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Ivor Irwin

There’ll Never Be Another His Like: Goodbye Sir Alex!

 Posted by on May 14, 2013 at 5:59 pm  Blogs/Media
May 142013
 

Manchester United 2-1 Swansea City
Sir Alex Ferguson 004 There’ll Never Be Another His Like: Goodbye Sir Alex!It was a lovely day at Old Trafford as the faithful gathered to celebrate the momentous retirement of Sir Alex Ferguson and Paul Scholes and a 20th club championship. The genteel crowd was loud without being raucous and everybody seemed to have brought a banner to wave in lieu of becoming too drunk with passion on an obviously emotional night. Indeed, the only thing that threatened the Hollywood, fairy-tale-style story was the upstart-type rudeness of Manchester United’s guests Swansea City. Superior by far to United’s jaded team of played out carousers–especially in the second half., manager Michael Laudrap’s team almost stole away with the cup that had long since runneth over. Fortunately, United own more than one wizard and its Dutch one, Robin Van Persie, waved his magic wand in the 87th minute, supplying a fantastic pass that Rio Ferdinand, who rarely ever scores, was on the spot to volley home for the winner.

It was the kind of last minute coup-de-grace United’s fans have grown used to this season. Nothing surprising to Fergie and his Ginger Prince, of course, although both were jumping up and down in their seats.This had been Scholes’s 498th Premier League appearance, during which he helped the club win 11 titles during a brilliant career .Scholes, the quiet master of the probing midfield pass balls, has been a performer of integrity, lauded by the likes of his contemporaries Xavi, Edgar Davids, Kaka and Zinedene Zedane as the greatest English footballer ever, Scholes has always shrugged his shoulders and let his football do the talking..

Indeed, so momentous were these goings-on that Wayne Rooney’s Mother’s Day decision to announce that he wasn’t going to play and announce that he had just submitted a second written request for a transfer seemed to affect the proceedings not a whit. as Ferguson picked a mixture of old warriors like Ferdinand, Evra, Scholes and Carrick next to De Gea, Kagawa, Welbeck, Jones and Hernández. How funny it was to see our joyous Anderson conducting the Stretford End as they sang. “We won our trophy back now Mancini’s got the sack!”

At any rate, it was a fairly staid first half as United retained possession over a seemingly overawed Swansea team, and played a surprisingly slow kind of tiki-tak passing. Evra, Scholes, Van Persie and Welbeck all missed chances. It took until the 39th minute for United to finally execute. After an injury break to treat Welbeck and Neil Taylor after a clash of heads, United were awarded a free-kick. Van Persie’s kick landed awkwardly by Ashley Williams who pushed his clearance straight into Hernández’s path. Chicharito being Chicharito, he blasted the ball home from six yards out. Man Utd v Swansea 010 There’ll Never Be Another His Like: Goodbye Sir Alex!

After the break, united suddenly began missing their passes. With Jones playing right back, Carrick did not get the protection he likes from a tiring Anderson. Much harassed by De Guzman and Brittan, Carrick’s passing game evaporated. The first-rate Pablo Hernández helped himself to an Carrick feed and which forced Ferdinand to clear for a corner. Williams climbed high to nod Hernandez’s ball across goal where it landed at Nathan Dyer’s feet. The titchy winger’s inswinging pass was missed by a diving Jones before the fantastic goal-machine Michu managed to volley the ball past a stranded David De Gea.

If this caused disquiet in the United ranks, worse nearly occurred soon. Wayne Routledge got in behind – precisely where Ferdinand did not want him – but as the forward pulled the trigger Ferdinand got back close enough to make him miss to De Gea’s left. With the score tied, the Stretford End suddenly went quiet as City enjoyed almost twenty minutes of outright domination. Luckily De Gea made two great saves from the Spaniards, Hernandez and Flores.Man Utd v Swansea 013 There’ll Never Be Another His Like: Goodbye Sir Alex!

Luckily, having weathered the storm of an attacking single-minded. Swansea, United’s elderly brains-trust of Giggs and Van Persie were bound and determined to make a happy ending. And when Ferdinand volleyed home his first goal in five years in in the 87th minute, the victory/retirement party began in earnest.

After the match, Sir Alex Ferguson picked up the microphone and paid tribute to players, supporters, all of those, he said, those at United who had supported him in troubled early years Thus he segued into requesting We all give our full support to new manager David Moyes. the Gaffer then took off for ten minutes before returning with his triumphant squad (including Wayne Rooney) to celebrate this by-now familiar ritual of joyfully lifting the Premier League trophy, having reclaimed it from Our nemeses Manchester City.
Man Utd v Swansea 014 There’ll Never Be Another His Like: Goodbye Sir Alex!

Sir Alex Ferguson: Goodbye Big Boss Man & Amen!

 Posted by on May 10, 2013 at 5:04 pm  Blogs/Media, England, Manchester United, The Beautiful Game
May 102013
 

Sir Alex Ferguson 002 Sir Alex Ferguson: Goodbye Big Boss Man & Amen!
A lot of pundits and so-called football experts have been composing what are tantamount to eulogies and obituaries. Well, let me tell you, the rum old bugger is not dead yet and, even though his successor, David Moyes, might wish it so, it’s never far from the boardroom to the manager’s office. I’m not going to bore you with one more inventorial itemization of the honors he’s won. If you need stats and facts go to your search engine. What’s amazing to me is the way he outlasted all the other great ones. Of course, the ultimate swan song is dying on the job. like Jock Stein being stretchered off while managing Scotland with our young dearly beloved Fergie at his side as assistant. That was what I hoped wouldn’t happen to him, and didn’t. Jock Stein was 62, but it seems all of Fergie’s other influential elders and contemporaries jacked it in early. Matt Busby quit at 62, Bill Shankly at 60; fired by Everton at 60, Harry Catterick died an embittered geezer of 65; Bob Paisley killed by the stress of success at 64; Brian Clough, an alcoholic wreck of 58. Take a look at photographs of any of them after their pomp, and , like being the President of the United States, the stress of the job shows on their faces early. Being a manager then was hard. The money now is much bigger, but being a manager now is even more debilitating. Yet, at 71, despite carrying a pacemaker in his chest and a looming hip replacement, “Mr. Glaswegian hatchet-face” as journo James Richardson likes to call him, looks bloody good. Anyone who’s ever watched a United match knows that Ferguson could clearly be a nervous or angry man. Yet he always had a sort of zen-like gift of being able to compartmentalize his feelings in a manner the his aforementioned colleagues couldn’t.

I try to imagine these last few days before his final match as he drives into Old Trafford past his own statue and that of Sir Matt Busby. The Routine. 6:50 a.m. every morning. As regular and reliable as clockwork. I think it’s going to be a lot harder on him than us. And the temptation to be be like Sir Matt in dealing with McGuinness and O’Farrell. You can talk all the talk all you want about “my door is always open,” but all the well-meaning rhetoric in the world more often than not clashes with the reality of that old cliché that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Indeed, Mr. Moyes may leave his door wide open, but that doesn’t sincerely mean that he wants a visit from the Gaffer. So what will He do? Married to a job for that long and so bloody good at it. What will He do?

My cousin in Glasgow has already messaged me predicting the imminent resignation of wee Gordon Strachan. One last campaign looms, he insists, where, like William Wallace, the old general reunites the clans and having failed to qualify for the World Cup tournament in Brazil, leads his national team to glory in Qatar at 80 years-of-age. Nice idea if you’ve got the horses, of course, but I fear Scotland barely has the carts these days. Sad!

