A Make-Shift Mauling

Manchester United’s recent form at Upton Park and improvised backline caused concern just before kick-off today. United’s defensive fortune would rely on Kuszczak, Fletcher, Neville, Brown, and Evra, with Vidic a late scratch due to illness.

And later, when Gary Neville pulled up with what looked like a groin injury in the 34th minute, Carrick was inserted as a center half. Thus, United played a lengthy spell of the match with eight midfielders populating positions on the pitch.

What a glorious opportunity for West Ham to continue their run as a bogey opponent for United. What a chance to gain vital points and confidence to begin climbing the table from the relegation zone.

Chance wasted.

Today’s victory, when combined with the Pompey drubbing last week, demonstrate that this-year’s edition of the Red Devils has the metal for a serious run at the title, including a budding propensity for lethal goal scoring in bunches.

The early knock against United was that it’s impossible to replace the previous Number Seven’s goal scoring. True enough. Yet, we all wondered if United could source more goals from evenly distributed team play.

The answer is playing out in front of us now.

We all knew that Rooney would relish leading the line up front. What’s impressed me most this year is the evident maturity that’s growing in his game. Sure, he may still have the occasional boil, but he’s learning more and more to channel his energy into more productive pursuits at goal than opinions about refereeing. Was it any coincidence, then, that Mr. Rooney was nowhere near the referee when Vidic was curiously called for a penalty and subsequently netted a hat-trick? I think not.

Rooney’s tallied eleven goals and you still feel that his better form lies just in the future, not in the present. Excellent signs for both England and United.

Shifting back to today’s match, the goal scoring is so apropos on so many levels, with two lasers from central midfielders – one by the seasoned servant to the club, the other by his protégée – and two tap-ins off a clinical tic-tac-toe undressing of the Hammer defense.

Scholes, Gibson, Valencia, and Rooney: exactly the type of score line we had all hoped for and envisioned from this club. Attacking football, the United way, is unfolding right before our eyes, even from the most unlikely, make-shift of squads. Points taken. Bogey ground conquered. More justification for Fergie’s knighthood. Brilliant.

Back at you after the Villa match. Cheers.

Pompey Penalty-Fest

The string of strangeness surrounding United away matches at Pompey continues, albeit this time with an excellent-but-misleading 4-1 score line.

Today’s action included three penalties, thirty-eight shots at goal, seven yellow cards, a Rooney hat trick, and Giggs’ 100th Premiership goal.

So many intriguing subplots to this story, but first, let’s start with poor Pompey.

Not long ago, Pompey celebrated a FA Cup triumph and faced a remarkably sunny future. Maybe a spot in Europe, the supporters must have dreamt during that off-season.

But oh, football can be such a cruel mistress.

Soon Harry Redknapp departs, serious financial turmoil sets in, and a talent exodus from the club leads to seven points from thirteen matches, complete with The Grim Reaper returning to manage their football fortunes.

And then today’s match kicks off.

Pompey looked nothing like a bottom-dwelling club, as they hit twenty-four attempts at goal, forcing seven, often excellent, saves from Tomasz Kuszczak, who made a strong case for the number slot behind van der Sar.

Only poor quality finishing, especially from Aruna Dindane, kept the score line from becoming a nip-and-tuck goal fest. If, and it’s a big “if”, Pompey can find any finishing to accompany such spirited efforts, they will avoid the drop. But, what are the chances they’ll unearth this elusive goal scoring form? Not good.

Beyond my obvious soft spot for Pompey supporters, the United side of this drama was no less intriguing. But first, the refereeing takes center-stage, as much will be written about the curious penalty decisions given by Mike Dean.

When did you last see three – count ‘em – three penalties in the same match?!

Both sets of supporters were absolutely incredulous after the match. In my humble view, the Rooney penalty would be called in a typical match, but surely none thereafter, especially the astounding call against Vidic. It’s the type of argy-bargy that occurs during each and every corner. So, why call it now?! Guilt is no excuse, Mr. Mike.

Football pundits will question Dean’s decision making over and over again ad nauseam in the coming week, which only stirs up more vitriol and ultimately places more pressure on refereeing. Which is too bad because it could overshadow some remarkable performances by four United players.

Kuszczak was brilliant, as mentioned earlier, in keeping United from falling behind, as were Rooney, Giggs, and Valencia.

Rooney’s second hat trick in the Premier League will likely be viewed as extremely easy, since he netted two goals from the spot and the third was a mere tap-in. Rooney will quickly point out the critical role his teammates played in the goals. But regardless, Rooney led the line well today and his performances clearly demonstrate how he relishes leading the front line. This form bodes well for United and England in the coming months.

Next up is our Evergreen leader, the man pushing hard for a knight-ship, the future Sir Ryan Giggs.

How fitting that Giggs’ 100th Premier League goal should come off a set piece that showcased that magic left boot of his. He’s almost thirty-six years old and still routinely outclasses almost everyone on the pitch, almost everyone except Antonio Valencia.

Valencia was electric today, as the ESPN commentators noted throughout the match. It is indeed rare today to see a player with so much pace and such a willingness to run at defenders. Valencia is emerging as the critical wing presence for United, one sorely needed to open up play from the more traditional formations employed this year.

Today’s 4-3-3 in all reality played much more like a 4-4-1-1, with added pressure on Valencia to link play from a forward wing position, a feat more difficult than linking play in the hole behind Rooney.

Early on, the formation seemed to play into Pompey’s hand, with United finding the link forward difficult, but that gradually changed with each and every ball played into space for, or each run around a defender from Valencia. Giggs and Valencia on the wing has quickly become Sir Alex’s favorite combination, whether employing a 4-4-2, 4-5-1, or 4-3-3 of sorts, such as today.

Now, we look to see who will emerge as an heir-apparent for our Welsh Wizard on the left, that’s the next question to play out over the remainder of the season between Obertan, Park, and Nani. Consider the right-side taken by Antonio Valencia.

It wasn’t easy today, but it never really is for United at Fratton Park, with a hat trick, three penalties, three points, and a plus-three goal differential to create a curiously odd symmetry to ponder until next week.

Back at you after the West Ham match. Cheers.

Bounce-Back Ability

Who’d ever want to play United after a loss?!

David Moyes must have rued watching Terry’s goal beat United a fortnight ago, as he feared facing the Red Devil’s almost trademark ability to play their best football immediately after such disappointments. Surely, this apprehension led Moyes to employ a defensive diamond formation in the midfield. Meanwhile Fergie called for “a clinical edge” from his players, as any seasoned United supporter knew that today’s performance wouldn’t disappoint.

There’s so much to savor here – let me count the ways.

First, join me, if will you, in a song in homage to our fine Frenchman, the only United player to start every Premiership game thus far this year: “Paa-trice Evra, Superstar.” A giant “S” and cape seem quite fitting, as his constant forays forward created impossible match-ups and threatened Everton all day.

Second, all three goals came from the midfield today, each one fittingly representing the character of the goal-scorer, with Fletcher’s superb volley demonstrating his profound ascendency as a world-class biting-midfielder, Carrick’s cool, side-footed goal exemplifying his sublime-and-measured control, and Valencia’s relentless pressure being rewarded with a fortunate deflection.

Third, despite the midfield-only scoring, the Rooney and Owen partnership looked menacing throughout, with Rooney’s relentless runs forcing the center halves apart and leaving pockets of space for Owen and midfield runners. How lovely to see Owen’s smiling face much of the day, as he’s enjoying his football at United and provides the much-needed, Solskjær-like poaching ability off the bench. This additional cover and unique dimension will surely come in handy throughout the season much as it did today with Berba sidelined.

And finally, there’s much to look forward to in the coming days, with good news on the injury front and the evergreen two-some closing-in on 100 Premiership goals.

It appears there’s a breakthrough in Rio’s treatment for the interrelated back-and-calf problems, while Park and Hargreaves appear on-track for a return to football in the not-too-distant future.

Arsenal’s injuries and loss today, when combined with a City-Liverpool draw, seem to indicate that there’s another two-horse race in the making. Let’s hope that today’s bounce-back signals another historic run from United.

Back at you after the Portsmouth match. Cheers.

Unlucky

The Stamford Bridge hoo-doo remains in place after today’s United’s 1-0 loss to Chelsea. Physical play and drama reigned supreme, with both sides feeling aggrieved by controversial calls in a tight, edgy contest.

Chelsea felt hard done from Jonny Evans’ lead-with-your-studs, leg-first header and wonder how he remained on the pitch, let alone how Drogba retained a yellow card for the collision. (From United’s and Atkinson’s perspective, Drogba was late and attempted to run through or undercut Evans without a realistic effort at ball.) I’ll concede that whenever studs are shown, in whatever capacity, the player runs risk of serious punishment, with Evans and United fortunate to escape punishment.

