Wenger, United were guilty of playing ‘anti-football’, in other words, unlike their other opponents so far this season, we had the temerity to close them down with vigour and pace rather than stand back and admire the beautiful geometry of their passing. How very unsporting.
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Yes, Darren Fletcher may have been a tad over-exuberant as he clattered into Arshavin, but few objective spectators, can disagree with the fact that Fletcher was once again outstanding and, alongside Rooney, Vidic and Evra, has become one of the few guaranteed starters in the squad.
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Similarly, few objective spectators would find it hard to disagree that United were mightily fortunate to emerge from this game with all three points. At times, one would have felt more than generous. It’s a definite worry. Last time we met Arsenal, we did to them what Barcelona did to us in Rome – utterly annihilated them. Now look at us. A pair of patchy wingers on the flanks, Carrick’s confidence having one of its periodic wobbles, and Giggsy being called on to supply all guile and invention. And the £80 million still sits in the bank. Yeah, right.
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In recent months, the press have reported a thaw in the Fergie/Wenger enmity, but clearly substantial numbers of reds in the ground haven’t studied the memo regarding this. So, inevitably, the embarrassing paedo ditties did the rounds, tarnishing the pleasure we could all take in Wenger mounting the platform above the dug-out.
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It was another dismal day for the United fans. Not content with goading Wenger with school-boy stuff, primed by the media, far too many obligingly booed Eduardo. Why? Have we decided we’re twinned with Celtic again? As United fans do we abhor anything that taints the purity of the beautiful game (apart from calling managers paedophiles of course)? Or, has the buffoon count taken another leap as the hard-core fall away on the back of another price-rise?
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Still, shouldn’t moan. We won, Arsene gave us the weeks second funniest footballing moment – the first being the tubby idiot gambolling across Upton Park giving Millwall players wanker signs – and they played Ian Brown’s new single at half-time again. City’s winning streak – and the aesthetic splendour of their away shirt - can’t spoil any of that.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Crisis? What crisis? Part 129


The problem with doing something like a blog is that by preserving your thoughts you are constantly being reminded of how idiotic many, let's face it most, of your opinions actually are. I'm always mentally urgiing caution, counselling against venting spleen in the immediate aftermath of a defeat. Then i log on, split open the spleen and let the vitriol pour out.
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I could cover my tracks of course; some judicious use of the 'edit-post' facility could, for example, make my intemperate words from last week questioning Wayne Rooney's reputation, evaporate in an instant. But this seems like an act of bad faith; better to let the words stand - constantly stoking the flames of embarrasment in my face, as a reminder for the next time i think of writing something so patently ridiculous.
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So the ghost of Turf Moor is exorcised for now and suddenly all is rosy in the red garden again, right? Not quite. Valencia may finally have put in a pin-point cross, but this particular one-man jury is still deliberating about his overall quality. The whole result has to be seen in context - flimsy opponents with a softer-centre than a Cadbury's Eclair.
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Good to see Darren Fletcher getting props in the press though. And some mention must be made of the fact that Owen finished with no little aplomb. Shame he felt the need to blank the press-pack and moan about them caning him. Maybe he'll have his people knock out a glossy pamphlet pointing out that he ain't finished yet.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Oh dear

Some thoughts and questions occasioned by last night’s particularly dismal showing at Turf Moor:
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1) Can we have the Anderson who got on the plane to Rome back please?
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2) Why does Rooney insist on undermining his reputation as a wonderful footballer by committing such ugly tackles when things aren’t going his way?
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3) Why is Rooney never linked with mega-money deals to Milan and Madrid? Is it because, whisper it, they’ve noticed that he’s not half the player he’s cracked up to be?
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4) For years people have been asking what will happen to United when Fergie finally retires. What if we’ve all been asking the wrong question? What if what we really should have been asking is, ‘What will happen to United when Ryan Giggs retires?’? Right now, he appears to be the only thing separating us from all-consuming mediocrity.
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5) Is Owen really as bad as he looks?
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6) We always start badly don’t we? Right? Right?

Monday, August 17, 2009

Starting point


There was a point towards the end of last season – before the Liverpool/Fulham wobble obviously - as United breezed past opponents and a bench stuffed full of precocious talent chomped eagerly at the bit waiting to join in, that I didn’t just think last season’s title was in the bag, but this season’s as well. And probably the one after. In fact I could see a glittering line of trophies all the way from Old Trafford to the crack of doom. So why now does it seem to peter out before it’s even made it to the temple of doom? Is the gaping void left by Ronaldo really that huge?
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One of the stock cliché’s of pre-season has been that United have replaced big-names before. Players come, players go; that’s football. We were here before Ronnie and we didn’t seem to have much bother winning baubles then; it’ll be no different after he’s gone. All fair points of course. But there is one difference. Never before have we sold the current World Player of the Year. Aside from all the petulance and the pouting, he was simply a sensational footballer. Just think back to Highbury last season and the aura of brilliance that surrounded United that night.
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And of course you could argue that he was just as complicit in Rome on the night that aura was thoroughly demolished by Barcelona. But his positives are far in excess of his negatives. Which isn’t to say selling him wasn’t the correct thing to do; it was clearly right for all concerned. So we move on without him, but it’s where we’re moving to that troubles me.
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As obvious as Ronnie’s talent, is the fact that anyone is going to suffer by comparison. Ferguson could have stumped up the exorbitant amount that Bayern want for Ribery – or he could if the Glazer’s hadn’t trousered the Ronnie windfall - but you can guarantee that his first duff cross would herald an outbreak of mutterings about him not being up to Ronaldo’s standard. Much in the way the first dropped point under Fergie’s eventual successor will lead to an intensification of the question of whether he’s the right man for the job. But that’s another post for another day.
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What worried me yesterday, apart from the sudden plague that’s wiped out the defence – and let’s face up to the fact we won’t see much of Rio this season and when we do he’ll have an eye on South Africa and the brand-building potential it entails – was just how blindingly ordinary we looked. Valencia might have the power and the pace, but poise looked in short supply. How many times did he get into or near the box and not have a clue what to do with the ball? But he’ll get better. Hopefully.
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Positives? Fletcher was outstanding; busy as ever, breaking up play, bombing forward when necessary, shame he didn’t crown the move of the match with a goal. Rooney was as ace as ever, and Ryan simply defies the ageing process and gets more freakishly brilliant every season. And Foster, after the wobbles at Wembley, went some way to redeeming himself and proving that Ferguson isn’t winding everyone up about him being the best English keeper at present.
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And that is that.