I think the picture of Sir Alex Ferguson that I want to keep in my head is the one of his sadness after losing to Real Madrid at Old Trafford in March. Never mind the ref being bent, or the lads desire disintegrating almost instantaneously after Luka Modric’s fabulous equalizer. What I see now in armchair retrospect is the disappointed loss of a defeated gambler, one who already knew that this was his very last game ever in European competition and that he’d have to settle for only winning it twice.

Goodbye Gaffer, but not farewell. Work on your golf swing and your French. Buy some more gee-gees! Count your dosh and then make some more. I’m going to miss you! And for the Haters. Those who didn’t like him because of his success or because he didn’t tolerate fools or maybe because he wasn’t the world’s nicest person or any of a thousand other reasons… You’re going to miss him! Indeed, I think you have no clue at all as to just how much youre going to miss him.
Sir Alex Ferguson patrols 002 Sir Alex Ferguson: Goodbye Big Boss Man & Amen!

Shameless on the field of Our Dreams!

 Posted by on May 8, 2013 at 2:55 pm  Blogs/Media, Chelsea, England, From the GFT Blogs, Global Football Today, Manchester United
May 082013
 

Manchester United 0 -1 Chelsea
2013 05 05T171237Z 1 CBRE9441BT700 RTROPTP 2 SOCCER ENGLAND Shameless on the field of Our Dreams!It was, according to my old mate and midfield partner from the Prestwich Heys team, Rob Cockcroft, in the message he sent me from Pnom Penh, the very worst single display of a team at its worse in at least 34 years. An exaggerations, perhaps, or else an apt clarification of just how mediocre the football has been in the Premier League this season. Having been crowned champions, however, good, bad, or mostly mediocre, as I would have it, the players of Manchester United have quit. All well and good for them. It’s nice to be a millionaire. But, really, for the season ticket holders, satellite dish owners and suckers who order a la carte from their cable supplier, expecting the lads to at least give enough of a damn to try just a bit seems too much. Why is this asking so much? Worse yet, is the sound of my Spurs’ fan acquaintances’ sarcasm, as, humiliated by 63 years of the F.A.’s favoritism, they sincerely wonder why United’s players would prefer not to have them in ECC instead of Spurs. Even the guys on Republica Deportivo posited the idea that not qualifying for the top four will cause Spurs’ owner to flog Gareth Bale to United(and thus why we would let them win!). That, of course, is ridiculous, but no less ridiculous than the fact that Danny Levy would rather sell the Welsh chimp boy to Les Gooners than Us.

Not that Chelsea were particularly good. Going into their 65th match of a long long season, the royal blues had to do without an injured Eden Hazard. Yet, even minus the slick Belgian playmaker, Chelsea were far more creative than a jaded United, who were bound and determined from the get-go not to score at Old Trafford for the first time in 67 league matches, and didn’t. Adding another piquant soup con of insult to treating their millions of fans around the world like a roll of one-ply toilet paper, the red devils appropriated their very first red card of the season as a dimwitted Rafael Da Silva let himself get suckered into retaliating against his fellow Brazilian tormentor, David Luiz.

Yet none of any of this would have mattered a whit had not the indefatigable Oscar not located Juan Mata with an absolutely exquisite pass four minutes from full-time. With Patrice Evra’s elderly legs having given out somewhere after the beginning of the second half, he was a frozen, grinning twit of a witness as Mata seized the moment. Firing a curving left-footer at the bulk of Phil Jones, Mata was like a sniper doing maty in his head, calculating wind and spin and the manner in which United’s goalie Anders Lindegaard–who had virtually nothing to do throughout the game–would angle his dive for the ball. And even though the goal will be credited as a Jones own goal, we’ve all seen enough of these clever Mata deflected masterpieces that they may soon deserve a category all of their own.

Hard to say much about the rest of this match. Chelsea were marginally better in a yawn of a first half. Mata missed twice after nice passes from Demba Ba. Moses shot over the bar and Lindegaard made a single save, smothering a fine shot from Oscar at the post. United’s single tactic seemed to involve always locating Robin van Persie after too many tiki-tiki-tak short passes. Indeed, only Ryan Giggs manage to surprise the flat-footed Chelsea back four as he stole the ball off RVP’s toe and shot past a diving Peter Cech, only to see the ball waylaid by a bump and go a centimeter or so past the post. The old wizard also came close with a header off a Vidic cross, but Cech was there in the way with plenty of time to to smother it.

Poor Tom Cleverley, slow on the uptake as ever, was well set up by both Anderson and Giggs, and allowed all the time in the world on the edge of the box, but twice he hammered the ball on the edge of the area, yet with a better opportunity than he possibly realized the fringe player lacked the composure to take advantage, shooting early and blazing over the bar. Those of you who are as utterly exhausted by the mediocrity of Cleverley and puzzled by Roy Hodgson’s penchant for picking him for England must remember, he simply is not very good and has regressed rather than improved. As he was such a hit under the tutelage of Roberto Martínez at Wigan Athletic, I suggest we put him in a parcel with a bow and pawn him off in some kind of part-exchange for Jamie McCarthy.

Chelsea might have had a penalty at the start of the second half when Giggs hauled down David Luiz as he entered the area. Howard Webb waved away their claims, however, which seemed reasonable as the offense seemed to originate outside the box, though it appeared overly generous of the referee not even to award a free-kick or a red card after Luiz managed to simultaneously take the kick and dive forward as if wounded from behind my a high caliber bullet.

Even introductions of Wayne Rooney and Fernando Torres as substitutes didn’t work. Both seemed distracted. Rooney looked particularly enfeebled. All the repeated rumors of Rooney’s transfer requests to leave for new partnerships with Lewandowski at Bayern or Ibrahimovich at Paris S.G. may have been deemed absurd, but there clearly is something wrong once again with Wayne Rooney. His losing of the ball to the aggressive Ramires in his own half is clearly understandable. Goes with the territory? Right! But Wazza’s attitude, having only just arrived on the pitch full of pizzazz, was, one might reasonably expect, to give chase. Ramires, clearly Chelsea’s best, most consistent player this year, was off to the races but clearly exhausted, puffing as he looked all around for someone to pass to. Our stocky little Scouse should have easily been able to run him down, but he did not.

Consequently, although United and Chelsea had each looked deliriously happy enough to settle for a draw. Ramires urinated in the punch bowl. Ramires to Lampard to Oscar who found Mata before the Spaniard fired a masterpiece of a left-footed beauty fit to deflect in off Jones’ back and wrong foot Lindegaard at the far post.

Any last second hope of a last-second United miracle comeback evaporated as David Luiz made easy sucker-work out of his Brazilian compatriot Rafael Da Silva after elbowing him twice and then falling down tragically once again “like a dying swan,” as Fergie put it. United ‘s hotheaded right back really ought to know better now that he is no longer an adolescent. Sure, Luiz was seen all over the world smirking at the referee, Howard Webb, after he sent Fabio off. It was indeed sad for the club to receive its first red card of the season over something so petty. Yet the collective naïveté of the team is not at all touching as it is in a club full of kiddiwinkies like Paul Lambert’s Aston Villa. Nothing cute at all, just embarrassment.

Ferguson was clearly not best pleased when he made his post-match appearance before the press. With his face fixed in a sort of gargoyle state of rictus, the old veteran looked as devastated as he had more than a year ago after the club took a 6-1 home hammering to Manchester City. “The desire was not there,” he said from between pursed lips. “It just wasn’t there.”Chelseas Juan Mata and a 008 Shameless on the field of Our Dreams!

