That’s Why We’re Champions!

Holding a 1-0 victory away to City with 10 men; scoring a 92nd minute winner to take a justified 3 points. It’s not pretty, but these are the results of champions.

The stats against the Black Cats are thoroughly lopsided: 31 total shots, 8 shots on target, 10 corners to 1, and 72% possession. The game felt like once United scored, the damn would burst, and yet, once the game reached that odd tipping-point in the second half, when the defenders gain confidence and the attackers get an edgy, self-fulfilling frustration, the game-winner seemed like the goal-too-far. This became especially true after Ronaldo went off injured in the 68th minute and took our main width-threat, outside of Rafael, with him.

That’s why Vidic’s winner is so important.

When you look back at Premier League titles, certain games will stand out as critical, season-defining results – O’Shea nicking a result at Anfield immediately comes to mind. Last week against City and today against Sunderland stand out precisely because we persevered. We held defensive composure short-handed against City. We held our belief and prevailed against eleven-behind-the-ball-dumb-luck and ourselves, our own frustrations today.

When you look ahead at our schedule, it’s absolutely imperative that our point-gap doesn’t grow before heading to the FIFA Club World Cup. Regardless of games in-hand, larger point gaps do, I firmly believe, apply more psychological pressure on the club making up ground, especially if the chased don’t readily drop points.

Again, that’s why today mattered sooooo much.

Next up we look forward to the annually-entertaining trip to White Hart Lane, where 5-3 victories and away supporters chanting “You’ll never beat O’Shea!” (after Johnny tackled Spurs break-away attempt while filling in for the injured Van Der Sar during a 4-0 victory) spring to mind. Lovely, lovely memories indeed.

One final comment about watching today’s match at the usual haunt, The Local.

Several Liverpool supporters stayed around the bar after their less-than-convincing victory over Blackburn to watch United versus Sunderland. You always had the feeling the Scousers would head home, or another bar, immediately after United scored, knowing the inevitable result would go against their wishes. They stayed around however to full-time to jeer United at another TV within earshot of us, growing louder and louder as the game progressed. Needless to say that Vidic’s goal provided a double-benefit today: a cathartic-release and a sense of entitled schadenfreude.

Ah, the delight. Right back at you Merseysiders: Campiones! Campiones! Ole! Ole! Ole!

Word of the Day: Tight

Amongst the numerous definitions of "tight" on Dictionary.com, such as “closely constrained or constricted”; “affording little or no extra room; fittingly closely, especially too closely”, the obvious-choice today is “closely contested; a tight match” as in United 0 - Villa 0.

Maybe I could have chosen “wasteful” as the word, but “tight” best describes both the game and the United supporters’ tension yearning for a goal that wouldn’t come.

I don’t know why, but for some reason, the game’s flow caught me off-guard. Somewhere in my brain I suspected Villa might open up and attack United with full force, especially after last weekend’s comprehensive victory over Arsenal. There were hidden expectations for breathtaking back-and-forth action in the football compartment of my mind.

But in retrospect, Martin O’Neill’s disciplined, counter-attacking football shouldn’t surprise us, given the flashbacks from Nam he must relive when conjuring up tactics for United, especially after a 14-match loosing stretch. Give full credit to Villa for keeping shape and fully earning their point today.

Looking back now, there are two primary observations about this match for United moving forward.

First, United sorely miss Berbatov, as Rooney and Tevez lacked form and understanding today. Both players need to check their natural tendencies to always retreat for the ball and ensure that somebody pushes forward. Today, their temptation to come back too far, too often was exacerbated by inconsistent ball-winning and creativity from central midfield. United didn’t have a consistent presence pressing Villa’s center-halves today, which made defending everything else much easier.

Second, the Ferdinand-and-Vidic-wall returned from exodus this week. Hallelujah, brother! Both were brilliant - they didn’t have a single, solitary misstep the entire match against the speedy Young and Agbonlahor. It’s an absolute delight watching them make a demanding position look relatively easy. Hopefully, this trend continues.

Looking to next weekend now, let’s hope United saved the word “champions” for City, where Rooney takes his golden chance late and the away supporters get to sing “That’s why we’re champions!”

Ah, what a lovely vision indeed, and besides, no blue moons are forecast anyway. Here's to beating the Middle Eastlanders. Cheers!

Stoke Match: Viva Ronaldo

"Running down the wing" perhaps should be "Line up the set piece king, hear United sing 'Viva Ronaldo'". Oh the joy in a comfortable, dominating performance.

