Welcome Back, Twelfth Man

How do you explain Spurs' record at Old Trafford?

Never have the North London lads beaten the Red Devils away in the Premier League, including a dubious non-goal thanks to a Roy Carroll butter-job. Or, as an Arsenal supporter next to me said, with both joy over Spurs' failings and bewilderment that Nani's goal stood, “must have been the twelfth man.”

Fair enough, as the bizarre goal will cause so much controversy in the media.

Too bad, though, as United played some excellent football within a pulsating match, one worthy of the longer-term tradition between the two clubs, with fewer goals scored but several well-worked chances nonetheless for both sides.

United closed down the opposition in the game's waning moments and never looked likely to concede an equalizer, despite Spurs' firepower and one Vidic deflection off a Pavlyuechenko long-range effort.

So, let's delight in the take-aways from this match for Sir Alex's men.

First, starting in the midfield with Carrick and Fletcher together central while resting Scholes until the 64th-minute paid handsome dividends. Carrick still looks off his form from two years ago, but managed to cover his ground and play disciplined footy against the five-man Spurs midfield. Fletch was typical Fletch; seemingly everywhere, winning balls, and pushing forward.

Both central midfielders reaped the rewards of playing with Three-Lung Park, as he tracked back superbly while maintaining the energy to push forward as well. Park's effort was reminiscent of his best days when he compensated for Ronaldo's constant runs up the pitch.

Subbing in Scholes' ability to maintain calm possession might become a blueprint for SAF moving forward. United looked remarkably unnerved by Spurs' threat and exceedingly composed with the ginger-haired assassin pulling the strings with fresh legs.

As I've mentioned repeatedly, sometimes Scholes looks off the pace in the final 10-15 minutes within a four-man midfield, resulting in spaces and some critical turnovers that contribute to United's inability to finish off games. Today's lineup alchemy worked perfectly.

Second, it's delightful see Vidic and Rio's partnership calm down the shaky back-line play of earlier this season, along with Captain Vidic's emphatic header to put United ahead one to the good. Barring any injury, a solid defensive run seems likely for Fergie's men.

And last, United's attack without Rooney and Valencia looks entirely capable, unlike conditions last year. Nani and Chicharito provide an electric charge moving forward, an ever-present mismatch for defenders especially on the counter-attack.

Chicharito is a flat-out poacher that can fly, while Nani looks capable of dribbling through anybody one-on-one and hitting Ronaldo-like rockets past the keeper. Combine Berbatov, Park and Fletcher moving into space, with a defender over-lapping, and it's pick-your-poison time.

Chicharito's earned his minutes, plus his team-first attitude provides a stark contrast to Wazza's me-first week of near-betrayal.

Football's a funny game.

One moment Spurs think there's a dead ball and gift possession to Nani for a hugely controversial goal, one that reminds us all to play until the whistle.

Then there's another moment, one where you realize someone's taking your job, one that reminds you that you could be the odd-man out.

You just never know where the twelfth man, odd-man will come from, even if he just signed a five-year deal. Here's to Wazza's apology, then watching him earn his place back in the team. Cheers.

Statement Delivered

Would Rooney's contract resolution cure the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) finishes?

Not exactly.

Entering the second half with a 1-0 lead through a remarkable Chicharito header, the match set up perfectly for another nervy finish, unfortunately, even through Stoke showed nothing moving forward, outside of the ever-dangerous Delap throw-ins and their usual prowess with set pieces.

Ultimately, elder statesmen from both squads would ensure more drama.

Watching Neville be wholly unable to cope with Etherington on the flank and, uncharacteristically, Scholes concede possession going backwards at least three times, I'm reminded of the Little Feat song, Old Folks Boogie, whose lyrics tell us:

“And you know that you're over the hill
When your mind makes a promise that your body can't fill.”

Clearly, Neville's pace illustrates this point, while Scholesy – you still gotta love him – makes more mistakes and covers less and less ground consistently in the final 15 minutes of matches. The shine fades and cries out for being substituted around the 70- to 75-minute mark.