Arsenal: If it Wasn’t For No Class, They Wouldn’t Have No Class At All!

 Posted by on May 1, 2013 at 6:20 pm  Arsenal, Blogs/Media, England, EPL, From the GFT Blogs, Manchester United
May 012013
 

Arsenal 1-1 Manchester United
Robin van Persie Arsenal 008 1 Arsenal: If it Wasnt For No Class, They Wouldnt Have No Class At All! The story behind the story. My dream. Friday at the Arsenal training ground. Theo Walcott is staring at his opened locker door. Scotch-taped to the door is a carefully cut out newspaper photo of Rio Ferdinand. Theo is making his war face.
“You talkin’’ to me?” he says in his thin Berkshire boy-soprano mockney. “Are you talkin’’ to me?”
Rio just stares back, which makes Theo madder and madder. “Are you talking to me?”
He feints and then throws a left hook just short of the photo. Doesn’t want to dislocate his shoulder again, does he?
“We-ell I don’t see anyone else in this room,” he says real Yardie-like. “So I’m gonna have to kick your arse.”
Next to him, on the left is Gervinho, his funny, string and real hair toupée-cum-extention do making funny noises as it taps against his forehead while he swears in French at a photo of Jonny Evans. To his right, Per Mertesacker, lovingly referred to as “Der Meatsack” by his teammates, keeps staring at Wayne Rooney and calling him “Shkausser Schweinhundt!”
Meanwhile, behind them, an old skinny Alsatian named Arséne is smacking a riding crop against a bench while his even dourer assistant sucks his teeth. “Zey got our little gift on Sunday, right Steve?” Steve Bould, nods repeatedly.
“Venez sur mes garçons de poupée lttle. Montrez-leur ce qui, dans le coeur d’une poupée, est un guerrier.!” *
Theo does not know what his silly French boss is talking about. He never knows what his silly French boss is talking about. But he does know he’s going to beat that bloody Rio Ferdinand all the way back to Pinner or Peckham, or wherever he comes from.
A dream? How else can one explain Sunday’s comic draw? Arséne Wenger, Nick Hornby and Piers Morgan with their simpering platitudes about their team being on its best behavior proved to be about as sincere as a pregnant nun. One more desperate, tragic attempt to seize an early advantage. Sure, the crowd booed at Robin Van Persie and, sure, the Dutchman looked sad. The full human comedy had to be played out, however, and, at the end of the game, Robin Van Persie had scored 25 league goals for Manchester United, 29 in all competitions, and taken over the lead for the Golden Boot from the hungry one, Luís Suarez of Liverpool. Arsenal fans went home even more miserable than they had when they arrived

Nevertheless, the goal he scored against Arsenal may turn out to have a truly resonant impact. Should Les Gooners miss out on a top four place in the Premier League and thus the Champions League next season, it will be the first time they have gone without the most lucrative of cash cows for the first time in fifteen years. Let me reiterate. You know the cliché–the one that says revenge is a dish which tastes much better when served cold–it was one Arsenal fans had to swallow in a state of deeply deserved anguish on Sunday. Having booed their former hero throughout the first half, they got their comeuppance. Yes, irony was well noted on all sides as Robin Van Persie stepped up to rocket home a well deserved, icily dispatched penalty in the 42nd minute while the fat lady sang.

United versus Arsenal matches are by their very nature ugly affairs. Not ugly in the vicious sense of United’s tactically ugly matches with Liverpool are. They are, rather, emotional, slapdash, petty, often badly behaved matches on both sides, full of sneaky off-the-ball encounters, relentless speed races, shocking mistakes and always always always too chock full of drama for mortal referees to handle. In this case, with Howard Webb’s favorite assistant Phil Dowd running things, veteran United fans were all well aware that if anybody was going to make sure He was going to be the star of the show, it would be Phil himself. And so it came to pass!

Arsenal were shockingly dominant for the first half hour. Testing Dowd with every single tackle, ankle-tapping and rabbit-punching off the ball, the Arse were the 2005 team temporarily reincarnated, minus the purity of talent and finesse, though. Much quicker to the ball, playing with width, sprinting to fill every space, repeatedly taking turns kicking Wayne Rooney as if he were a sort of Scouse Guy Fawkes dummy, they kept United pinned back while repeatedly, relentlessly daring them to retaliate for a series of cheap shots. Yet United did not retaliate. It all being part and parcel of a season of ridiculously good behavior. Yet the crew of officials seemed to blow everything Arsenal’s way. It became pretty clear once they’d received their fifth yellow card in a row after Rooney collided 50/50 with Arteta and Rafael Da Silva took umbrage after receiving a throw-in in the mush, that Phil Dowd was not in a state of empathy.

The one goal Arsenal did score came in the second minute and was so clearly offside that United actually took it well, seeming to sort of collectively shrug their shoulders. Ironically, Van Persie was the culprit as he carelessly gave the ball away to the thieving magpie Rosicky. The Slovak schemer was quickly off to the races before firing a fine pass into the box which Walcott sped onto from an offside position before firing a finish at an obtuse angle past a stranded David De Gea, who had no chance.

And from then on, until about the 40th minute, Arsenal played well. Still, led by Lucas Podolski in place of the suspended Olivier Giroud, although they attacked relentlessly, they were mostly ineffective. In spite of the relentless energy displayed by Rosicky, Arteta, Ramsey, Cazoría and, later. Wilshere, they were simply never looked capable of executing that effective last ball in United’s third of the field.

To say United took a long time to get going is a copious understatement. The boys were obviously hungover, many said. But these young millionaires really are quite fit and surely young enough to shrug off what might well hinder lesser men. Yet how did Rafael da Silva and Phil Jones both end up passing the ball to an invisible teammate and out of touch under no opposition pressure? Sure we expect De Gea to drop a clanger under pressure, but how did he simply drop a corner kick he caught cleanly and make a bollix out of a subsequent clearance? Wayne Rooney was fine in the second half, but in the first half he seemed to spend a lot of time admiring the hue of his boots. Nani and Valencia were more or less invisible beyond passively absorbing cheap shots from Arteta and Ramsey. With Ferguson letting loose a very audible string of invectives at the fourth official and a grinning Phil Dowd, United’s ‘hangover’ seemed to be more of a case of narcolepsy. The kind of body-snatched stupor associated with absinthe, not champagne!?

Yet, as bizarrely un-United as they so often seemed early on, they still created a couple of opportunities of their own before Van Persie’s equalizer. Phil Jones, as cumbersome and awkward as he seems, was a more and more of a menace in midfield as Arteta and Ramsey’s off-the-ball bullying upped his ire. Well set up by Evra and Rafael Da Silva, he headed two gaping sitters wide of the goal. Then, having botched a series of half-chances, Nani sold Arteta an exquisite dummy, lifted a breathtaking cross into the path of Van Persie as he sprinted into the box. How Szczesny saved his shot is hard to know.