Granted, Stoke are brutal, which only confirms the fall from grace (top 4) for Wenger-worshipers. At our pub, each time Villa scored a group or United supporters ran down to the other TV screen and confirmed the Gooner-misery - an added benefit in a very easy Saturday morning stateside.

My only disappointment now is not having much time for commentary here. I'll simply do my job with echos of Viva Ronaldo playing in my mind for days to come. Can't wait for the Villa match. Cheers Ronnie! Congrats on 101.

Arsenal Match: Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Not even memories from Monty Python improve the mood here. What an utterly frustrating performance, and from blogging perspective, I’m peeved that the title “Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda” got used up last week because it’s more apt today. This one is so disappointing on so many levels – let me count the ways.

First, we won’t even worry about the missed opportunities, as they shouldn’t concern the truly discerning United fan the least right know – we know that this worm will turn, especially for Rooney when he relaxes after finally netting his 100th for the club.

Second, the midfield spine has gone missing. With our wide midfield so far up the pitch, it places a tremendous burden on the two central midfielders. Carrick, Fletcher, and Anderson haven’t been up to the challenge lately – not enough bite, shape, and composure in our half of the pitch. Too many times you saw midfielders backing off a dribbling Gunner. You must close them down, and if they get by, foul if absolutely necessary. Space came way too cheaply today, as you need to make Arsenal at least think you’ll pinch them from time to time.

Third, we witnessed more keystone cops from our back line, and now, Van Der Saar decided to get into the act, appearing nervous and tentative. Did anyone else wonder if he was Fulham in disguise today?! What a useless punch straight to the penalty spot. And, did anyone else feel a curse descend upon Rio after being tagged with “best in the world” by pundits? Arrrggggghhhh...

Last and most gut-wrenching, both United and Mr. Captain-extraordinaire must realize that Gary-the-Red can’t keep pace with top-half Premiership football, let alone critical Champions League matches. It’s bittersweet watching Rafael blossom into our future right-back while feeling that the Gary Neville testimonial may be coming all too soon - he's not the same player anymore by leaps and bounds.

Even with these frustrations and concerns this game could have easily been a draw, 3-2 or even 4-2. Our attaching football should strike fear into any club in the world, and on a given day, we can score in droves. And we can take solace from the reflection that we’ve got our away matches out of the way against Liverpool, Chelsea, and Arsenal. We relish the rematches at Old Trafford. We trust in SAF’s ability to take us on our customary run of form yet this campaign.

Remember: always look on the bright side of life.

Hull Match: Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

United throttle Hull by six or seven goals on a different day, but with the current form of both squads, a 4-3 result makes some strange sense. Give Hull full credit for playing their tails off and making things nervy, but it should never-ever come down to a one-goal margin.

This is getting repetitive and irritating: we feel the joy from tremendous attacking football mixed-in with troublesome defensive gaffes, and now, abject-poor tracking back during the final 20 minutes. This blog entry could easily been named “Tale of Two Halves, Part 3” (see the previous two posts). Frustration is setting in here.

Looking back a day later, I’m actually quite pleased that Hull came back. Fergie now has abundant ammo to galvanize and sharpen the lads’ concentration and defensive form. You can almost hear Fergie demanding, “You must shut-up shop AND take your chances, boys. We can’t afford these lapses. If you won’t track back, we’ll find someone else who can.” The Hull performance could “shock” us into a serious run in form here.

We’ll take the 3 points and sit in the delightful afterglow of Liverpool’s gut-retching defeat to Spurs. You can just feel a tight, three-team race – sorry Arsenal – to the finish this year. Should make for a wonderful ride.

West Ham Match: Tale of Two Halves, Part 2

What a tremendous display, albeit for 45 minutes.

Again, there’s good movement on and off the ball, with Ronaldo and Nani giving width and speed while striking fear into wide defenders. Tevez and Berbatov – oh, the sublime Berbatov – providing menace up the middle, overlapping, and occasionally swinging wide – a sheer joy to watch.

Again, there’s a let-down in the second half, albeit much less stark this time around.

You can definitely forgive United for letting up on the accelerator for this mid-week encounter, to some degree, but the two significant defensive gaffes – poor off-side trap that allows Boa Morte in alone on Kuszczak, for example – seem troubling. Mind you, the fact that any real defensive lapse seems out-of-character points to the solid partnership across the back-four for much of the past two plus seasons. But this season, these sudden and extreme miscues may become more costly, as you can begin to suspect that it will take 90+ points for the Premiership title. Obviously, we’ll see in the days ahead - these are still early days.