Meanwhile United can’t understand how advantage only applies to Chelsea, as Martin Atkinson had several occasions to either allow the Red Devils to continue play, or once Chelsea lost possession with advantage, he’d blow the whistle and attend to an injured player and slow United’s forward momentum. All in all, it was ridiculously one-sided.

But the pen-ultimate controversy from the match will be both the foul called on Fletcher, after arguably winning the ball against Ashley Cole, and the subsequent and resultant Terry goal, which included a Drogba throw down of Wes Brown, one worthy of the World Wrestling Federation.

I’m actually bothered less by the Drogba take-down than I am the original foul called. Whenever there’s a set-piece, there’s always wrestling in the box. Whether it’s called or not, you’ve got to learn to live with it, as its part of the game.

But, the Fletcher foul – you’ve GOT to be joking.

I’ll grant you that Fletcher goes in hard; a regular stuck-in-type player with bite whose tackles often border fouls. Yet, in this case, when two players go for a fifty-fifty ball from opposite sides and both players make contact with ball first, it’s almost never a foul, as Fletcher out-maneuvered Cole superbly.

To get in position to push Cole away with his arm, as claimed by Atkinson, Fletcher needs to come through the ball to do it – thus, ball and possession first. This is precisely the type of physical play Atkinson let go throughout the entire game, thus giving the call added cruelty.

But lest you think I’m a total homer, I’ll admit that United lived dangerously throughout stretches of the second half, conceding too many set-piece chances, Chelsea’s primary threat. This could influence Atkinson’s decision, so goes the logic, thus making the call somewhat self-inflicted.

Regardless, United feel aggrieved and are unlucky to leave Stamford Bridge without a point, as the 4-5-1 that quickly morphed into a 4-3-3 with possession did a marvelous job of shutting down the Chelsea attack. Now, if only United could capitalize on such a strong effort with some clinical finishing. Let’s hope this storyline doesn’t repeat itself too often during the rest of the season, especially during the knock-out phase of the Champions League.

Back at you after the Everton match in two weeks. Cheers.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Sir Alex said it best in his post-match comments, “There was a wounded-animal aspect to the game and it was something we did not overcome.” Liverpool fully deserved the victory, as they simply wanted it more than United on the day. No argument here.

And Fernando Torres continues to ooze sublime finishing in this fixture, with his superb goal today, much like the European Championship winner for Spain, makes a strong case that he’s THE best striker on the planet now, bar none. Thank God Liverpool has no other real options up front.

Which leads me to my analysis of today’s derby, where we the plot to find Premiership gold between competing gunslingers, with all the drama, turmoil, and exaggerated violence you could expect from the third and final story in the Facts trilogy following A Fistful of Facts and For a Few Facts More.

THE GOOD
Yes, there were some bright spots amid all the derby-day-disappointment, including Berbatov’s exquisite touch and building chemistry with other forwards, Owen’s knack for getting behind defenders, and Valencia’s ability to draw double- and triple-teams today.

Granted, the next step in the lad’s development involves making better decisions when faced with such focused pressure, learning how to mix things up by hitting the early ball, curling inside occasionally, and picking the right moments to run at defenders.

Still, if Valencia’s shot off the crossbar goes in, you’d find the media falling over themselves with praise for three crucial goals in three games in a row. To me, he’s shown more signs of learning to play the United way than Nani to date.

And finally, there’s van der Sar-Superstar, with his brilliant save on an early free-kick as well as his overall clarity and confidence he brings to his backline partners. What a complete and utter relief to see his name on the team sheet each week.

THE BAD
Amongst the “il brutto” camp, what stood out the most today was not another critical goal via Rio Ferdinand’s defense, as time will tell if his sharpness and/or pace are missing, but rather, the poor refereeing during the game’s most crucial hour.

First, whenever these teams meet, referees are placed under tremendous pressure and scrutiny. With that said, I’ll even concede that the home team here typically gets the majority of the favorable calls, such as Lucas walking off the pitch somehow without a yellow card today or Macherano getting a second yellow for arguing at Old Trafford. Point conceded.

But what the hell is Andre Marriner thinking when Michael Own is pulled down by Carragher?! A yellow?! Surely, he was in perfect position to see Jamie the Red is the last man back. Surely, nobody would even try to say Owen could have continued on his feet toward goal. Surely, you jest.

Dear Mr. Marriner, you missed an easy and hugely-influential call today – you totally blew it and will be embarrassed while watching on tape.

THE UGLY
Oh, so many to choose from here, whether it’s the non-sending-off of Carragher or Vidic’s arm-tackle of Kuyt, or Macherano once again demonstrating he’s no mensa candidate with a ridiculous, studs-up lunge at van der Sar late-on.

No, the ugliest thing about the match, from the United perspective, is that the result quickly boosts Liverpools’s fragile campaign. A loss would have left Pool in shambles, with the dysfunctional ownership group, rumors of a possible sacking, pressure from a possible early exit from the Champions League, and worst of all, the knowledge they’ll go yet another season without a Premiership trophy.

United had the opportunity to place their arch-rivals into a prison camp of their own hemorrhaging expectations. Queue up Ennio Morricone’s famous film score as Liverpool are back in the title race. How ugly indeed.
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Back at you after the hoof-it laddie, I mean, Blackburn match. Cheers.

Needlessly Nervy

Much, much better attacking play from our beloved Red Devils, as there’s nothing subdued about this performance, yet the defense look remarkably uncertain and even panicky late on.

What should have been a comfortable 3- or 4-nil walk-in-the park, one that allowed Macheda and Wellbeck significant minutes, turned tense in the final moments.

As much as I’ve enjoyed watching Bolton push around other teams, especially Arsenal, the shoe doesn’t feel so good on the other foot now, does it.

Each hoof-job into the box seemed to take forever in flight until some form of conclusion, whether it became a clearance or a corner. Bolton grew in confidence as the minutes waned and the addition of a second striker playing forward instead of the park-the-bus 4-5-1. (I can’t understand why mid-table clubs come to Old Trafford, especially with the nervy defense of late, and not have a go at United. They really don’t expect points. So, why not go for it?!)

But, let’s not allow the final minutes to overshadow the three points taken, shall we.

As if on queue from my last blog entry, Michael Owen and Antonio Valencia turned in immense performances from the front and right respectively, while Ryan Giggs provided great control and verve from the left. Lou Macari said today that Giggs might play until he’s forty, and with games like these, that statement isn’t the least bit absurd for the future knight.

This leads me to highlight two lovely and one troublesome development from today’s match.

First, the Owen-Berbatov partnership showed real promise today, as Owen’s superb running off the ball matched Berba’s guile-filled, short passes and touches. United need a poacher with Owen’s quick brain and feet to change the alchemy up front, otherwise the Red Devil attack can become too predictable and plodding, especially with inconsistent wing play written about here ad nausea. I owe an apology to you, Mr. Owen, for suggesting Fergie look elsewhere during the January transfer window. You’ve already proved your value to the club when healthy. Fingers crossed on that account.

Second, Valencia played his best match in a United shirt, as he constantly looked a threat going forward as well as tracking back in a Park-like fashion to break up Bolton attacks in the defensive-third.

Getting the goal should do wonders for the lad, as he’s broken his duck in a game that matters. Just think: speed, strength, and stamina – a lovely combination indeed. Better watch out, Nani. Someone else is quicky endearing himself to SAF and earning more minutes on your wing. Undoubtedly, with performances such as today, a Giggs-Valencia wing partnership will take top billing on the team sheet.

Third, who stole Rio Ferdinand? No seriously, who did?!

Awhile back several of us United supporters joked around that when we observed that Cashley Cole and Rio funded a movie together, when combined with an owl delivering the wedding rings to Rio and bride this past Summer, were two signs of end-times, a defensive apocalypse for United. Not so funny anymore. Be careful what you say out loud. Even in jest.

Rio plays like a man without confidence in a position that’s arguably more about the c-word than any other position outside keeper. Sure, strikers need confidence, but when it’s lost across the back, its impact is more immediate and painful. Only time will tell if Rio’s form signals a struggle to become truly sharp after multiple injuries or a permanent loss of pace and subsequent confidence. Fergie can’t be happy with his music and movie producing 31-year old now; thank God almighty for the rapid development of Jonny Evans.

But, who are we, United supporters, to complain?! The view from the top of the table is as sweet as ever. What a fantastic set of results in Week 9.