But, minutes later, Van Persie shrugged off the cobwebs again. In fairness to Dowd, his judgment was impeccable for the penalty because, at the speed the actual play was made at, it was anything but a straightforward decision. Picking up a Valencia pass, Van Persie took off at speed down the left-hand channel, leaving right back Bacary Sagna flat-footed and humiliated. Having made a mistake, Sagna swiveled and gave chase. In an attempt to make up for his mistake, he slid in on Van Persie’s ankles and threshed him down well inside the box. Dowd, who had already forgiven an identical foul by Sagna on Evra earlier, grinned back at a caterwauling Ferguson, blew his whistle and pointed at the penalty spot. Many in the crowd were amazed. A wall of boos accompanied that penalty, but Robin Van Persie is made of strong stuff. His shot, a piece of raw, pure, beautiful left-footed power, beat Wojciech Szczesny easily.

Whatever did go wrong on the day for United, I think none of us or them have any idea of what it was. Absinthe drinking offers up as silly a reason as any. The sad reality is that they had a fine opportunity to set a record and overtake Chelsea’s 95 points, from José Mourinho’s first title-winning side in 2005, but that chance is now gone. The game could have gone either way in the second half but it was an erratic performance from the champions. Indeed as monentous as some of the bad moments have been this season, it’s rare occasion when they look as disheveled and disoriented as they had in the opening 40 minutes.

I don’t mean to belabor this issue again and again, but, really, how is it that, despite being so close to London, the ruling class at the F.A. and by virtue of always having their noses up in the air and always out of joint, and thus, by implication, closer to God, why do Arsenal have no dignity or class? Poisoning Spurs’ buffet on the night before a crucial last match of the season over fourth place in 2007 typifies how they operate. Their willingness to form a guard escorting the champions on to the field was, their manager said, a sample of just how sportsmanlike they were. Yet any good will ended there as, clearly having noticed what everybody else has also clearly taken advantage of this season, that this current United squad, although massively talented, is both physically and emotionally the weakest Manchester United have fielded ever. Indeed, having been beaten up plenty this season, winning the championship surely is even more of an achievement. Taking one’s lumps goes with the territory. We understand that. Nevertheless, the petty acts of sly, underhanded , off-the-ball skulduggery perpetuated by Les Gooners and willfully turned a blind eye to by Phil Dowd should be duly noted by United fans. No matter what, I pray that Sir Alex Ferguson buys at least one player who is familiar with the dark arts of the game for next season. Those who doubt me might tune in to Bayern’s Champions Cup steamrollering of Barcelona. The natural toughness and adaptability of a certain Javíer Martinez they bought for 50m euros from Athletic Bilbao had made a world of difference to them which the Gaffer shouldnote

And so, finally, picture Theo in his parents basement in Compton, Berkshire. Still staring at the same newspaper cutout of Rio, only now it’s attached to a mirror and he’s wearing boxing gloves.
“You talkin’’ to me? You talkin’’ to me, Rio? Offside? Rubbish.” He throws a combination at the mirror. “Is there anyone else in this room?”
Arsenal v Manchester United Premier League 1858663 1 Arsenal: If it Wasnt For No Class, They Wouldnt Have No Class At All!

*”Show them that inside the heart of my doll-boys is the heart of a warrior!”

The Beautiful Number 20!

 Posted by on April 24, 2013 at 12:27 pm  Aston Villa, Blogs/Media, England, Manchester United
Apr 242013
 

Manchester United 3-0 Aston Villa
Manchester United celebra 006 The Beautiful Number 20!Ah! Where to begin? Twenty minutes after the end of the match Sir Alex Ferguson is bowing to the Stretford End while, across the field, Robin Van Persie is encircled by the Dutch press, both of them serenaded by Queen’s We Are the Champions. Is this the same crowd–most of them clad in the green and yellow striped scarves of M.U.S.T. protest–that has repeatedly voiced so much ambivalence about their manager’s unrelenting support for the club’s American owners, the Glazer family? On the night, resentments have been set to one side. They adore him and he adores them back. As with most families. The relationships may be fractious and sometimes truculent, but the club is beloved by all in their own way and winning the championship back is sweet to all and sundry.
Meanwhile, Robin Van Persie is being adored and assaulted with questions by a Nederlander press corps he talks to on a first name basis. An old aquaintance from Rotterdam, Henk Van Sleewanhoek, who has , I’m told, been his tormenter since leaving Arsenal for United instead of (the journo’s preference) Juventus gets the most attention.
“Did you ever think you’d come out of your dry spell of terrible misses?” the cheeky writer asks.
“I was worried,” says Robin. “I was not sleeping.”
“So this hat-trick you scored must feel fantastic.”
“I have never been so happy, This is my greatest day ever as a player and the first time in my career I have ever won a championship. No thanks to you, Henk!”
I only mention all this because I caught it all on the iPad of a Dutch friend. A long time mate and a fellow United fan, Jaapie has been following Van Persie’s career since way before he signed for Feyenoord in the Eredvisie. With a history of never ever having played a full season of football until last season’s contract year, Van Persie had been thought of as an inconsistently brilliant. An awesome talent who, like his compatriot, Arjen Robben, was unable or unwilling to play through pain. United paid a fee of £24m and wages of £220,000 per week for a player who was too often hurt and it seemed like no bargain at all, especially because he was taking up a place in the squad vacated by the departure to Fulham of Ferguson’s grand folly, the consistently inconsistent Dimitar Berbatov. Well, we were as wrong can be! Van Persie has been as brilliant as a newly discovered sun appearing in the firmament out of some black hole. Beyond the spectacular goals he has scored is his place as the best Manchester United table-setter I have ever seen. A brilliant taker of corners and free-kicks his clever linkup play has been instrumental in the improvement of Wayne Rooney, who is now a more complete player than ever before; Javíer Hernandéz, who is becoming better and better at screening the ball and setting up teammates; even the sometimes out-of-control ungainly presence of Danny Welbeck has been much improved by playing in his proximity.
Robin Van Persie celebrat 003 The Beautiful Number 20!

Of course, there were hints of this at the last World Cup. Especially when RVP, alongside Wesley Sneijder and Rafael Van Der Vart dismantled Brazil’s self-anointed Samba machine. A great player for the great occasion, Van Persie arrived at Old Trafford on Monday afternoon about as ready as ready has ever been. Having won the championship nineteen times and having blown it big-time a year ago on, of all things, goal average, United played like a team of destiny. This has not always been the case over a surprisingly inconsistent season, but United wanted to clinch at home, especially considering next week away match away at United’s long time rivals Arsenal, who just happen, in case you live in a vacuum and don’t know, to be Robin Van Persie’s old club. Primed and prepareed, thy were a red steamroller determined to be reunited with their trophy. And with Robin van Persie playing at his maximum exquisite artistic best, it seemed apt and altogether natural that he would completely dominate the match. Indeed, it felt appropriate that the Dutchman should be so transcendent and dominant on the night.

Van Persie might not win the individual honors but he has certainly had the greatest impact of any player on the Premier League this season and his first-half hat-trick, taking him to 24 league goals, saw him leapfrogging Luis Suárez as the leading scorer in the division. And having just been suspended from playing for ten games after a biting offense against Chelsea’s Bronislav Ivanovic in Sunday’s 2-2 tie, Suarez will clearly not win this year’s Golden Boot award. Such accolades and awards are well deserved by Van Persie who is clearly the best striker playing in England. In the match, he was everything, the warhead of United’s multi-faceted attacking game, a constant menace. It seems absurd to think that making it feel like a trick of the imagination that only one week ago he was overreacting to chances, devastated by a short, debilitating patch where he couldn’t score.