Instead of focusing on “possible” issues, I much prefer to play some of the games more delightful moments over and over again in my head… Tevez’ Gazza-like flick over a defender… Ronaldo and Anderson playfully interchanging back-heel moves… and yes, THAT move by Berbatov to set-up the second.

As Fergie said “I'm going to have to see it again to understand how he [Berbatov] did it," the United manager said. "You'd pay double the money to watch that - fantastic imagination, control and balance." [Daniel Taylor’s Berbatov dazzles for United to help Ronaldo strike back, The Guardian, October 30, 2008]

Thank God this Second Edition has a much happier ending and bea-u-ti-ful weather to match. Wonder what the weather will be like for the Hull match? I truly hate three-quells.

Everton Match Report: Tale of Two Halves

6:07 AM. Damn-it, I’m late.

Thankfully, Ms. Reilly, our fox terrier with a psychic connection to Rooney, as confirmed yet again this week, wakes me after over-sleeping kickoff. Apparently, our hound only wakes me annually for Rooney’s Return to Goodison, as she’d never wake me up for another Premiership match. Good dog, I’ve got an extra Milk Bone for you. Now, the coffee pot is on. Game selected on TiVo. Ah, I’m only a few minutes behind a real-time feed and can catch-up at half. Game on.

8:01 AM. Game over. United 1, Everton 1.

What a wasted opportunity. Now I’m wired, frustrated, and feel a certain aimlessness that comes from watching United loose or draw too early and alone in the morning. I don’t feel like doing anything now. Anything. Activities that’d normally seem appealing on a weekend morning, such as reading the paper, are somehow rendered pointless. My day has gone as gray as the fall weather.

Looking historically, you can’t feel hard-done by a draw away to Everton, but the first-half red-domination seemed ever-so-easy, an absolute delight to watch. Passes pinging around the pitch that created lovely scoring opportunities, constant singing from the United away-supporters and nothing beyond the predictable complaints for Alan Wiley’s refereeing from the Stanely Park blues. The Everton back line looking confused, their paper-thin confidence nearing rupture, and the only question that begged asking is “how many?” not if we will win.

What the hell happened?

My only explanation for this match is that some pagan priestess put a hex on the team defending the Gwladys Street End. That must be it. Every single United backline defender gaffed spectacularly in 45 minutes of play – well, maybe Evra’s clearance-header up the right-attacking-channel was in the first half, but the point’s still made. Well after the match, I’m still gob smacked by Rio’s criminally-slow back-pass pick-off by Yakubu, by Vidic out-jumped for a header-goal, and by Wes Brown getting picked clean on the outside edge after attempting a turn in no-man’s land. A different side on a different day sends us home without any points. Happily Everton’s attack hasn’t jelled yet this season. We’ll take the point and move on, thank you very little.

It’s not the best of times, nor the worst of times – simply the grayest for quite awhile.

Flying High in the Friendly Skys

Check out Rooo. Great picture.

Another lovely score line: Berbatov (29), Berbatov (51), and Rooney (76). The irresistible form continues...

Didn’t get the chance to watch the game live – the curse of being 6 hours behind GMT, eh-hm, "working" – and settled for the usual text updates on a match tracker. Can’t wait to see Rooney’s goal. No worries about going through to the next stage.

West Brom Match: Rooney's Sway

The score line says it all: Rooney (56), Ronaldo (69), Berbatov (71) and Nani (90). Everyone from SAF to United bloggers expected this form would come, especially after the free-flowing-football that intoxicated us against Blackburn and Rooney’s scintillating form for England. Now that it’s here, firstly, we give thanks to the football Gods, and secondly, given this blog is being written 30+ hours after the match, I’ll resist the temptation to analyze anything or add to the obvious platitudes for Rooney.

About the only original commentary to provide is a quick view into a few moments of United fandom smack-dab in the middle of North America.

First off, I must admit to taking the easy route this week, watching the game live off our dish with my United pal, Bill, and making no effort whatsoever to watch at The Local, an Irish pub that shows the Premier League in Minneapolis. (A Cliff Claven trivia fact: The Local’s patrons consume more Jamison Irish whiskey than any other pub on the planet. Yes, that’s right – the champion resides in Minnesota. Take that Galway, Dublin, and Donegal.)