We now turn our eyes towards the future, with Champions League mid-week and the opportunity to end Liverpool’s angst-filled title aspirations at Anfield in October. Can’t wait.

Back at you after the CSK Moscow and Pool matches. Cheers.

Subdued

Two games and two very uneven performances from United this past week, complete with lackluster first halves and the almost cliché ability to fall behind, wake up, and apply immense pressure afterwards.

Unlike against Wolfsburg, it caught up with United on Saturday, as Sunderland fully deserved a point and probably felt somewhat hard-done not to snatch the full three points. This unevenness now appears to be a significant and possible longer-term trend.

When the season began, anticipation brewed to see who within the current squad would emerge to become the next great player, albeit within a more disciplined 4-4-2. United possess loads of talent which can come at opponents with amazing force when everything’s clicking. But that’s precisely the problem this year: if and when everything’s clicking.

Inconsistent and poor decision-making in the final third of the pitch can become contagious with this club. Sure, we applaud the ability to come back and get points against Sunderland, City and Arsenal, but United have already played too many get-out-of-jail-free cards in the form of late, defense-splitting balls from Giggs and opposition own-goals.

This leads me to three solutions to the current mess.

First, beg, borrow, or steal some consistent wing play from somebody. With both Valencia and Nani learning “how to” become a United winger, SAF can only afford to play one inexperienced winger at a time until consistency returns to form with the squad. That means Park, Giggs or even Fletcher to anchor down one side and provide a development opportunity on the other, which leads me to my commentary about Luís Carlos Almeida da Cunha’s recent form.

As we’ve seen all too often, Nani kills off attacks with wrong decisions that can lead both strikers to a self-fulfilling, downward cycle where frustration begets more frustration. All-too-inferior defenders can play Nani straight up as they stay goal-side and wait for him to inevitably show too much ball or hit an absurd cross. Right now, his play seems to infect the entire attack.

Second, United need a forward with pace to mix in with Rooney and Berbatov. This will take some pressure off the wing-play and create those lovely pockets of space that both players capitalize on brilliantly. Michael Owen supposedly filled this need, but Fergie needs to look elsewhere during the January transfer window or start rotating in Wellbeck some at forward.

And finally, as a last resort, United could hire a hypnotist to perform a group trance and convince the lads that they’re really down 1-0 at kickoff. Subdued turned sublime all from the power of suggestion. After Saturday’s performance, it couldn’t hurt.
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Back at you after the Bolton match. Cheers.

Arise, the Next Sir Ryan Giggs

Today’s title plays off the banner shown frequently on TV during United’s comfortable 2-0 win over Stoke on Saturday. Indeed, the Premiership’s most-ever-decorated player deserves a knighthood.

But the bittersweet realization that we may be witnessing Giggy’s final campaign never completely eludes us, as we’ll inevitably receive the news one day that Sir Ryan will hang up his boots. How sad to even contemplate.

Yet beyond the sentiment, the cold reality exists that United can’t afford long-term to rely on get-out-of-jail-free cards played by the experienced hands of Scholes and Giggs.

Someone needs to emerge that will consistently make that pass to cut open defenses or that play which secures a vital three-point away from home. Right now, it appears that someone is lacking within the current squad, as the most likely candidate from the wing, Nani, continues to demonstrate consistently poor decision making.

I know, I know – Rooney and Fletcher have flourished this year, with the former as the consistent goal scoring threat and the latter as the box-to-box midfield engine of United. But neither exactly fit the masterclass-creative roles played by our thrity-somethings. And, that’s why Nani remains such a vital hope for United.

As Phil McNulty, chief football writer for the BBC, wrote so adroitly: “Stoke's fans taunted Nani with chants of ‘You'll Never Be Ronaldo’ in reference to his Portugal team-mate Cristiano, now departed from Old Trafford.

And they were spot on. There is undoubtedly a good player lurking inside Nani trying to get out, but the impression is that he is spending too much time attempting to be Ronaldo rather than himself. Giggs should be his guide.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Think about it: two games, two key Giggs assists later, United are top of the league on goal differential over Chelsea, who now face immense media pressure against the backdrop of their perverse power structure between captain and owner, not to mention their transfer ban.

Without Giggs’ contributions, quite arguably, United could have drawn the last two and would sit uncomfortably behind Chelsea, Liverpool, Tottenham, and be ahead of City only by the prospect of playing an extra game: how dreadful.

All of the pressure would be on United, as the club would face the tiresome prospect of answering a continuous array of post-Ronaldo and newly-arrived City questions. Fergie might have turned a new shade of purple against such predictably irritating journalism – but no way, not with our evergreen twosome demonstrating how to pull the strings when United need it most to capture vital points.

Now is your moment, Luís Carlos Almeida da Cunha. Learn from Giggs’ example. Arise and become the player you alone were meant to be.
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Back at you after the Sunderland match. Cheers.

Welcome to Manchester!

Rarely do overly-hyped matches live up to their billing, as it seems almost impossible for today’s derby to live up to its Elizabethan story line, with a small fortune spent, a former-player-turned-gaffer against his old mentor, and a Judas-like defector returning to his former love.

All too often these games become overly-tight affairs or slip to the other extreme and boil over into an un-football-like madness. But not today – oh brother, not today.

In what Fergie immediately coined “the best ever” Manchester derby, little did we know that players more on the periphery of the build-up and big money – Bellamy, Given, and Fletcher for example – would play lead roles in the match of the season.

Today the pre-match stories failed to live up to the tension, drama, and intrigue of the match itself, as I’m pleasantly exhausted and wired at 10:00 AM Central Standard Time on a Sunday pinging away on my trusty laptop, enjoying every moment here.

After grabbing breakfast and taking some more time for reflection, the underbelly of today’s victory emerges from the afterglow.

When all is said and done, today’s match should never have been this close, with United gifting City two of its three goals with abhorrent mistakes, one from Foster and the other from Rio Ferdinand.

We look at Foster and pray that he’s not headed down the Calamity James career path – an excellent shot-stopper with moments of decision-making madness mixed in with good measure.

Surely, this performance in such a critical match may cause Fergie to lose faith in him, lest he resurrects himself with much calmer performances somehow and somewhere with van der Sar soon to return from injury.

You wonder if Foster might have done better crafting his skill for a few more years with a comfortable, mid-table team, one maybe a bit more forgiving of the occasional blunder. Only time, or Fergie, will tell.

Earlier this Fall I joked that Rio and Cashley (Ashley Cole, for those EPL-challenged) funding a movie together was an early warning sign of an impending (defensive) apocalypse for United.
After Rio’s chronic injury woes, his horrible back-pass with England, and today’s attempted playground trickery, I’m not so certain it’s funny anymore.

Rio plays center-half with such effortless-looking grace that mistakes seem to catch us all off-guard more than otherwise expected. I believe today’s gaff had as much to do with fatigue impacting his decision-making as anything else, as he plays himself back into true match fitness. This isn’t an excuse, mind you, but he’s been such a stalwart defender that I’m sure he’ll turn it around in classic Rio-like fashion, making things look remarkably simple and easy in due time.

Ah, but no worries. All is said and done, which inevitably make these three points even sweeter at the expense of newly-cocky City.

Back at you after the Stoke match. Cheers.

There's Only One Rooney

Infrequently during the season there are events that call me away from watching United live. This weekend was one such occasion, as we had a mini-reunion at a friend’s lake cabin in central Wisconsin.

All packed. TiVo set to record the game. I’m good to go. Nobody will break my own personal United media blackout out in the woods of rural Wisconsin.

That’s nobody except me, of course.

Instant-access culture now reaches this semi-remote cabin with excellent cell phone coverage and the internet-drug of choice: the iPhone.

On Saturday morning I thought reading about Keano and the past might distract my mind or at least temporarily satisfy my craving for live football. Oh how utterly misguided.

Instead of the desired effect of pacifying my urges, the book and too much fine Sumatra java only served to wind me up without any clear channel for my energies. How in the world will I wait until Sunday?! Then, Bob arrived.

Bob’s alma-mater is Central Michigan, who happened to be playing Michigan State in East Lansing on Saturday. Closely he monitored this college football score on his iCrack, I mean, iPhone as we sat outside on the deck.

Ultimately he lets out a cheer followed by some fist pumping and calls from friends after Central upset State on the home turf. Now, I’m simply beside myself, as if my little craving kept tapping me on the shoulder, saying “Go ahead. Take a quick peek. You know you want to.” Its 3:30pm Central Standard Time and United’s game is long over, my rational mind urges.