Thankfully, United were not left to pay for Scholes' ridiculous turnover and subsequent clinical finish from the Turkish talisman, Tuncay, with Stoke's first goal EVER against United in the Premier League. A horrible sign, one duly noted by Premiere League competitors Chelsea watching the lunchtime kickoff at home.

And it all seemed sooo comfortable, with Evra being denied a stone-cold penalty and Chicharito's lunging volley whizzing just wide of the post. You felt United had another goal in them.

So comfortable the United lead that the away supporters dug into the older collection of songs to amuse themselves, including “Viva Ronaldo”, “Ohhh-aaah Cantona”, and “Who's that man from Argentina?!” (version 2.0).

A comfortable 1-0 victory away from home felt like the perfect tonic to exorcise and cleanse United from their recent history, until Stoke leveled in the 81st minute.

Then, up steps Chicharito.

Astute United observers recognized immediately this player's special gift, not only for tormenting defenses with his pace, touch, and finish, but his remarkable predatory instincts.

Honestly, the player will be hailed by everyone for two strikes, yet he missed at least two more excellent chances as well. Four goals were fully within his reach today.

Just how would Mr. Wayne Mark Rooney feel watching the match at home had Javier Hernandez converted a hat-trick? Would Roo be delighted or jealous while celebrating his 25th birthday?!

You suspect delight, but with some bittersweet tones as well. Consider Chicharito could run off an impressive goal scoring streak before Wazza even hits the training ground again to improve upon his horrific form. Certainly the thought has crossed his mind.

You never win titles before Boxing Day, but you can lose them by Christmas.

The victory keeps United within range of Chelsea and sets-up next week's match against City nicely, as the Blue Moon were thumped by Arsenal 3-0 today, providing United the opportunity to seriously dent the noisy neighbors title hopes in October.

This turnaround win is a massive statement of intent at the Britannia Stadium. Everyone felt the dropped points were in the bag, but it was not to be thanks to “the little pea.” (Sorry, couldn't resist the cheese.)

Today's post will close with some choice words from today's Man of the Match from ESPN's Soccernet.com:

“We were very happy with the result. We know about Stoke's style and are delighted. I'm working a lot because I want to stay here a long time and win a lot of tournaments.”

On the first goal: “I jumped and saw the ball behind me and tried to head it towards the goal. I don't remember doing it in training. It's a good goal but the most important thing is the result. Here there are no heroes, it is about the team.

My team-mates trust in me and all the staff too. It's an unbelievable opportunity for me to play with the biggest team in the world.”

Statement delivered.

Are you listening Wazza? Are you listening City?

Back at you after the Manchester derby. Cheers.

Wayne's World

Suppose, for a moment, you'd been on vacation to some remote cabin, with the whole point being getting back to nature and unplugging yourself from our 24/7 connected lifestyle. No iPhone, computer, TV or internet access – thank you very much. Time to fish, hike, cook, read, and chill out. Quality time in the outdoors with the spouse.

Now imagine returning home today, October 23rd, from the wilderness and turning on your iPhone. First, the text messages start from your mates going off on Rooney.

What?!

Next, in your bewilderment, you surf to The Guardian to learn exactly happened. He did sign, good, but what the hell happened this week? Why would he need to apologize? City?! He said what?! When?! WTF?!

How could you explain let alone comprehend it all in one fell-swoop moment. One week felt like one year to the hurting United faithful.

It's like the writers of East Enders took control for a moment and created “North Westerners” or “As the Ball Turns”, a soap-opera specializing in the world of modern footballers from the likes of United, City, Everton, Pool, Wigan, etc. Previous episodes included Gerarrd's about-face transfer saga with Chelsea, City getting rich like Jed Clampett, and Ronaldo rumors running non-stop for an entire summer. You get the picture.

Even so, the writers, even at the apex of their creativity, could never have come up with what's transpired this past week. Truth stranger than fiction.