Going in with a 13-point lead, Ferguson set the team up with Wayne Rooney as its play making fulcrum. Inspired as much as Van Persie, it seems, Rooney was both a bodyguard for the brilliant-but-brittle Michael Carrick and an inspired passer. If Paul Lambert’s pack of young midfield jackals pressed him, Rooney would execute short and square to the Geordie greyhound. If they tried to cut off Carrick, Rooney was ready and waiting to ping Ginger Prince-style long, probing chip shots from United’s half. And poor Villa, who have let in a grand nightmare total of 64 goals this season were simply powerless to resist.

Two minutes in and Manchester United needed to be nervous no more. A long seeing-eye pass from Rooney found Antonio Valencia on the right. Rafael Da Silva swept up behind the Ecuadorian in support, jinking this way and that toward Villa’s box before finding the Old Master, Ryan Giggs, at the far post. Giggs casually squared his cross into Van Persie’s path out of a clawing Brad Guzan’s reach and, only two steps off the goal line, the Dutchman fired a simple tapper home.
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Villa were already gob smacked and semi-destroyed. Four minutes later. Surrounded after picking up a Carrick chip, RVP fired a thirty-yarder of a volley over Guzan’s bar by a bare inch. He was just warming up. however. As if on cue, eleven minutes later, Rooney and van Persie gave us a bit of oo-wah-wow up there with Cantona and the blessed Trinity. Wazza dished up a superb curving chip that Van Persie somehow timed his run onto with a perfect moment of synchronization for the ages. Looking up, he somehow calculated the spinning trajectory of the ball and his perfect left-footed volley, as pure a piece of combined power and execution as I’ll ever see, went flying past Villa’s frozen, open mouthed goalie into the net. Did anyone ever make it look so simple? What followed, his victory run from one end of the pitch to the other with a victorious arm raised, really was the stuff of which legends are made.

For most of the half, Manchester united was a thing of beauty. Giggs repeatedly mugging and nutmegging poor Matthew Lowton. Carrick and Rooney grinning as the crowd sang their songs between marvelous examples of the passer’s art, ran Villa ragged. The sight of Giggsy out sprinting a player sixteen years his junior was the stuff of dreams. And in the midst of a familiar Stretford End serenade about Le Maitre Cantona, the Red Devils struck again.

33 minutes in, Rooney and the casually fluid Shinji Kagawa double one-two’d it in midfield and Giggs was free and clear of his marker Ron Vlar on the left. Robin Van Persie picked up his cross, snaked past Brad Guzan, and utilizing his brilliantly cool, cruel acumen, ignoring the four defenders around him, feinted toward a sprinting Lowton, shifted his balance to his right and pushed the ball home.

To the chagrin of many of the celebrating fans, United eased off the accelerator from then on. The boys taking it light and easy, especially after the interval. Villa launched themselves back into things and, even though they own no worthwhile defensive quality beyond the Job-like sufferings of Ron Vlar, Paul Lambert’s kids gave it a good go. Indeed, Ferguson was angry enough at Patrice Evra for repeatedly fouling a wing-heeled Kieran Westwood and receiving a yellow card that he ventured early to the touchline and gestured both his disapproval at his fading left back and his suddenly lackadaisical teammates. Indeed, Evra, already booked, was way beyond lucky that the referee, Anthony Taylor, did not punish a pair of brutal tackles from behind on both N’Zogbia and Weimann. Van Persie even became a defensive hero late in the match when he headed away a superb shot from Andreas Weimann off the goal line.

From then on it was all party. And clearly, had United put their war faces on again, many more goals could have been scored. Still, both Rooney and Kagawa saw their shots rattle off the bar. Having clinched with the win at home against Villa following Manchester City’s loss to Tottenham Hotspur, the challenge now, with four matches left is to beat out Chelsea’s best ever Premier League tally of 96 points.lRobin van Persie 002 The Beautiful Number 20!

De Gea Gets Hammered!

 Posted by on April 18, 2013 at 2:36 pm  Blogs/Media, England, From the GFT Blogs, Global Football Today, Manchester United, West Ham United
Apr 182013
 

W e s t H a m United 2 -2 M a n c h e s t e r U n i t e d
67074426 robin vanpersie getty1 De Gea Gets Hammered!Is there anything left for Manchester United to play for? United only need some combination of their own wins and losses and Manchester City losses and draws that make seven points to clinch the Premier League championship. Rhetorically, however, the players say that they want to win the Premier League in historic style–despite these dropped points–and overtake Chelsea’s record of 95 points in 2004-05. So there was plenty to play for when Sir Alex Ferguson’s Red Devils stepped out from the tunnel at the Upton Park Cockney noise cauldron against the claret-and-blue kings of the Mile End Road. The fact is that’s never easy at the Boleyn Ground. Those who think Planet Ingerland goes soft South of Wolverhampton need to think again.

West Ham were definitely intent on making it difficult for the Red Devils. Well managed by the veteran Sam Allardyce this season, they have bounced back from a season in the Championship Division with a visible hunger. Performing with a consistently visible edge, the Hammers play consistently well at home, maintaining a position in mid table. Allardyce, maintaining his same-old predilection for putting teams of overachieving, long-ball bruisers out there, just as he has previously done in stints at Bolton Wanderers and Blackburn Rovers and much less successfully at Newcastle United, gets the job done by recruiting cheap veterans and young big club rejects. And although West Ham are not at all easy on the eye for their fanatic fans, their lack of finesse has been countered by the kind of ruthless acumen which keeps the fans fear of relegation at bay. A lot of Hammer fans don’t like Allardyce’s style but beggars can’t be choosers in the ruthless jungle that is the Premiership and, more importantly, his players are behind him. Big Sam’s tactics against his old friendly rival, Sir Alex Ferguson saw Mohammed Diamé and Kevin Nolan play high and hard against United’s defensive midfielders, Phil Jones and Michael Carrick, while their loan striker, big Andy Carroll, used his huge body as a battering room against United’s goalkeeper David De Gea and an aging center back combination of Rio Ferdinand and Nemanja Vidic. Allardyce has made West Ham both truculent and competitive. With the referee Lee Probert not even the slightest bit interested in blowing his whistle, Carroll went ruthlessly about feeding the three a diet of head-butts, elbows and WWF-style grappling. Accompanied by an aerial bombardment from wingers Ricardo Vaz Té and Matty Jarvis, who took turns humiliating United’s past-it left back Patrice Evra to the point where he resembled the Gimp in Pulp Fiction, United realized they were truly up against it from the get-go.

Indeed, Carroll lads put the stick out there so ruthlessly well that Ferguson spent much of the match verbally haranguing the match’s fourth official, André Marriner, and his cloth-eared boss, the referee Lee Probert, especially after Carroll rendered him glassy-eyed with a sucker-elbow after a 45th-minute corner. Indeed, De Gea had his busiest day ever in a United kit after an early Carroll shot smashed the outside of the far post and venomous snakelike machinations of Vaz Té saw the Spanish custodian make two brilliant saves.

United were not so much on the ropes as being calculatedly lazy and laid back early on. Such tactics are always risky for a team schooled to play in a run-and-gun-style, however. Seventeen minutes in, after a lackadaisical Rooney lost the ball in the opposition box, Diamé stole away with the ball, and played a pair of one-twos with Jarvis, who fed Carroll. Carroll steamrollered Ferdinand, simply shrugging the veteran defender off before slipping the ball back out to Jarvis on the wing. The clever ex-Wolves winger then fired it back toward De Gea’s far post. Diamé met the ball, but fired only a mistimed chip toward goal. Meanwhile, brushing aside Evra, Carroll charged in, pushing the loose ball low toward Vaz Té, who dived to ground and forced a header past a flailing De Gea..