After all congratulatory calls from Michigan subsided, I asked Bob the magic question, “Hey, can I grab you iPhone and look up the United score?” On a deck in 80-degree sunshine and shielding the phone from the sun there I sat.

Waiting and waiting for the ESPN soccer score page to load, then the Premier League page… more waiting…

Then it appears in all it’s glory: Spurs 1 – 3 United. Yeeeesssss! My own instant joy follows with bemusement after reviewing the match stats. Scholesy picked up two yellows in less than nine minutes. Ander-son-son-son netted his first real United goal. A brilliant result and my craving subdued.

Sunday night comes with a special piece of mind as I turn on the match and feel nothing as Defoe’s first-minute bicycle goes in. How pleasant it is on this day to know the outcome and know that lovely attacking football will emerge from this ugly-slow start.

Late on, after Rooney’s brilliant goal to kill-off the match, I heard it and it gave me shivers: “Roooo-ney! There’s only one Rooo-ney. There’s only one Roo-ney!”

How fitting that the song sung so many times for Keano echoed around North London while I sat reading his biography and getting twitchy in Wisconsin. You can’t help but wonder, now with Ronaldo gone, if Rooney will become a Keane-like force United and will us to victory. What beautiful symmetry and foreshadowing to finish off a fantastic weekend.

There is only one – red hot – Rooney indeed. Back after the City match. Cheers to you.

Oh the Beautiful Irony

Maybe it’s because I’m close to several long-standing Arsenal supporters.

Maybe it’s because I pride myself for having some balanced perspective on my beloved club, however small and however brief.

Maybe it’s because I predicted a 1-1 score within the “I Know the Score” online Premiership prediction game.

But after the final whistle, I couldn’t help feeling both dirty and delighted all at the same time.

Three points is three points, oh Zen-master, yet I couldn’t escape the impending arguments that lay before me the next time I see any of the Arsenal faithful: the Fletcher non-call, the Rooney dive, and the injustice directed toward The Professor. All proof amongst a long rap-sheet, they maintain, that United are beneficiaries of too many calls inside both boxes at Old Trafford. Sure enough, right on script, the nutty Professor arrogantly alludes to the injustice that routinely befalls opponents at the Theater of Dreams and calls United's play some version of anti-football, since he alone holds the patent on the beautiful game.

While I won’t dispel that several fifty-fifty calls went United’s way on Saturday, I agree with the cliché that you largely make your breaks in this life. Nothing’s guaranteed mind you, but United’s concentration, commitment, and courage do influence refereeing along with that little detail that, oh yeah, 75,000+ are in attendance. Smaller grounds with tight surroundings and vocal support elicit a similar influence over refereeing judgment, I contend, as refs cannot escape being human. It’s no different.

Some argue that you cannot help but wonder what winning the majority of the Premiership-era titles does in the sub-reaches of the referee’s mind. Surely, they’ve seen United – from Robson to Rio – outclass many a side, the argument goes, and that influences decisions subconsciously and unduly.

Total rubbish, I say.

First, refereeing in the Premiership involves bang-bang decisions that require instant reactions. The supporter-critic watching at home has the benefit of the TV-angle along with slow-motion replays. To think that refs give United special treatment, one much different than any other home side, over-analyzes the situation. (A compelling counter-argument can be made that refs read all of the pundits’ garbage – too many decisions go United’s way at Old Trafford – thus brewing up some contrarian tendencies within the refereeing ranks. Put that in you pipe and smoke it.)

Yet, even if I accept the special treatment premise, I could subsequently contend that United have justified their “undue” influence over Premiership officials through their performances – you get what you deserve in our imperfect world. Win a few titles and you earn the benefit of the doubt, this argument goes.

Regardless of where you fall within this debate, however, I believe THE two crucial decisions on Saturday had their own merit and ultimately didn’t impact the match’s outcome.

First, the non-call: Fletcher did go to ground early, got ball first, swept out his man only to have the ball crawl up his arm, get up and maintain possession. Touching ball first and coming away with it, I argue, largely influenced Mike Dean’s decision.

But let’s forget this, for a moment, and look at the impact of this decision. Fletcher admitted that he panicked after the non-call and lobbed a terrible clearance that ultimately led to Arshavin’s goal many seconds later – thus, making the decision a non-issue for the game’s outcome. Either way it’s 1-0 to the Arsenal just before half-time.

Second, there’s the whole Rooney fiasco, which already bothers me to no end. (Closed-circuit to the Wenger-Worshipers: don’t forget Eboue’s real dive in the second half, the one appropriately yellow carded by Mike Dean. You’re two for two inside a week, m’boy. But I digress; it’s back to The Boy Wayne.)

Yes, on super-slow-motion, you can see Wazza preparing for the contact and starting to ultimately go down. Yes, I won’t deny that one single bit. But we’re talking fractions of a second here.

Anytime an attacking player goes one-on-one with the keeper, touches ball first, contact comes and the forward goes to ground, you cannot, I repeat, cannot beseech the referee for calling a penalty – no way, no how. Get over it. That’s the risk run by the keeper coming out full-speed on a fifty-fifty ball every single time.

Ah, but could Rooney have gotten out of the way?

Possibly, but even that’s very debatable. Almunia deserves blame for over-reacting to the threat that wide of goal. All he needed was to become big, close a tight angle, and take the percentages that were largely in his favor that Rooney wouldn’t score. His over-reaction is the story, not something seen only on the slowest of replays.

As a United supporter, too many times I’ve seen Rooney keep his feet despite a major hack and ultimately hit a weak shot saved by a grateful keeper or fly off-course largely due to the contact. I don’t fault Rooney’s actions one single bit, if he anticipated the contact and started going down. Well done, Wazza, a smart move by a maturing player.

So, is staying up “honest” and going to ground – even after contact at warp-speed – “cheating”?! Puh-leez.

It is, however, a lovely irony the Gunners should befall such a fate this past Saturday, surely one not lost on Celtic fans.

Enjoy the international break. Back at you after the Tottenham match. Cheers.

Tale of Two Uniteds

EPL Week 2 saw United lose improbably away to Burnley and bounce back to thrash the formerly-plucky Wigan 5-0 away as well, with all five goals coming in a historic, second half performance and one reminiscent of a two games against Spurs: one home, one away.

Prior to the scoring outburst, though, you could feel the players’ tightness around goal, as it seems they too wondered where the goals would come from this year, after the off-season departures and last year’s relatively sparse goal tally. You got the feeling that the angst could become self-fulfilling.

The palatable pressing turned to relief, as best expressed by Rooney’s rapture in front of the heaving away supporters, for whom many probably made the midweek trip to Turf Moor. Three scoreless halves of football gave way to a cathartic release that echoed around the DW stadium “Rooney! Rooney! Rooney!” gave way to “He Goes by the Name of Wayne Rooney.”

Once ahead, the boys finally relaxed in front of goal much to Wigan’s demise, as the goals came quick and fast. Titus Bramble, thank you very much.

Rooney nets his 100th and 101st. Berba and Owen get off the schnide. And Nani – queue the “Thriller” music – rounds out the afternoon with a beautiful, curling free kick over the wall into the near-post-side of goal. Nani’s trademark series of flips-with-a-twist must drive Sir Alex crazy, as you worry about the lad turning an ankle on needless-and-somewhat-excessive celebrations.

I could analyze the importance of the goals to Berba’s and Owen’s confidence. I could stress the importance of regaining form ahead of the massive match against Arsenal at Old Trafford this Saturday. I could also note the second clean sheet of the season – all worthy storylines indeed.

But for me, THE trend seen here is the quintessential-United trait of bouncing back from poor performances with strong showings. That’s precisely what’s made United so dominant under SAF, something we’ve come to expect almost as second nature to our beloved club and one surely noted by the rest of the league this past Saturday. Game on. Did anyone think United would pass the trophy along without a fight?! Not a chance.

We know its “early days” and there’s no bother getting carried away with one, albeit impressive performance.

But one thing appears ready to emerge, as if on cue: this United squad appears worthy of the manager’s steadfast confidence in them and his expectation they will fulfill the promise of the shirt, the marvelous tradition behind United.

Admittedly it was very Charles Darwin this past week: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

Yet something tells me mostly-good times lie ahead. So, let’s relax, like our lads on Saturday, and enjoy the ride. Three down, thirty-four left to play, including the tasty-tie against Arsenal this weekend.

I’ll be back the Monday after the big match. Cheers to you.

Bring On the New Era

Well, that’s more like it, as today’s 1-0 defeat of Birmingham sees United break its string of consecutive home opening draws to teams that took the plunge in Reading ’07 and Newcastle ‘08. Wonder if the Blues are a superstitious lot, as I suppose they can take some solace that they didn’t draw.