Since Bill arrives primarily to watch football, our 12-year-old fox terrier, Ms. Reilly, immediately knows what’s about to transpire next: random, unexpected noise bursts. These celebrations literally scare the bejesus out of her fist-sized brain, and usually, she cuddles up to Bill at kickoff, as he’s less demonstrative than me. On Saturday, however, she gave us one dirty look, as if to say “Much howling imminent – I go away now” and trekked upstairs to avoid the inevitable.

Nil-nil at half: I suspect for both of us watching versus playing does add a nervy edge precisely because we can’t do a single, solitary thing about the outcome. Trips to the bathroom were made. We pace around our coffee table thinking silently to ourselves “we can’t possibly draw with the Baggies – can we?!” The second-half begins, and you know the rest: amazing, attacking football and goals. Ah – much, much better. Our nerves relieved, our Saturday saved, our club rules.

Soon after the game, alpha-female (my wife, Jill) returns home from yoga. Ms. Reilly hears the arrival of her true pack leader, races down the stairs, past the scary men, and greets her with extra joy and relief. Not long afterwards, sensing calmer times are upon us, Ms. Reilly wanders over to Bill for some well-deserved belly-scratching. About ten seconds into her new-found attention, I get this turn of the head and sheepish look from Ms. Reilly, as if she still wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t have another “ROOOO-NEEY!!!!!!” left in me. Ah, such is Rooney’s form – even a fox terrier an ocean away can feel its powerful sway.

Liverpool Match Report: "The Horror! The Horror!"

Today’s Conradesque trip up the Merseyside felt troubling for reasons well beyond the immediate task at hand and result. Worries arise from unwanted consequences that will linger: Liverpool’s cathartic release and subsequent confidence boost, Carrick’s injury, and Vidic’s impending one-match suspension against Chelsea.

And it all started off with so much grace and ease.

Berbatov looked brilliant early, setting up Tevez’ 3rd-minute strike and giving the hosts a here-we-go-again sense of dread. The supposed 4-3-3 formation appeared at times more like the 4-3-2-1 Christmas tree of old, except it worked fabulously. Tevez, Rooney, and the midfield three – Carrick, Scholes, Anderson – all appeared buoyed by their new duties, with passes pinging around the pitch and Berbatov looked every bit the head of the spear. My God, what will this team look like when Ronaldo returns next week?! Confidence and expectations rise.

Ah, but these were the early minutes.

Soon thereafter you could sense a drop in Red Devil concentration with each miscue. Liverpool then played with width and whipped in a few dangerous-looking crosses, as Kuyt all-too-predictably hit a point-blank chance directly into Van Der Sar. Nothing too alarming with a Torres-less front line. Confidence remained high.

The game took a serious twist in the 26th minute, when a deflected shot caught everyone off-balance and Van Der Sar’s subsequent punch rebounded straight off Wes Brown's leg for a heartbreaking own-goal leveler. “Maybe, just maybe, this is our day after all” were the collective thoughts running through Anfield. Momentum swung fast.

I’m not certain a well-worked goal would have merited the same impact and weight, given the insecurity complex around Benitez’s side. Something unexpected, something fortuitous needed to occur to signal the jinx’s end. They got their bit of luck and flashbacks to the past – Mascherano’s red card, O’Shea’s late-goal-thievery – seemed to disappear. Liverpool was free.

For the rest of the match, Liverpool closed-down, outhustled, and outplayed our beloved Red Devils. We cannot feel hard done by the result, and in the end, we understand newly that you can indeed score too early in a match, especially if its one up on Merseyside.

Ah, Mistah Jinx, he dead.

Sidebar: England! England! England!

Okay, I am well aware that this is a United site but who, if not I, can break the unwritten rules? I just have to translate a bit of my excitement over the 4-1 England rollicking of Croatia today. Theo Walcott was absolutely brilliant. He started off the match looking like a puppy that hadn't quite found it's legs but, boy, did he deliver when it counted. His first goal was built from Rio Ferdinand playing far into Croatia's half, feeding it to Rooney, who then feed it into the box. A lucky deflection off of a Croatian defender sent the ball to Walcott's feet and he looked all poise and maturity as he measured his chance and took it. Absolutely beautiful. Rooney was also involved in Walcott's second and third goals (some superb passing today, Wayne) and rightly so as Walcott's performance called to mind Rooney's astonishing feats in Euro 2004. Wayne himself finally silenced the doubters with a fantastic goal of his own today. He looked very comfortable roaming the field and creating chances while Heskey stayed central. I'm hoping this is the role we will see him take more with United as Berbatov is introduced. Rooney is a play maker, to be sure. Fellow Red Devils Ferdinand and Brown where also (insert superlative, I seem to have exhausted them) for England today. A fantastic game from all (that is, except you, John Terry), well done!