United were never on the ropes. per sé, but with Rooney poor up front and seemingly much less comfortable than in his masterful midfield display against Stoke at the weekend, Phil Jones and Michael Carrick were simply out hustled by Diamé and the ageless Kevin Nolan. When the equalizer did come, in the 30th minute, it was a bit of a surprise and definitely against the run of play. Mostly wasted on the left wing, Shinji Kagawa was finally cheeky enough to dance his way inside and pirouette hither and thither with the ball before flicking a perfect dish for a simple side-footed finish by Antonio Valencia from two feet out

In the second half, clearly coached by Ferguson to maintain their slow-build tactics with a view to wearing the Hammers to a frazzle, United slowly began to dominate the rest of the match. Yet football is a game full of ironies and despite owning the lion’s share of quality and possession, Fergie’s boys walked into a custard pie in the 55th minute when Vaz Tê and Guy Demel shucked and jived past a jelly-legged Evra before working the ball to a waiting Mohammed Diamé at the corner of the penalty area. Diamé spun in and around Rooney before casually firing an exquisite curved left-footed shot past De Gea to make it 2-1.

Dominant from then on, it was just a matter of time before Van Persie scored his 25th goal of the season. Just how Shinji Kagawa managed to nip into the box in the 77th minute and give Reid, Collins and Nolan the slip it’s difficult to tell. Nevertheless, a Kagawa shot bounced off James Collins, ricocheting off both posts before a marauding ever-so-slightly offside Robin Van Persie blasted home the equalizer. It was a bad call from the assistant referee but clearly far less shocking than the decision by the collected officials to repeatedly let Andy Carroll try to turn David De Gea into a vegetable. Indeed, it was sort of amusing to watch Sam Allardyce impersonate a red-faced toddler dispossessed of his toys in a way that we are more used to seeing happen with the Dark Lord Ferg on occasions.

With a Monday home game looming against Aston Villa at Old Trafford, United will be facing yet another team fighting for survival with its back to the wall. Coupled with a looming trip to the Emirates to face another favorite of the officials in a schizophrenic Arsenal side. Reaching a goal of 96 points still, somehow, seems to the least of our worries.

Most encouraging of all on a so-so day, however, was the splendid bravery of David De Gea. Battered and humiliated by Everon’s Marouane Fellaini in the first match of the season, the young Spaniard has gone through the process of a ruthless apprenticeship this season. Well and truly bullied by the gorilla-style tactics of Andy Carroll, De Gea took his punishment well, avoided retaliation and stood his ground. Still doubted by a few cynical blowhards, no doubt, De Gea looks to now have earned his laurels as an apt successor to the legendary Edwin Van Der Sar.

Ferguson Clinches 900th Win!

 Posted by on April 15, 2013 at 7:19 pm  Blogs/Media, England, From the GFT Blogs, Global Football Today, Manchester United, Stoke City
Apr 152013
 

Stoke City 0-2 Manchester United
Robin van Persie celebrat 010 Ferguson Clinches 900th Win!A joyful late afternoon’s work for Manchester United at the Britannia Stadium despite biting, gusting winds. Having lost three points off their 15-point lead in a loss to Manchester City a week ago, their relaxed victory over a Stoke City side that has stumbled badly toward the end of the season soothed a lot of frayed nerves. Additionally, Robin van Persie, a powerhouse for United throughout the season, ended what has been a two month long long late-season goal drought after scoring with a penalty kick. Now that United only need seven points to clinch, matches on Wednesday against West Ham United and a week Monday at home versus Aston Villa loom large. Indeed, the Red Devils may well already know their destiny by the time they visit Arsenal at the Emirates on April 28..

For Sir Alex Ferguson, for whom it was the 900th career victory, there was a certain kind of redemption after a number of his match stratagems in recent team losses to Real Madrid, Chelsea and Manchester City had failed miserably. Simply unable to drop his exhausted talismanic central midfielder Michael Carrick, but clearly distrustful when it came to the input of squad midfielders Tom Cleverley, Anderson or veterans Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs, the Gaffer moved his stocky star English striker Wayne Rooney back into central midfield alongside Carrick. Carrick who has definitely been spooked by the physical tactics repeatedly and ruthlessly used against him by the opposition, was visibly much comforted by the protective proximity of Rooney. Meanwhile, behind them, United’s center backs, Rio Ferdinand and Nemanja Vidic dominated at the back against Tony Pulis’ Potters. This was a bit of a surprise in that Stoke are easily the tallest team in the division, custom built for scoring off the long ball and set pieces. Unfortunately, lacking their tricky winger, Matty Etherington, and his box of tricks full of lobs and clever passing because of injury, Pulis’ team were toothless

Stoke were dreadful from the get-go. Giving up a set piece goal in only the fourth minute, the tall Stoke back line fell into an instantaneous state of malfunction. After Ryan Wootton gave up a corner, Van Persie’s inswinging corner glanced off Kenwyne Jones as Geoff Cameron blocked Phil Jones’s deft second attempt before Carrick was on the spot to prod the loose ball past goalie Asmir Begovic.

Only Robert Huth came close to equalizing for the Potters with a header off a Glenn Whelan free-kick but that was a rare Stoke chance during a slow first half in which United coasted and stayed relaxed on their back foot. And although veterans Evra, Fedinand and Vidic all started to look more than a tad leggy late on, the high work rate of Rooney and Phil Jones made light of their deficiencies. Consequently, 65 minutes in, after the number of hacking fouls showed just how much more tired the whole Stoke team were by comparison. With United slowly, grindingly backing Stoke up toward their own box, and, after Nzonze unnecessarily hacked down Rooney, the Scouser’s pass to Van Persie set the Dutchman free in the box. Nevertheless, RVP was in no way close to putting himself into a scoring position while dribbling the ball. This did not stop a worn-down Andy Wilkinson from panicking and ruthlessly hacking him down, however, and the referee, Jon Moss, showed no doubt whatsoever in pointing to the penalty spot. Guessing correctly, goalie Amir Begovic came close to stopping Van Persie’s spot kick, but the veteran striker hit it just perfectly to the lower left corner where it squeezed home to make it 2-0.

In what was definitely one of the more joyous moments for Manchester United this season, an ecstatic Robin Van Persie heard the touring Red Army singing out his name as he did a jig before running toward his manager while he stood gesturing happily on the sidelines. What followed was a spontaneous bear hug from the burly Netherlander that almost knocked the canny old Scot off his feet. “He nearly killed me! He forgets I’m 71,” Ferguson said after the match. It was a lovely moment. All the more resonant to me because no one who loves the game could conceivably imagine Van Persie ever doing the same thing to his old manager Arsene Wenger at Arsenal.
66999180 017737973 1 Ferguson Clinches 900th Win!

Dire Red Devils Disappoint in Derby!

 Posted by on April 10, 2013 at 12:31 pm  Blogs/Media, England, EPL, Manchester City, Manchester United
Apr 102013
 

Manchester United 1-2 Manchester City
Rafael cant find a way pa 011 Dire Red Devils Disappoint in Derby!That nasty little bugger did it to to us again! Sergio ‘Kun’ Agüero, having been the assassin’s knife almost a year ago when City beat Q.P.R.. in the ebbing moments of injury time in the final game of the season to clinch the Premier League championship on goal average, did the dirty deed to Manchester United yet again. It was a marvelous goal, the result of an incredible off-balance run through a wall of four determined defenders after picking up a superb seeing-eye pass from Yaya Touré. United’s goalkeeper, David De Gea, who had very little work to do on the night, simply didn’t have a chance as Agüero, despite being surrounded at an acute angle and bent at his lowest possible point of gravity, blasted a hard-right footer into the roof of the net. A minor miracle of pure will, it illustrated once again the difference between a weak-willed, arrogant, indifferent, error-prone Manchester United team and opponents who, although they may not actually be superior, have proven to be more resolute, committed and strategically superior.