Several hours after victory, three things lingered with me after digesting the match. But first, I want to digress for a quick moment.

Nothing rounds off the day after a United victory quite like a Liverpool defeat immediately afterwards in a fast-paced, entertaining game against at Spurs. Better still, Benitez kicks off his annual fault-finding game early by blaming the referee for the outcome instead of acknowledging the Reds sub-standard form due to their walking-wounded first-team. And, closed-circuit to Rafa: How long will you insist on playing Babel ahead of Benayoun?! You get what you deserve here, m’boy.

But alas, let’s get back to United.

First, it’s a major adjustment to watch our boys play a more orthodox four-four-two with strong-but-not-magical wing play. Today chances came aplenty, but you expect that against far-inferior competition and United’s overall Premier League attacking play will become more balanced now because this formation lends itself to more significant contributions from a larger number of players. But will these players take their chances? That’s the question on everyone’s mind now, and unfortunately, the Fletcher and Owen misses today will linger a bit longer that some of us would care to admit. We must take these chances, lads.

Second, Ben Foster really demonstrated his shot-stopping chops today – that point-blank save against Cristian Benitez was utterly world-class. Maybe van der Sar being out for awhile is the God-send opportunity he needs to get his timing and confidence back after very intermittent and inconsistent play between injuries. This bodes well for United and England, along with a budding Rooney-Owen partnership, of course.

Okay, it was only 15 minutes, but I love the dimension Owen brings to the front line, as he constantly looks to get in and behind the backline, while Rooney expertly plays in the space behind and around Owen. Shades of a past Euro, we hope.

In today’s cameo, Owen created one clear and one just-off-side breakaway. Good ol’ Mickey will feast on superb service from quality teammates, especially against suspect opposition such as Birmingham. I easily see shades of the short-but-sweet Larsson-Rooney tandem from 2007. Owen provides a different dimension off the bench, one that can change games and comes without a £25 million price tag. Let’s put that money toward Sergio Agüero, but ah, that’s a debate for another day.

Well, it’s one down and thirty-seven to go. Buckle up and enjoy the ride. The new era hath begun.

United 2009 - 2010 Season Preview

Now with the various pre-season matches and Charity Shield firmly under our belt, it’s time for a quick peak at the 2009-2010 squad and schedule.

First and foremost, let’s start simple, shall we, and acknowledge our collective joy at having no silly, mid-season jaunts to Japan for the lads. Almost makes up for that night in Rome – yeah, right. Two fewer inconsequential tournaments makes this year’s fixture list an improvement over the 60+ game haul last season, even if it did inspire The Boy Wayne’s all-night singing-binge at Japanese karaoke bar, only to be caught by Sir Alex, nonetheless. Priceless, that Special1TV.

My analysis of the changes this past summer includes the old cliché “addition by subtraction”, as I spent time mulling over and reflecting about the implications of the departures of Manucho and Frazier Campbell (What was your favorite Manucho moment, btw?!).

All sarcasm aside, losing Ronaldo and Tevez definitely counts as a serious body-blow to this campaign, but there’s a grain of truth to the old adage, one that’s not lost on the current squad surely.

Both players ultimately displayed their true colors with, oddly, Tevez looking much the worse for wear near the end. We loved you, our man from Argentina, now go try and crack the City squad on a weekly basis.

Ronaldo’s departure casts an all together different shadow, something so obviously irreplaceable. Pundits pose the same line repeatedly in the media: How does United replace a ninety goal-scorer over three years from the wing?! You can’t, but you can move on.

Fergie rightly points out the clubs’ numerous and successful transitions after huge departures, including the Number 7 specifically, made under his adept tutelage. You can feel the delight in SAF’s eyes when he sees the hunger from the youngsters and the desire to achieve on a new stage from the transfers, as he’s largely satisfied with the current lot.

Think about it: what a massive opportunity for Owen, Macheda, and Welbeck specifically up front and for Nani, Tosic, Park, Valencia, and perhaps Obertan, out wide. Nobody replaces Ronaldo. Nobody. But you just can’t help but feel one or two from this group will emerge to become incredibly special now given the chance. That’s precisely what makes this campaign so compelling and intriguing – as if pursuing a fourth straight title wasn’t enough – wondering what will emerge after the last call of Viva Ronaldo.

The hangover’s gone and the Reds go marching on, on, on!

Playing Catch-Up

Today’s title matches both my blogging silence and United’s lovely come-back victory. So much hath transpired since I last posted, with victories in the Champions League and Manchester derby, plus today’s impressive and improbable victory.

Surely, on a heavy pitch and on a night with so many wasted chances, you couldn’t help but wonder if one point was the limit – but not this night, this campaign, and this championship. Surely, it’s in the bag now.

But, early on and being the superstitious-type, I wondered if wearing my Mission Accomplished Fergie t-shirt, complete with the 2002 quote “My greatest challenge was knocking Liverpool right of their f*ing perch!... and you can print that”, might actually have jinxed the outcome in some sort of deranged Nick Hornby-like-way.

Equal measures of fear in losing the title and Liverpool winning it, both utterly unthinkable at this stage, still flicker dimly in the deep, remote recesseses of my brain. Equal measures of pleasure come from winning it and keeping Merseyside a Premiership title-free zone.

Again, watching the game after work, while keeping the necessary media blackout, makes tense games like these more difficult to bear alone, with nobody around to help distract the mind. The tension simply rises and I ponder fast-forwarding the TiVo.

My wife, bless her soul, comes home just after half time and heads to second floor of the house, as she’s apt to talk about social plans in the middle of a beautiful counter-attack.

The dog lingers around me on the sofa until uncontrolled shrieks of “TEVEZZZZZ!!!” and subsequent singing Who’s that Man from Argentina?! cause her to quickly flee upstairs. I’m alone in the living room with the windows open. Passers-by must wonder who the hell is freaking out in there, as this is America and most neighbors know not why I’m celebrating let alone have the foggiest notion about the song.

What a glorious, glorious victory – it’ll make getting down to the pub before 6:45 AM CST all that much more comfortable this Saturday. Surely, there will be a game-long celebration against the gutted-Gunners now, with only one point needed.

Excuese me, miss, I’ll take the number-eighteen, at home, with a side of champagne, if you will.

And yet, beyond the Premiership, there’s so much more to contemplate in the not too distant future, with the Champions League Final and the consistent Ronaldo and Tevez rumors.

Ah, but not today. Today is the day we absolutely knew we’d win the league. What a memorable goal, what a memorable performance.

Campiones! Campiones! Ole, ole, ole.

One Giant Leap for All Red-Kind

Today’s 2-0 victory down on the Riverside didn’t involve any drama, thankfully, despite Ronaldo, Carrick, Fletcher, Anderson, and van der Sar being rested, and with Rio given time to heal from his rib injury.

What a perfect tune-up for Tuesday’s Champions League encounter with Arsenal. Points taken, players rested, mission accomplished, and one huge step taken toward the 18th top-flight title.

The mathematics now involves taking seven points from the final four games, a comfortable demand from the final matches, and the tasty prospect of clinching the league at home with a win or draw against Arsenal.

As I’ve been sitting here, thinking of what exactly to write, somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind a more contemplative, big picture perspective emerges about this game, this season, and this squad.

First and far too frequently this year, games against inferior opposition resulted in more work and worries than anyone cared to remember, often needing late-game heroics or winning with an uncomfortable one-goal cushion, just a flash-moment away from dropping points.

Yet today, Giggs and Scholes broke down Boro with their typical aplomb – accuracy, economy, guile, and vision – and provided the leadership necessary for a cruise control victory. They provide the gaffer with a critical dimension, one needed on day’s like today, an invaluable card to play at the right moment.

Keeping both Giggs and Scholes, however, wasn’t always a forgone conclusion.

Think back to 2005-2006, with the painful realization our midfield was too reliant on the aging-and-injured Giggs and Scholes as well as the imploding-Keane. How tempting it must have been to clean house and start a youth movement across the midfield. Many pundits called for it, as I’m sure both players briefly contemplated life away from Old Trafford out of necessity.

Yet Sir Alex’s vision saw new roles for both players, while he rebuilt the midfield. Both players loyalty primarily stems from their own character, absolutely, but they needed some convincing from the manager in terms of their and the team’s prospects. This was made possible by only one man, Sir Alex Ferguson. This season, today’s result and Giggs’ PFA honors pay homage to such brilliant foresight.

Second, when this year’s schedule came out, several of us pondered the sheer weight of the fixture list, including taxing mid-season travels to Japan. Surely, we thought, this Premiership title may be one trophy too far. What an utterly brutal campaign, we thought. And yet, here we sit, in pole position with the trophy ours to throw away, a tribute to the talent and depth within the squad.