How do you go from proclaiming you'll stay at United forever to claiming that the Red Devils no longer match your ambition in six months?

Consider Paul Stretford, Football Agent.

First, this is in no way, shape, or form an out for Wazza. Rooney is culpable, as he showed tremendous nerve in challenging United's ambitions, especially after playing shite football for six months.

But, you wonder, what happened in the Rooney camp that led to this?

Personally, I'm living my own flashbacks, as I've got an eerily-similar feeling, here, between Rooney's contract negotiations and Kevin Garnett's situation with the Minnesota Timberwolves back in the 90's.

In this tale, the 20- or 21-year old Garnett, at the time, turned down a $104M six-year contract extension, only to have the club capitulate during the final negotiating hour on a much-improved $126M deal. Here, too, real power lay with the player, not the club. The Timberwolves couldn't afford to lose him at any cost.

Sound familiar?

At the contract press conference, a young Garnett, who seemingly had been brainwashed by his agent, Eric Fleisher, proclaimed “it wasn't about the money”, hinting it was more about respect. Like an extra $22M had nothing to do with it. Give me a break. Mr. 15% just made himself an additional $3+M with that ploy alone. Damn the implications on the league, the team, and the player – the agent got his.

The agent probably told the young Garnett something like: “Kevin, you need to 'earn' your respect with management, so regardless, we'll turn down the first offer no matter what they put on the table. It's a principle. You can't let them think they can walk all over you. You must be a “man” in contract negotiations and not set a bad precedent for other players. It's not just about you. What you get impacts what others get. You feel me?”

Thus, we get the ridiculous sound-bite.

I make no claim to know what really happened between Mr. Garnett and Mr. Fleisher, nor Mr. Stretford and Mr. Rooney. Rumors abound. Exact details will likely remain a mystery to all except those involed.

What matters is the power is in the players’ camp, subject to the persuasions, or dare I say, manipulations of the agent's self-interest in getting the best financial deal possible regardless of how it's achieved.

What might you do to earn an extra £1M or $3M?!

Now, knowing that Rooney's incredibly ambitious, given his willingness to leave Everton – his boyhood heroes – for an arch rival, and also understanding that United's current soft-spot is it's current debt structure's implications on signing transfer targets, THE argument to make, should you want to manipulate the player, is that:

“Wayne, you're a world-class player, mate, but debt won't allow United to bring in world-class players anymore. Look at who's left. Look at last summer's purchases. Nice lads, but will they cut it? You've got to ask yourself these questions, Wayne, my boy. Look at what's happened to Liverpool with crazy, football-ignorant, American owners. They nearly went into administration and still face a possible relegation battle. You don't want to play in the Championship, now do you Wayne?! Of course not.”

Our fictitious conversation continues:

“It's my job, Wayne, to know the real truth and United faces the same fate. Have I ever steered you wrong?! I know you're loyal to United. I know you respect Sir Alex immensely – he's top drawer, real class that man – a one-off genius, credit to football. But, how long till the gaffer retires? Do you want to be front-and-center of a sinking ship?”

After Rooney nods tentatively, lets say, Mr. 15% continues:

“So, here's what we'll do: call their bluff. If things are so rosy with the Glazers, let's ask them to spend, say, the Ronaldo transfer fee on players this summer. If they agree, you can sign on and I'm mistaken. Full credit to United. But, if they balk and won't budge, then you've got your answer now, haven't you? Why does everyone hate the Glazers sooo much?! It's common sense, mate. Are you in? Do you want to find out the truth? It's in your best interest to know now than later, when it's too late.”

And there we have it.

A simple, straightforward strategy bound to reveal the “truth” to Wayne as well as anger and put off the United simultaneously. A manufactured and manipulated set-up ready to blow-up, one based on the real and large debts, which is as likely an explanation this past week as any.

Everyone knows THE issue is the power the player holds over the club and THE power agents hold over their young-and-cocooned players.