After having their fifteen point lead at the top of the P.L. table cut down to twelve, United are tripping over their flaccid todgers deep into Lord Ferg’s squeaky-bum time. Yet, despite all their euphoric hysteria and spending 300 million pounds sterling building an instantaneous contender into last year’s champions, City have flattered to deceive throughout a season of interior discontent and flux., their supporters must wonder why their mercenary players could not have shown such drive and togetherness more often. Yet the fact is that United–in the moments when they executed their usual run-and-gun-style tactics still caused City to wobble. And although the Gaffer repeatedly refers to fatigue as the problem, the club’s difficulties have more to do with psychology and tactics than the quality of their opponents. Ferguson may indeed have called Robin van Persie’s performance “fantastic” but the Dutch striker, in spite of more than a few moments of pure inspiration, was just as disappointing as a moping Wayne Rooney., whose most useful moment on the pitch was a hard, two-footed, studs-up challenge on James Milner. Milner, who City’s manager Roberto Mancini seems to coach into a snarling manifestation of Lucifer before each derby match, had a brilliant day, bullying Ashley Young–whose most memorable moments were spent grimacing on the grass from nonexistent fouls and Michael Carrick, who played like a cranky sleep-deprived child in need of a cup of Horlicks and a Farley’s rusk. Their partner in midfield Ryan Giggs simply had a bad day. And although the clock has clearly run down and close to out for Giggsy’s teammate, Paul Scholes, the Welshman simply had an off one. What seemed like a very logical move, removing Young and Giggs, for the possibility of more effectiveness in introducing Nani and Shinji Kagawa after the match was tied, never took place. Doubtless, Rooney was not in a scoring mood, but the advantages of moving him back to protect a wincing, clearly debilitated Carrick seemed obvious.

At any rate, it took until six minutes into the second half after mostly cautious play by both sides before City seized the advantage. Gareth Barry, who did little throughout proceedings but ankle-tap Welbeck and Rooney, had the presence of mind to pick off a dreadfully telegraphed Giggs pass. He squared it to Nasri and Milner’s left-foot shot took a difficult deflection off Phil Jones past a wrong-footed De Gea’s stretched-out right hand.

City’s defense, which has often disappointed this season, looked after a repeatedly shaky Joe Hart well. That is until the 59th minute when Hart read an exquisite curving Robin Van Persie free kick wrong. Well-beaten, Hart took off to block Phil Jones at the far post, only for Jones to miss the header and have the ball squib into the net off his shoulder and then off the the back of Vincent Kompany.

From then on, the handbags came out and, depending upon whether you believe captains and managers should be the ones who try to deal with the officials in the old school manner, or not. City don’t. City were heavily involved in a relentless attempt to intimidate the referee, a clearly jittery Mike Dean. Ferguson and Evra chose to do little while Mancini simply harangued Dean. Later, when when Rio Ferdinand opted to play on despite David Silva being ‘injured,’ Kun Agüero had a long hissy-fit where he, too, verbally abused Dean. Later, Giggs and Barry grappled over a rough tackle, which led to a sort of halfhearted melée. And although nothing violent actually took place, both Dean’s reticence and Evra’s ineffectivety as a team leader added needless extra emotion to the proceedings.

With the game looking more and more like an acceptable draw to both sides, Mancini brought on his mighty atom Agüero. Eight minutes later,Yaya Touré slipped the ball to Agüero inside a crowded box and the Argentine striker located a hole, sprinted, dummied Rafael, zigzagging left to right through Welbeck, Jones and Ferdinand before hitting his brilliant winner.

Last, but not least, with more or less everybody putting in a lackluster performance, Phil Jones looked to have finally cemented a spot as second center half at the expense of Jonny Evans, Chris Smalling and his partner on the night Rio Ferdinandfor next season. Had he not been forced to deal with a desperately increased workload once Rio got tired and leggy toward the end the match, Jones did well against both Carlos Tevez and Agüero and, now and again, up against big Edin Dzeko. His bulk and work ethic will be very much needed in the match against the extra-large Stoke City crew next Sunday.
Robin van Persie leaps be 004 Dire Red Devils Disappoint in Derby!

The Wages of Apathy: Manchester United Stumble Out of the F.A.Cup at Stamford Bridge

 Posted by on April 3, 2013 at 7:54 am  Blogs/Media, Chelsea, England, F.A. Cup, Global Football Today, Manchester United
Apr 032013
 

Chelsea 1-0 Manchester United
cesc 1702785a The Wages of Apathy: Manchester United Stumble Out of the F.A.Cup at Stamford BridgeAfter playing a dire, miserable game of low-risk football, Chelsea and their manager Rafael Benïtez look forward to an F.A. Cup semifinal against Manchester City while a yawning Manchester United, clearly complacent about having the Premier League Championship completely locked up, looked hungrily toward returning home to their Cheshire mansions where they could text-message their brokers and read travel brochures. Outplayed and intimidated in equal parts, the whole nightmare scenario for millions of United fans worldwide was repeatedly personified in the way which both Michael Carrick and Tom Cleverley winced and turned their bodies aside rather than challenge Chelsea’s dynamic midfield enforcer, Obi Mikel Jon, who gave neither one any quarter in midfield. To fold, mutilate and spindle an old cliché: It’s not the fight in the poodle, but the poodle in the fight! And this poodle was a pussy!

Did somebody say this was going to be a classic dog fight? With Chelsea only 22 points behind United in the P.L.? As Russell Brand put it, Roman Abramovich had a harder time getting a crew of his thugs to help Boris Berezovsky hang himself than United gave Chelsea. Indeed, having given away a two goal lead to United in the first F.A.. Cup Quarterfinal game at Old Trafford, they deserve a lot of kudos. Such endurance is applaudable in a young team in transition, especially considering the disheartening loss of its fine young manager Roberto Di Matteo. and despite the hiring of a sad-sack yes-man hack manager in the rotund shape of Rafael Benitez, they have persevered. More often than not left to try and fail minus the presence of old-school leaders Frank Lampard and John Terry, they have found a new backbone in the tough-mindedness of Brazilians David Luiz and Ramires, who perform with a passion alongside the underrated Mikel. I mention all this not because I’m a Chelsea fan but because, by comparison, although United have a more or less an equal number of high-quality performers to the much celebrated Oscar, Eden Hazard and Juan Mata, we have no warriors of our own save a worn-down, psychologically-troubled Patrice Evra and the tiny Rafael Di Silva who can be admired when there is so much negativity swirling around the club.

Although others my disagree and find the winning of a 20th championship plenty of reward, any absurd notion that this United squad is up there by comparison with the treble-winning team of 1998-1999 is imbibing opiates.