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Let’s go way, way back, to the beginning of the transfer window and come full circle again, shall we. Would you have guessed it? Could you have guessed it? Not in a million years. It's something that could have come from a Greatful Dead-inspired haze.

Two plus months of constant Ronaldo speculation. Spurs reporting United to the FA. Rooney getting the bubonic plague, oh sorry, a “virus” in Africa. The new ‘Middle’ Eastland owners bidding £34m for Berba at the 11th hour, but getting Robinho for a cool £32.5m instead. And, to add even more drama and intrigue before the commercial break, God knows we haven’t had enough already, the official word about the Berbatov didn’t come until at least 30+ minutes past the bewitching hour.

Ah, but in the end, Fergie kept his prised player and lured a world-class striker to United with patience and steely resolution. It’s a non-move, an addition, and one incredibly successful summer.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

Monaco Malaise

The 90th minute “Hand of Scholes” and subsequent sending off exemplified both the indifference and frustration of United on Friday night. Apathy dripped from each defensive lapse, each muted attack and each wasteful cross, culminating in a final, disinterested walk of the pitch. Irritation grew from the game’s real meaninglessness combined with bruised ego from being outplayed by a team that didn’t qualify for last year’s Champions League.

It wasn’t anything near a good performance, but looking back, Reds will fondly remember the game for its comic value. The squad’s tired performance in-and-of-itself isn’t troublesome, yet concerns grow from the overall trends and developments thus far.

First, Hargreaves declared himself unfit at the eleventh hour even though Fergie forecasted that he would play. Last year you could write-off these flare-ups, assuming a summer of rest would bring the knee back to normal. Unfortunately, chronic tendonitis is normal. The value of Hargreaves’ bite, experience, and versatility cannot be underestimated, as evidenced by his set-piece strike against Arsenal and massive performance on the right side during the Champions League Final.

Second, a tighter fixture list is less forgiving to injuries – you can’t help but wonder if last year’s good fortune is a repeatable phenomenon. There were no irreplaceable injuries, as Rio, Vidic, and Ronaldo all largely kept their health. Will this hold true? Time will tell.

And finally, last year’s three-game suspension and this year’s injury-absence show how overly-reliant we are on Ronaldo for width, running lanes, and key goals. Nani’s immature decision-making demonstrates he’s not ready for consistent wing play, while Park and Giggs remain injury-prone. Rooney and Tevez look lost without quality service and linking play. An offensive catalyst remains missing.

Well, not for long.

Saha leaves for Everton. Pavlyuchenko moves to Spurs. Berbatov has been seen bidding farewell to Spurs teammates. Finally!

As our desperation for a true striker nears an end, let us rejoice that the Give Berbatov a home campaign (1-800-SAVE-BERBA*) has finally come to fruition.

I wonder if I’ll get my commemorative headband in time for the Pool match. Fingers crossed.


* * See the I'm on Setanta Sports clip Jose gives his take on the transfer talk at http://www.setanta.com/en/UK/IOSS/.

Our Saviour, Fletcher?

I know, I can't believe it either. The only person on the United squad scoring these days is Darren Fletcher? Particularly after watching him in pre-season against Juve where he missed golden chance after golden chance, this was not what I would have predicted. His placement on the first team has often been colored by suspicions of Scottish nepotism, Sir Alex not helping the fact Monday night by referring to our lone scorer against Portsmouth as "Darren Ferguson". Well, Darren, I say, here's to you. I'll take my wins however I can get them.

Back to Civilization

Suppose you just returned from an extremely remote tropical island, one without satellite TV, internet, or phone access. You’re anxious to know United’s results. Upon finding the first internet café at the airport you grab a computer and begin searching for the Newcastle match report as your mind races…

“A bloody draw! What?! Steven Taylor is Man of the Match?! Steven Taylor! You’re out of your mind! Campbell, Possebon, and Rafael all played?! No Tevez. Giggs and Carrick injured…aw, c’mon…urrrggghhhhh…”

You click to the next report, mumbling obscenities under your breath, as the browser page loads all-too-slowly. Now you’re nervy about the Portsmouth match – a depleted squad, upcoming games with Liverpool and Chelski, and our poor record at Fratton Park.