While we'll never really know what happened, and surely, Sir Alex's power of persuasion played an immense role here, one thing's clear from watching Rooney's post-signing interview on MUTV:

“Yea, it's been difficult for me and I'm sure for the club as well. But, … for me... I felt I had to get my point across and we finally come to an agreement, which I think is the best for the two of us, me and the club. I've spoken to the manager, David Gill, and the Glazers – all of them have confirmed for me that this is the right club to be at and the club's going to be successful and continue winning things.”

Hmmm...“getting my point across” followed by a sweetened offer for an extra £30K per week over 5 years, an extra £7.8M by my calculation, then a signature.

Really, it wasn't about the money. Indeed.

Notice that there's only a mere acknowledgement of how difficult it's been, primarily from his perspective. All the while, Rooney must know how central he's to United's post-Fergie plan and how many supporters place United as a central priority of their life. For the club, fans and die-hard supporters alike, no apology required, evidently.

Looking back, maybe there's something Wayne Mark Rooney can learn from Garnett, nearly a decade his senior and from a similar situation.

Not terribly long into his mega-contract, Garnett fired his agent, Fleisher, as he watched the implications of his contract on everything he loved: the NBA owners locked-out the players, a talented teammate demanded a trade, as he could never make as much as Garnett in the post-lockout world, and the public turned it's admiration, for an equally-hard working player, into disdain. Many viewed Garnett as a naïve at best, or more likely, as a greedy and spoilt athlete – a poster-child for what's wrong with sports and society.

Yet, Garnett didn't let the contract impact his play, as he emerged into the best all-around player in the NBA, bar none. Eventually, his ever-improving skills, intensity, and love for the game won over much of the public. He displayed open affection for his fans, his city, his club, and his game.

Much later, to his credit, he only reluctantly accepted a trade, when it made total sense for all involved, with many Timberwolves supporters keeping loyalty to the player and openly rejoicing when he finally won his first championship with the Celtics. Truly, Garnett is a Hall of Famer and one of the 50 all-time NBA greats.

Please, Wayne, learn from Mr. Garnett. Open up just once and make a heartfelt apology to your teammates and United supporters everywhere. Accept responsibility for the mess you've created.

Yes, you've made your point, but at what cost?

Ponder that, would you please, as I'm sure the Men In Black ringing at your door provided a chillingly clear glimpse into one version of the extreme hurt you caused.

And, after all apologies, do what's natural for you, put everything you've got into your game and the rest will become history, young Skywalker. The football force is strong with you. Simply use it as your guide.

Oh, and if you fired your agent, we, the United bretheren, wouldn't hold that against you. Not for a nanosecond.

-----

Back at you with reflections after the Stoke match. Cheers.

A Deeper Malaise

The National Institute of Mental Health (www.nimh.nih.gov) defines “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” PTSD, as “an anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which grave physical harm occurred or was threatened.”

Hmmm. Losing three two-goal leads in the first eight matches would qualfiy. Check.

It goes on to define symptoms as people having “frightening thoughts and memories of their ordeal and feel emotionally numb, especially with people they were once close to. They may experience sleep problems, feel detached or numb, or be easily startled.”

Frightened, detached, numb and easily startled. Check again.

Well, the ardent, glass-half-full optimist would completely disagree here, arguing United still haven't lost this campaign. Does that make you honestly feel better?

Hardly – it's the way United draw matches that stings sharply, especially when today started so brightly.

No Rooney in the starting line-up quickly became a non-issue, with Chicharito's 5th-minute goal and United's good overall atttacking form. A 2-0 half-time lead could have been 3-0 or 4-0, as the Premier Leagues “Player of the Month” (Berba) curled one just wide and missed a shocking, side-foot sitter.

Today's stroll in the park instead tried to prove the cliché that 2-0 is “the most dangerous lead in football”, with one unlucky deflection and one world-class howler drawing Albion level.