One thing is for sure. It was an absolutely out of this world goal by Demba Ba which turned Stamford Bridge’s Easter Monday into a party and basically saw United instantaneously throw in the towel. Thus, four minutes into the second half, Juan Mata, who had looked tired and jaded throughout the first half, shimmied about with the ball in the left central corner of the box before firing an exquisite tumbling floater as he simultaneously ghosted his way around Rio Ferdinand. As good as this chipped beauty was, just how Ba managed to stretch his full body diagonally to reach the ball and manage to hook it on the volley past a fully extended David De Gea is amazing to contemplate.

Just how totally United capitulated after the goal was scored is shocking to contemplate, yet no more surprising than the aftermath of surrender against Real Madrid after the issuing of a red card by a nakedly biassed referee. The incident, although it’s only a few weeks back. seems like it has turned into United’s customized version of the movie Groundhog Day.Is it possible that our beloved club has been overwhelmed by the ascension of a dominant group of weak-minded quitters? Indeed, the post-match rantings of the team’s captain Patrice Evra, “I was certain we could not lose and I still do not believe it,” are the words of a man unfit for leadership, not the skipper of one of the world’s top football teams.

My bread and butter comes from analysis, so looking back at the first half surely offers clues. One is that Chelsea’s goalie, Peter Cech, made a stupendous save off Javíer Hernandez that defied the laws of gravity. How so sweet a cross from the otherwise consistently awful Nani reached little Chicharito after some deft interaction was put together by Carrick and Cleverley was marvelous to behold. The little Mexican’s header was an arching work of art, so how could it be that vast bulk of Cech was able to twist like a one-handed reflexive human pretzel and, miraculously, save the day(dare I say it?) like a captain.

And thus it was Cech’s monstrous hand that wrote on Sir Alex Ferguson’s wall. United have not won the F.A. Cup since 2004 and this showing has to have yanked the old man’s reality chain. I am not one for using the tiredness excuse but both Cleverley and Carrick have been forced to play too much now that Scholes seems to have finally lost the ability to play more than twenty minutes and Anderson suffers from the same problems of stamina and repeated injury. No wonder Carrick looks wiped out! Valencia, too, looked exhausted and Nani seemed intent on acting the fool, a sort of Cape Verdean manifestation of latter-day Mr. Beane. Phil Jones, who always looks like he’s on the verge of somehow doing something seemed lost in midfield, perhaps so intimidated by the effortless power and bullying assurance of Obi Mikel Jon that he became a passive observer.

Our brilliant puppy striker Danny Welbeck was all enthusiasm and no bite. As with playing for England earlier in the week, every time the lad would scoop up the ball and enter into his long stride, it felt like this time would be different. A lot is being made of Robin Van Persie’s run of bad luck in front of goal and perhaps he shouldn’t have started against Sunderland, but the kind of hard work and pure graft his attacking teammates put out there for him in the first two-thirds of the season is gone. Indeed, although there are already whispers that he will not be missed by the Gaffer if he leaves, the passion of the injured Wayne Rooney is irreplaceable. Without Rooney on his shoulder and no consistent service from Carrick, Young, Nani or Valencia, RVP seemed lost in search of balls that were never coming his way me. His one good chance was a volley which he blasted over the bar into the crowd in the 87th minute. Too little, too late.

Thus, a week from now, the derby game against Manchester City looks like it looms more important in the minds of its fans than their team. A loss to the sky-blue Abu Dhabian rent boys would definitely, at this point, hold more dread in it for those who truly love the club rather than those ho see it as just a receptacle for a paycheck.
cesc 1702785a The Wages of Apathy: Manchester United Stumble Out of the F.A.Cup at Stamford Bridge

Merciless Manchester United Bleed Mackems to A Slow Death

 Posted by on April 1, 2013 at 12:03 am  Blogs/Media, England, Manchester United, Sunderland
Apr 012013
 

Sunderland 0-1 Manchester United
Sunderlands Titus Bramble 006 Merciless Manchester United Bleed Mackems to A Slow DeathA relaxed, albeit dispassionate Manchester United took one more baby step in its inexorable march on the yellow brick road that will the winning of their 20th league title with a comfortable victory at Sunderland over a depressed, decrepitude-riddled Sunderland side. Indeed, so doom-laden was the pitch before, during and after a singularly boredom-ridden match that no one will be surprised to hear that the  Mackems popular manager Martin O’Neill was fired by its impatient, mostly absentee American owner Ellis Short minutes after the end of the match. Having slipped into seventeenth place, the prospect of relegation looms large for the North-Easterners. And while United’s manager Sir Alex Ferguson has been very vocal about the ill effects caused by ‘absentee landlord’-type owners like Short, he never once allowed his tired team to take its foot off the accelerator on its ruthless way to more three more points and a clean sheet.

Truth be told, O’Neill’s Mackems’ never genuinely threatened to find a way through the Red Devils’ defense. Having gone without conceding a goal in the P.L. for 627 minutes, Ferguson was downright bubbly and effusive in praise of his oft criticized back line. Despite sometimes being sloppy to the point of slovenliness, especially in the second half, United found one goal was enough to get the job done. With both an F.A.. Cup Quarter Final looming on Monday at Stamford Bridge against Chelsea and a Premier League top two derby on Monday week. against Manchester City looming, Ferguson picked more than a few squaddies in Anderson, Alexander Büttner, Chris Smalling and Ashley Young. Unfortunately for Sunderland, with the delicate touch-play of Danny Graham leading the line instead of the more robust but injured Steven Fletcher, Sunderland only managed to muster two shots on United’s goal over the whole game and only one which even slightly tested goalie David De Gea.

Keeping the ball in an uncharacteristically consistent way, United, instead of using their usual mix of express run-and-gun followed by relaxed periods of retention and embarrassing loss, kept the tempo low and comfy. With Carrick and Anderson planted in front of Fergie’s back four spraying passes, it was just a matter of time before the Black Cats cracked at the seams. The stalemate was broken in the 25th minute after a sharp-looking Robin Van Persie dribbled his way past a hastily retreating Phil Bardsley on the left side of the box before hammering a venom-infused pile-driver which bounced off Bardsley, then deflected into the net off Bramble past a completely fooled Simone . It was surely a big lift for Van Persie, who has mournfully gone through the small crisis of not scoring in seven games for United, despite its being  officially recorded as a Bramble own goal.

Little else of incident happened beyond United’s traveling fans trilling happily. despite an accidental midair collision of heads between Vidic and De Gea and some bad luck for right back Rafael Da Silva, who had to hobble off the pitch with a groin problem on the cusp of half-time., so that Jonny Evans came on as a substitute, moving into the middle next to Vidic as Chris Smalling switched to the right. On the night, United’s man-of-the-match turned out to be left back Alexander Büttner, who worked well throughout well with Ashley Young and came close to scoring twice, with fierce twenty-yard efforts which Mignolet did well to turn aside for corners. Fast and muscular, Büttner looks like a worthy successor to an aging Patrice Evra. Clever wingers can still turn him around a little too easily perhaps, but the young Dutchmman shows much promise.

In an equally dull second half, although Sunderland saw a little more of the ball, they still seemed to b a toothless threat throughout, unable to muster any attempt to score until a 90th minute shot by Connor Wickham saw David De Gea stretch.

A last note for you stat and history freaks. Manchester United are now the first team in English top flight history to have won 25 of their first 30 league games in a season. A win over Manchester City a week from now would surely be the icing on the cake and a clincher after losing out on goal average to City a year ago. As for the Sunderland fans who cheered so vociferously after watching their own team lose to United. and then witnessed City’s questionable injury-time turnaround victory over Q.P.R., the irony of looming relegation surely bit deep a season later.

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