Loading, loading…

The Guardian headline finally appears: “Fletcher’s strike shakes the ring rust off United.”

“Yesssss!!! Atta-boy, Fletch! Two in two games?! Must be playing brilliantly. Who else played? Tevez, yes… Anderson on the wing – really? Possebon played again. Subs were Gary, Fabio, Rafael, Campbell, Gibson, and Kuszczak – wow, pretty thin squad. Great result.”

What a strange start to the season.

The Newcastle match actually made the Yogi Berra quote “It’s deja-vu, all over again” make sense, while the Portsmouth game reversed a jinx. Keep in mind the season may become only more bizarre with "Russians on the Riviera" this Friday. That’s two trophy competitions before playing three league matches followed by World Cup qualifiers. Nothing again until September 13th. Thank you, oh great schedule-Gods.

Actually, I am serious.

When the schedule first came out, I loathed the Super Cup and timing of World Cup qualifiers ahead of the Pool and Chelski matches. Now with injuries, it looks like the best-possible schedule for the Premiership. It allows youngsters and role-players to get minutes. It avoids some meaningful Premiership games without Ronaldo and the rest of the MASH unit. Plus, you’ve got to love getting a chance to watch Possebon’s quick-and-sure footwork in the middle of the park. As we watch each new youngster show their tremendous promise, it gives more weight to Fergie’s comments that, “United will be winning titles long after I have gone.” This isn’t just PR. You can see and experience the blueprint to a marvelous future.

But now it’s back to the present and thoughts about the Super Cup, WC qualifiers, and no Premiership footy. Hmmm... flatlined my thoughts now... Man, a warm beach far away from civilization certainly sounds enticing now, as long as it has satellite TV access of course. Aloha.

As Ronaldo Turns

Like an e-mail that some how slipped through your spam filter claiming “Angelina Jolie XXX Video Free”, nothing good can come from a closer look. Nothing. Not one single thing.

This summer’s Ronaldo headlines elicited a similar feeling, but like many Reds, I’m sure, we did look. Why put ourselves through this anguish?

We have no choice. You know it. I know it.

Most of us can’t help but care - no matter how infuriated we become with the lad. He is that good. Thoughts of Ronnie donning The Number 7 are a glorious vision and brilliant continuation of the legacy of Bestie, Robson, Cantona, and Beckham. This dream dies hard; we hold out our collective hope.

Looking back, concern about Ronaldo’s future began minutes after winning the Champions League. During his post-match comments on Sky, he began well enough, initially speaking in the first-person about his reactions to the match, missing the penalty – all pretty standard stuff. But his comments took a noticeable turn, away from the first-person. He spoke about “feeling very proud for the lads", “they believe all the time” and “the lads deserve to win the Champions League”, a chilling, third-person reference and preview of coming attractions.

You know the rest... Soon Ronnie refuses to pledge his future to United. Calderon starts a slimy PR campaign. Spanish media write about the inevitability of his arrival there. Blatter, Pele, and his third-cousin, once-removed all provide their opinion. Go ahead and just try to tune out this epic saga - way too much is at stake here.

Then, as we all know, comes the big announcement: he’s staying. Our prayers are answered, our collective anguish relieved. It’s done, over, caput.

Or, is it?

Ronaldo's two primary reasons for wanting to leave United remain valid, as quoted in his interview with Bruno Prata in Publico: “I felt that maybe I needed a new challenge. I never hid the fact that I wanted to play in Spain, at Real Madrid in particular, and I thought this could be the right moment... Apart from the challenge, everyone realizes that Spanish and Portuguese culture and lifestyle are more similar.”

Nothing’s changed with either reason, except that Ronaldo won't leave against United’s wishes, and oh, that little detail about the multiple years remaining on contract. Still, the siren-song of culture, lifestyle, and refereeing that protects star players, unlike in the Premiership, continues to speak Ronnie’s name, as he won't rule out moving to Madrid in the future because "nothing is set in stone." Nothing good comes from a closer look indeed.

Like an average-looking bloke dating a super-model, it’s a marvelously sexy relationship now, but deep-down, he knows it will inevitably end prematurely. The question is when, not if. Such is life with our current Number 7.

Enjoy another round of Viva Ronaldo. It may very well be last call.