Lucky once, lucky twice instilled a formidable belief in West Brom, especailly after beating Arsenal away. The neutral observer must have felt Albion were the more likley side to bag the three points on the counter-attack.

The Red Devils expected to finnish with a flourish, as the introduction of Scholes and Rooney would surely lead to a massive push forward. A crazy, pressure packed final quarter-hour awaited.

But, did you notice that Mike Phelan had to scream and dance on the sideline to get United forward? What the hell has happened to this squad? A coach needs to cajole the side forward?!

Today the United players did not respect the tradition and honor of the badge, nor the giant home crowd or their massive wages, with their tentativeness and inconsistent play. There's been ZERO killer instinct yet this year. In fact, much worse, United look the part of the usual victim of their own late-game heroics, as they face their own flashbacks from matches past.

What angers me most is that Sir Alex is baffled by such displays. Albeit an honest answer, but if he doesn't get it, what are the chances of an immediate turnaround?

Ah, but the optimist agrues that United were strong defensively, yet lost a lead under the most improbable of circumstances. You could argue that clubs rarely recover from horrific howlers, as England versus USA match can attest. It's soooo deflating to lose a lead in this manner. Blah-blah-blah.

Sure, it's deflating, but why were United in a position to loose the lead in the first place? It should have been 4-0 before Albion even scored.

The reason for the missing killer instinct is simple, really. You've just got to ask yourself “Who is 'in form' at the moment for United?”

Only Berbatov, Scholes (for 70-minutes per match), Fletcher, Vidic, and now Ferdinand, come to mind, while Anderson, Rooney, Evra, Carrick, Gibson, Giggs, Hargraeves, Nani, Park, Valencia, and now van der Sar, are all either injured or widly inconsistent.

There's your answer: too much variation in the system to be effective.

United need to get in form quickly, otherwise, we face the prospect of losing this title campaign before Boxing Day.

Or, as the strangly-optimistic Carl-the-Groundskeeper from Caddy Shack would remind us...

“Well, at least we're not in court facing the prospect of administration. I guess we got that going for us, which is nice.”

Back at you after my own personal PTSD therapy session. Cheers.

Sleepy in Sunderland

The DVR malfunctioned this morning, and failed to record the Sunderland v United match. Thus, I picked up the game live at half time. Guess I didn't miss much.

Blame it on a Champions League hangover, a flooded dressing room (you can't make that up, btw), or a lack of minutes for many of the starting eleven, but United played sleepy and uninspired football. It pains me to admit this, but the scouser, Steve McManaman, said it best, “United looked like they'd rather be at home with their wives.”

How quickly we've gone from conceding late goals to picking up clean sheets without creating much. Two weeks ago all we wanted was concentration and composure along the backline. Now all we want is that cutting-edge to return in attack.

Regardless, the road result remained the same.

We may just be becoming aware of how much United will miss Valencia's play on the wing, given the Nani's unpredictable nature and Park's recent run of form. Width is suddenly lacking.

Valencia's consistency allows United more freedom to tolerate Nani's inconsistencies within matches. Just watch the other player's reactions to Nani's goals if you want to understand how his diving and unpredictable decision-making frustrate others, as the reactions are subdued to say the least with the lone exception of Rio jumping on goal-scorer's shoulders akin to Beckam's need for media attention. Ah, but, I digress.

Couple Valencia's loss with Giggs' injury and width becomes a real problem for United, as you've just lost critical pace and craft. What's left behind with Nani, Park and a grab-bag pick – whether Fletcher, a forward, or newbee like Bebe – is a serious drop in class and consistency.

Football can be an unpredictable temptress, as goals can come and go like the wind. If, and that's a big “if” anyone scored today, you knew it'd be game, set and match. But unlike midweek, no world-class finishes from Chicarito can hide the poor performance.

Our concerns move from a now strong backline to the end product derived from attacking vigor from the wings. Godspeeed to you, Giggsy and Valencia - from the suddenly-sleepless in Sunderland.

Back at you after the international break. Cheers.