I keep wondering how Fergie does it, whether it’s convincing Ronnie to stay or recruiting young talent – the Machedas, the de Silva twins – to the club. He’s built a masterful mix of gifted players, ranging from their last-teens to late-thirties, within the current squad. Federico Macheda wasn’t even born when Giggs first played for United in the Premiership, yet today we see them playing together on the same pitch, the perfect symbol of the past, present, and future of United.

Ultimately, Sir Alex’s greatest triumph may be the long-term legacy he’s created for the club, an amazing alchemy of youth and experience that fosters the next decade of Red Devil delight. I can’t imagine a better, more fitting tribute to the greatest manager that the world has ever seen.

When Johnny Goes Marching Down the Wing

What a lovely attacking display and crucial victory. Consider Arsenal outclassed. But the score line doesn’t reflect the dominance endured by the Gunners. Yet again, we’re left with a slight, lingering sense of what-could-of-been and lost opportunity.

On a different day, our new formation, with Tevez central and R&R on the wings, clinically finishes at least three chances and effectively kills off this tie. Not today, unfortunately.

Much will be written and said about this match because nearly everyone tunes into this stage of the Champions League. Unfortunately, I’ve got work to make-up this evening, and as such, the blogpost is short, as I’ve got a couple of moments to share from watching the game at The Local Pub in Minneapolis…

Immediately after O’Shea scores from the corner-scramble, a few of us sing the entire song “When Johnny goes marching down the wing” still during goal celebrations. Immediately when the song’s complete, there’s a second of semi-quite, and you hear a few Gooner’s simultaneously moan in despair, like scoring the goal wasn’t bad enough. That’s brilliant, that is.

Late on, Arsenal finally has some possession in the United half and numbers moving forward. It looks promising for them, but Wenger’s men pull an “Arsenal” and string together passes, with nobody wanting to make a decisive move forward let alone shoot. We chant “Pass!” and “Pass!” with each olé-like connection, until the inevitable loss of possession comes from passing-off. Now, just imagine the Arsenal fans’ frustrated looks from poking them on their sore-spot. In a word: priceless.

Somehow footy brings out schadenfreude, especially when you watch a match too close, in mixed company, and want to loudly and freely express your United joy.

Let’s hope we don’t rue today’s 1-0 score line during the return leg. We can’t always rely on O’Shea to bail us out.

Speechless

How many life-lines do we have this year? Seriously, how many?!

The word “stunning” doesn’t begin to describe it, as the awe-inspiring come back evokes memories of the 5-3 victory at White Heart Lane in September 2001. But this is late April, with Liverpool temporarily taking the league lead on goal differential, and a much stronger statement to our supposed superiors on Merseyside. Rafa, you just don’t know when to shut up, do you, as every time, it backfires.

How could any Pool player or fan not feel gutted, demoralized, and much worse for the wear after witnessing such a display?! Oh, the hope followed by immediate-and-resounding despair, with some lingering resignation about the possible first Premier League trophy.

Today, in the unlikeliest of days against stiff opposition, we kill off the game clinically. Who knew we only needed to fall behind 2-0, attack the East End, sub-in Tevez, move Rooney to wing, and have Ronaldo coolly convert a penalty to kick-start our attacking joy. All sarcasm aside, you just have to wonder why we can’t reach this gear more often.

Here are several quick comments about what stands out today.

First, what’s up with closing down crosses from the wing and our far-post marking?! Both have been shocking, at times, these past two months, which needs to improve in our three games with Arsenal. Walcott or Nasri or Arshavin will open us up unless this is sorted out immediately.

Second, thank you, thank you, “OurHero” Gomes for the penalty-gift and the poor reach on the near-post-equalizer from The Boy, Wayne Rooney. That’s brilliant, that is, as the penalty couldn’t have come at a better time.

Third, does anyone have any doubts about Carlos Tevez’ impact on United after watching today’s revival. His energy and passion lifted the whole team and proved the catalyst for our attacking vigor. Can you ever imagine Berbatov having a similar impact?! Ever?! Enough said. Sign him and let us sing about Our Man from Argentina for years to come.

Last, how do you explain the sudden ruthlessness, especially after a restless first half? Honestly 6-2 or 7-2 wasn’t out of the question today, as Ronaldo and Rooney competed with each other for hat-trick honors in a playful display. The game comes so easily to these two young lads; let us hope Ronnie has the good sense to stay longer to see what they can achieve together.

So we look ahead with a renewed glint in the eye, one that comes from the fresh experience that you can never-ever count out United. We are fantastic. And remember: be champions.

Are You Watching Merseyside?

Three points clear. One game in-hand. Five games left for the title chasers.

We’re sniffing distance away from our 18th top-flight title overall, which ties Liverpool’s English record and keeps them in a Premiership title-free zone. Ah, you couldn’t write a better script.

Or could you?!

I don’t in any way, shape, or form mean to disparage our beloved Red Devils’ current quest for a title or sound like I’m complaining, as most squads can only fathom Premiership titles after a night of binge drinking or smoking something a bit sinister.

But, how many squandered opportunities must we bear witness to this year?

I know, I know – it’s the kind of question only asked if you’ve created many opportunities and have experience successfully converting them – the stuff of champions. But, it’s precisely the inability to kill off games this year that could still prove costly.

A second goal clearly ends this contest, with Pompey looking resigned to a certain fate only to be handed an invitation back into the game in the second half. Why Giggsy alone could have replicated Arshavin’s goal-scoring prowess, with 3-4 guilt-edged opportunities missed.

“Obviously, our first-half performance was absolutely fantastic and we should have been five, six goals ahead,” Ferguson told Sky Sports.

"We missed a lot of good chances and you only encourage your opponents in that situation and that's what we did. In the second-half they got to the by-line twice and you start thinking to yourself, 'we're going to throw this away'. Fortunately, Michael Carrick came on and scored the second goal which settled everyone down, but we made it really difficult for ourselves. You only need a second to lose a goal and you risk the game because you haven't taken the chances."

Scoring hasn’t been as easy this term, nor is it the first time Fergie’s warned the boys about not finishing off teams. On one hand, the trend continues with these “semi-uncomfortable” victories, as you can’t help but wonder when and if we’ll pay for keeping teams in games. On the other hand, points are points, and the Reds keep marching on, on, on. Such questions are the spoils of pursuing an 11th Premiership title.

Eat your heart out, Rafa, we know you’re watching.

Home and Dry

My pre-match jitters were intensified by being forced to watch the match on TiVo alone in the evening after multiple client meetings today.

There’s something incredibly strange about going into “media blackout” mode in the States and actually avoiding such a massive result. There’s no checking e-mail or the cell phone. It’s straight home, grab some dinner, and game on. Such is the life where Champions League matches kickoff midday.

Final: FC Porto 0 – 1 Manchester United.

What an audacious SCORCHER! We’re through to the Semis for the third year running!! And, as if it couldn’t get better, Mr. “bulge in the old onion bag” appears headed for retirement or the sack (http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/blog/2009/apr/15/tommy-smyth-us-soccer-espn). Ding, dong the SmYth is dead. Quick, better play the PowerBall while the mojo's still hot.

Three things stood out from the match.

First, and yes, the goal will be played over and over on TVs and YouTube throughout the world for the days and weeks to come. Ronnie thinks it’s his best goal, and who could argue with him, as it’s a well-worthy match-winner. And did you see the ESPN feed panning the United supporters after the replay of Ronnie’s Wondergoal?! One supporter looked hilarious, as the camera caught him just as the goal was scored and you could just see the shocked, “pinch-me-I’m dreaming” expression change to utter-and-uncontrolled joy. What a fantastic reaction-shot. Hopefully someone uploads it – hint, hint – to YouTube that’s got the time.

Second, welcome back, Rio. Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back. If we just erase the past five games, this is the Ferdinand-Vidic partnership of old. How long did you think the Keystone Cops would inhabit our beloved backline?! The shaky defense streak ends, much like the clean sheet record and United becoming the first English team to win at the Estadio do Dragao. Halleluiah.

Third, the Christmas freakin’ tree formation actually worked! Okay, okay, it was more of a 4-2-3-1, but it did close down Porto’s attacking avenues. The formation worked largely because of the discipline of the midfield, especially Mr. Rooney, who wins my “marvelously-composed” performer of the match. Ah, the ever-emotional Wazza. You still saw his disappointment with missed crosses or lost possession, but you never thought he was anywhere near the boil tonight. Likewise, all players seemed to make an positive effort toward each other with their body language tonight, without the petulance, as Fergie’s recent pokes at players paid dividends.

