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.