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.
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