We’ll keep the red flag flying high, ‘coz we’re home and dry and Man United will never die.

We Shall Not Be Moved

“I don’t think it (game) was extraordinary. Manchester United were very nervous, didn’t play particularly well, but it doesn’t matter – they got the result. You know, what a crisis they are in – out of the last fifteen league games they’ve only won thirteen.”
~ Pat Dolan, on Setanta Sports Live’s post-match analysis

Sometimes it’s easy to loose perspective, especially after keeping fourteen clean sheets in a row only to concede to eleven goals in five games, including two losses and the two terrible away goals to Porto. The continued nervousness amongst the backline should concern us but it is a far cry from a crisis, as Mr. Dolan’s sarcasm so correctly notes.

Rough patches happen to everyone at least once per year and this dip in form won’t matter if we keep nicking results. Points are points, oh Zen-master.

Today Fergie went to a 4-3-3 with Berbatov, Tevez, and Rooney across the front and Scholes, Carrick, and Park across the midfield. No Evra, Ferdinand, or Ronaldo to start. Admittedly, with Berba healthy and Sundlerland prone to putting at least 9 behind the ball, it was the obvious formation of choice.

Early on we were fairly composed and patiently penetrated Sunderland’s defense. The game had the hallmarks of a lop-sided result, as Berba coolly-controlled the ball out wide to Rooney, who’s inch-perfect cross was delicatedly-headed home by Scholes.

Surely, another goal would seal the result and such was the traveling supporters confidence that they began breaking out older songs, ones at-best only tangentially-related to anything on the pitch.

We move from slagging Alan Shearer to the Monkey’s Daydream Believer:

F**k off, Alan Shearer,
Oh what can it mean, to a,
Sad geordie bastard, and a,
Shite football team.

To the next song about the former-Sunderland manager and United captain-of-lore:

Oh Keano's f*in' magic,
He wears a magic hat,
And when he saw Old Trafford,
He said I fancy that,
He didn't sign for Arsenal,
Or Blackburn 'coz they're shite,
He signed for Man United,
'Coz they're f*ing dynamite.

You get the picture: everything was going to plan. Sunderland defended deep and isolated Jones and Cissé up front, while United patiently picked apart the Black Cat defense. An afternoon stroll appeared likely.

Somewhere around 30 minutes it changed.

Maybe it was Vidic’s miscommunication with Foster for a gift-corner. Maybe it was merely going down a goal forced the Sunderland to commit some players forward. Or maybe it was both.

So, while the away supporters considered their vast singing options, Sunderland’s confidence grew, the back four’s nerves surfaced yet again, culminating in Edwards’ cross hitting Jonny Evans and caroming straight out off the post, only to be cleared out of the box by Park.

At half-time it’s still: Sunderland 0 – United 1.

We started the second half brightly, with good attacking possession, but again, the defense seemed anxious and uncertain, ultimately leading to Sunderland’s goal, which came off an entirely-defendable cross.

A poor read, step and whiffed-punch from Foster - what's up with potential England keepers anyway?! - and an equally poor reaction from Evans let Kenyon Jones put in his second-effort, after he muffed his first-touch header. Sunderland 1 – United 1. Game on, as it was yet another bad goal to concede.

We responded well in attack, with Scholes and Rooney both firing chances narrowly wide. You could just feel a second goal in United, with it likely coming from either of my co-Men of the Match, Mr. Scholes and Mr. Rooney.

Who knew it’d come from “Macheda the Magician” (http://soccernet.espn.go.com/index?cc=5901), the 17 year old savior for United, who hadn’t played a minute of first-team action not that long ago. It’s now two games played, two match-winning goals scored for his budding career. Unbelievable.

There will be much debate whether Carrick’s shot was intentionally redirected or simply caromed off our hero.

Sir Alex said after the match: ''He has got something special about him, the boy. I haven't seen the goal, but one of the players said he actually tried it. He side-footed it as it came to him. It's that quick-thinking that goal scorers have got. He has just got that instinct.''

Regardless whether the touch was intentional or not, there’s no doubting the boy’s fast assimilation of a Solskjær-like, super-sub status within the club. His goal knocked the wind out of Sunderland and effectively rendered today’s verdict: game, set, match.

In the days ahead, you wonder what song will Peter Boyle compose for, and which of the nicknames – “Mach the Knife” or “Kiko the Kid” perhaps – will stick with, this young prodigy. All we know now is his impact is beyond massive. Already.

So what was it about that crisis at United?!

When asked: “Are United playing like champions?”

Pat Dolan summarized the mood here: “Well, they’re winning like champions. Six point out of the last two games – that’ll do for Fergie.” That’ll do indeed.

We shall not, we shall not be moved,
We shall not, we shall not be moved,
Just like the team, that's gonna win the football league - again!
We shall not be moved.

Ronaldo Rejects Real Rumors

Well it's about freakin' time. What a relief. I'm quite pleased that yesterday's theory was blown out of the water today.

Now just we need to settle the Tevez saga once and for all. One down, one to go.

The Great Escape

Seventeen year old Federico Macheda’s injury-time touch, turn, and curling, clinical finish capped a most improbable come-back and provided a lovely counter-punch to Liverpool’s victory at Craven Cottage. If you thought “Federico who?!” you wouldn’t be alone today, as you can only guess how many folks across the globe learned for the first time that he joined United from Lazio’s academy in September 2007.

This result also, and most unfortunately, comes against the backdrop of more serious rumors of Ronaldo leaving, including several articles in The Guardian, such as Cristiano Ronaldo ready to leave for Real Madrid in £75m transfer. (http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2009/apr/03/cristiano-ronaldo-real-madrid-transfer)

You can just sense the short- and long-term implications playing out now for the club over these next few months. So many trophies, so much young talent, and several critical question marks brewing in the wings give this moment an undeniable historic weight.

First, though, what an absolutely storybook debut for the young Federico, as his goal may be remembered as the seminal moment should United capture the Premier League title yet again this term. The Guardian’s Daniel Taylor aptly compared the goal’s potential gravity to Brucie’s header against Sheffield Wednesday in 1993 – a good and hopeful comparison. For me, I also see parallels in the foreshadowing of a great career, much like Rooney’s late thunderbolt against Arsenal as a sixteen year old sub for Everton.

Interestingly, Sir Alex’s mentioned before the match that "The boy Macheda is developing at a great rate of speed now, his performances for the reserves have been very good, he's a natural finisher and he'll definitely be on the bench at least with Welbeck." Thank God for the natural finisher today.

One of Fergie’s many impressive qualities is his willingness to give young talent a chance based on merit, even during the season’s most critical, come-from-behind moment to date. Score one for the gaffer and the lad.

Second, maybe it’s just me, but something seems amiss with the way United is handling the pressure of the current campaign, despite today’s victory. Players look mentally fatigued, quite possibly from added travel this year or possibly from some internal tension. Not animosity between players, mind you, but some lingering, unresolved questions playing upon the psyche of United.

Consider that, arguably, nobody within the club is more beloved than Carlos Tevez, who remains unsigned despite stating his long-term interest in staying with the club much to his agent’s chagrin.

Consider that nobody is more important to United’s attacking vigor than Ronaldo, who continues his transfer soap opera through his agents and family, with more credible rumors emerging now.

Consider that nobody is more important to United than Sir Alex Ferguson, who, at the age of 67, cannot take his health for granted no matter how hard we pray for him.

Throughout the year, I’ve felt all along that Sir Alex convinced Ronaldo to play out the year, as United wouldn’t budge about any transfers. I also suspect that Sir Alex likely pledged to re-address talks about his future after this season, as SAF bought time to convince Ronnie his best interests lay at Old Trafford.

However, Ronaldo's two primary reasons for wanting to leave United remain valid, as quoted in his interview with Bruno Prata in Publico last August: “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.”

Ronaldo chose not to leave against United’s wishes this year, but what about this summer? If the rumors appearing now have any credibility, how far will Ronnie go this off-season to make his dream move a reality?! Remember, he didn’t rule out moving to Madrid in the future because "nothing is set in stone."

Love him or hate him, but everyone at United knows Ronaldo is irreplaceable within the current squad. You just wonder if, along with a more demanding schedule, the current uncertainties weigh on the players minds.

Today, we witnessed one great escape at the hands of a youngster. Tomorrow, we hope that two escapes will be thwarted through new contract extensions.

Here’s to singing about That Boy Ronaldo and That Man from Argentina for many years to come. Cheers.

March Madness

After winning the Carling Cup against Spurs and categorically dismantling Fulham to reach the FA Cup semi-finals, our dips in form against Newcastle and Intenazionale culminated in the utterly gut-wrenching loss to Pool this past weekend.

Having attended the Inter and Liverpool matches, I’ll share some memories from my experience and make some observations about moving forward.

United 2 – Inter 0
Lovely result, but the lads offered Inter a real opportunity here. A well-timed goal could have swung the momentum and result in an entirely different direction. Yet, it says something about the squad that we can play sub-par and still create more chances than the Seria A leaders.

There were way too many cheap turnovers on the night, worsening a trend that started against Newcastle. Oh the dangers of becoming infatuated with flair football.

The atmosphere in the North Stand was fantastic, with everyone singing all game long and hanging on every touch of the ball. You felt everyone’s collective joy in attack and anxiety at how cheaply we lost possession, as the result was not a forgone conclusion, even up 2-0, with away goals constantly a threat.

Here are my Top Three Match Moments, starting in descending order.

Number 3: “He comes from Serbia.” What an absolutely brilliant and critical header from Vidic. Watching replays, from the field level camera, you can appreciate how easily he loses marks and attacks the ball in the air. Hey, Viera, is that your jockstrap lying in the penalty area?!

Number 2: Singing songs – “you’re not special anymore” – at the attention-hungry Jose Mourinho standing along the touchline for the entire match. Somehow, even from the top of the North Stand, his persistent presence irritated me more than expected. Chin up, Jose.

And drum roll please…

The Number 1 match moment is entirely obvious: Ronaldo’s header to increase the lead to 2-0 and relieve our collective flashbacks from Porto ‘04. From our vantage point, we took in the joyous “Viva Ronaldo” and the related scarf-waving across the stadium – lovely, lovely site to behold indeed. Ronnie’s courage going after headers is under-appreciated and overshadowed by his speed and footwork. Brave lad, That Boy Ronaldo.

Pre-Match Thoughts: United v Liverpool
Beforehand, I wondered what formation Fergie would employ, with the likely candidate being the obvious 4-4-2. Last year, however, we played a 4-5-1 with Rooney as the sole striker to start, as we closed down Gerrard in the hole and controlled tempo, but if memory serves me, Tevez was sick that weekend, so this may have forced Fergie’s hand. Regardless, the formation worked and in retrospect may have been the better choice last Saturday.

You also knew that Scholes and Giggs would start on the bench, given their participation mid-week in the Champions League, with Park on the wing, Fletcher or Anderson added in the middle, and Tevez to possibly replace Berbatov because of his knack for big goals in tight games such as this.

Pre-Match at The Bishop’s Blaize
The 7:00 AM alarm comes way too early but is deemed necessary for us, The Bishop’s Blaize virgins. Nobody in our group is absolutely certain when we need to be in queue for such an early kickoff, so we’re not taking any chances, as we’re 35 minutes early and find ourselves in the front-half of the line when the doors open at 9:00 AM.

Once in, we move to the elevated portion of the bar, grab our pints, and watch how quickly the pub fills with a sea of supporters. Immediately several lads try to get the group going in song, but there’s only scattered responses, as the lads focus on obtaining and drinking pints. Early days, man. Give it a few minutes.

Once the pub reaches a critical mass, with folks still pouring in, the famous Peter Boyle starts orchestrating the singing that made this pub famous amongst United supporters.

Of course, the highlight of the revelry is the traditional homage to Cantona:

“Weeeeeeeeee’ll drink a drink a drink
To Eric the King, the King, the King,
He’s the leader of our football team,
He’s the greatest center forward,
That the world has ever seen!”

A brilliant atmosphere for those inclined to a bit of drink and song before the match.

Some lads from Northern Ireland were gob-smacked that they’d been singing next to two Americans and a Dominican. Their collective response was “And we thought we’d come a long way.” Cheers, mates.

After two hours of absorbing the ambiance and shooting some video memories, we leave to meet our larger group in the Fan Zone and check out the line-ups.

Our tickets located in the first few rows of the South Stand, on the top of the 18-yard box nearest the player’s tunnel, a total contrast to our Champions League seats. Here, we smell the grass, see the true pace of the game and join the Stretford End in song.

United 1 – Liverpool 4
What an utterly and completely shocking result. And it all started so well too.

Reina looks like he’s channeling Calamity James somewhere in the recesses of his brain whenever he visits Old Trafford. Last year, there was Wes Brown’s opener and several other dodgy decisions. This year, he gives an unnecessary penalty by taking down Park, right in front of us, by the way, and Ronnie converts the penalty for a brilliant start.

But, oh, how things can change.

You know the rest, with Vidic’s gaffe to Torres, Evra’s ill-timed tackle and subsequent penalty, Vidic’s red card smack-down, Aurelio’s curling free-kick, and the salt-in-the-wound Dosena lob for the final tally – the horror, the horror.

The club never seemed to recover from Vidic letting the ball play him and gifting Torres the opportunity for their first goal. This mistake unnerved the boys, boosted Pool, and made our backline fall back even further, creating even more space for Gerrard in the hole and lateral runs by Torres. We played right into their strength.

Arrrrggggghhhhhh.

What do you do with the rest of your day after this kind of result? Seriously, what do you do?!

There’s a certain aimlessness and loss of bearings when things go this far off course. Honestly, not in a million years would I have predicted this result. A close loss – yes, maybe – but not this, oh not this.

Moving Forward
All of the talk about being invincible and taking five cups, in retrospect, may have infiltrated the dressing room.

While just today, Fergie played down expectations and said he’s written off hopes of five trophies this year, stating in the New Statesman: "The thing about cup football is you need to be the best but you also need a lot of luck and I think it's asking too much for all the games to go your way.

"The one thing I will say is, this squad is the best I have ever had. Every game we play, I feel confident.

"At the moment, every attack fears our defence and every defence fears our midfield and attack. That gives you confidence but it is too tough a call.''

Beyond the luck-factor, nothing, I repeat, nothing could wake-up the club more than loosing handily to Pool at Old Trafford. Plus, how often does Vidic make any mistakes let alone two colossal blunders? How often will Carrick, Evra, Rio, O’Shea, and Ronaldo all field collective sub-par performances? Don’t bet on it anytime soon.

You only need to see the absolutely pained and disgusted look on Anderson’s face, as he headed up the tunnel after the match, to see first-hand his determination building for the next opponent.

Beware Fulham, Villa, and Sunderland.

Each loss this year has been followed by impressive runs thereafter. I expect nothing less now, and ultimately, Vidic’s two-game suspension may become a godsend, so he can rest up ahead of the packed fixture list in April and May.

We now look forward to the Champions League draw tomorrow (March 20) and taking out the collective frustrations against The Cottagers on the banks of the River Thames.

Easy Peasy

How disheartening it must be for title chasers to watch United purr around the pitch, stinging together passes, possession, and penetration at-will against a side playing 10 behind the ball. United’s attacking verve gets better by the day, so it’s becoming less a matter of if they’ll win, but rather, by how much. All the while, United successfully rotate in and out a host of players, and, oh yeah, there’s that little thing about 14 straight clean sheets. Eat your heart out Rafa.

Fergie maintains an almost psychic ability to judge form and know exactly when to insert a player in the line-up. At Pride Park, it was another masterful performance by Giggs, as Nani, Gibson, and Wellbeck took full advantage of their minutes as well. Today, it was Scholes’ turn to shine.

He was utterly brilliant, as he pinged together a whole collection of precise passes, from delicate chips just over defenders to 50-yard cross-field-diagonal passes to Ronaldo in-stride, not to mention his hammer-volley for his 97th Premier League goal. He makes the game look way, way too easy and was Man of the Match, hands down.

What an incredibly sad day it will be when Giggs and Scholes hangs up their boots. Both players haven’t received nearly enough headlines for their performances, unlike players such as Cantona or Keane.

That’s precisely what makes all of recent accolades for Giggsy so sweet.

After the West Ham match, La Gazzette Dello Sport made the Welshman one of 35 candidates for their weekly Europe’s Best XI, as they described the veteran as "class personified" and he wound up being voted in as a starting winger. Exactly a week later, Alan Hansen argued in his BBC column that Ryan Giggs ought to be footballer of the year, after extolling his performance overall this year and as a central striker in the FA Cup match at Derby.

Much like an aging actor who receives his first Oscar as much for his body of work than for the film in question, Giggs might just pip his own teammates for player of the year honors. And why not?! His performances have been magnificent, his versatility superb.

So, here’s to the future footballer of the year, Sir Ryan Giggs. Cheers!