Victories at Villa Park haven’t been difficult in years for United and this one was almost a route, because , simply put, Villa’s unconvincing Yobbo act served to motivate rather than intimidate United. Moyes pretty much got a good performance from everybody barring a leggy Evra. Particularly satisfying was the performance of the often unfathomable, but undeniably gifted striker Danny Welbeck, who had, up to Sunday’s match, repeatedly been a disappointment all season. Welbeck scored twice–his first goals in the Premier League for United since the opening day of the season–within a three minute period and the relief, to Welbeck himself, the manager, his teammates and the fans was clearly visible. Additionally, on a raw late Brum afternoon, Tom Cleverley, who has now flattered to deceive for United for around three seasons, notched up his first goal of the season. Best of all, if you’ve been embarrassed by United’s clear lack of technique and guts in midfield, the sight of Darren Fletcher returning to the team in the 70th minute as a substitute for Ryan Giggs was a sight for sore eyes after two years off caused by ulcerative colitis.

Their first victory in five matches put them up a place on the league ladder to eighth. Indeed an angry United salved their bruises of the body and the ego with an effortless dominance. Only a ridiculous profligacy in front of goal by Rooney, Welbeck and Cleverley prevented United from easily scoring eight or nine goals. Weird that they had started the game low in confidence, punchy from relentless criticism from the usual pundits, convinced by the fickle majority that they were cruising for a third PL loss in a row. Yet, by the end of the match, United were passing the ball around with the old virile swagger as the traveling red army warbled happily through their Christmas songbook. Indeed with fixtures against Stoke City, West Ham United, Hull City and Norwich before the transfer window opens up in January, things may really, actually be looking up.

The truth is that Villa, having attempted the thuggish approach, simply quit after Welbeck put United ahead in the 15th minute. The bruised Rafael and his intimidating Ecuadorian right-wing partner Antonio Valencia, utterly humiliated both Antonio Luna and his pivot back-up Nathan Baker who were about as useful to Villa as a couple of tree stumps.

Welbeck’s goal famine came to an end as Rafael da Silva wriggled clear of Nathan Baker despite his holding on to his shirt with both hands. The Brazilian fired a fine cross off his laces which an unmarked Januzaj headed hard against the far post. The ball then rebounded into Welbeck’s path and he volleyed home from six yards. A bare 180 seconds later, the gormless Nathan Baker carelessly allowed Januzaj to steal the ball off his toe 45 yards out from Villa’s goal. Januzaj, brilliant once again, nattily found Cleverley and he found Welbeck. A sweet one-two followed between Valencia and Welbeck. Valencia was off to the races then, accompanied neck and neck from the inside by Welbeck. A low cutback followed and the England international striker slid the ball into the corner of the net while Villa’s American goalie Brad Guzan remained static and frozen.

Had United taken a succession of yawning chances before the half-time whistle blew it would have been a rugby score. Valencia repeatedly took an ineffectual Antonio Luna to school. He fashioned two chances out of nothing as the superb Wayne Rooney mistimed a shot off his pass an inch past the post; and, another as Welbeck executed a wind-sprint to catch up with a perfectly hit through ball from the Ecuadorian in the inside-right channel, which he over-hit, dragging the ball narrowly wide.

When the third United goal finally arrived six minutes into the second half, Antonio Luna’s tough day at the office transitioned into a nightmare as he gifted possession to Tom Cleverley on the edge of Villa’s box. The Yorkshireman traded passes with Rooney before double-dummying both Nathan Baker and Matthew Lowton before beating an advancing Guzan with a shot inside his near post.

Watching Lambert’s Villa team is instructional for those of us who wish upon a star for young British talent to be blooded in the Premier League. A fine player for the likes of Glasgow Celtic and Borussia Dortmund in his pomp, Lambert has worked his way up from the ham-and-egg world of the Second Division to the PL, one division at a time. Inheriting what had been the league’s finest youth team (save for United’s) in 2004-05 and 2005-06 was thought of by the so-called experts as offering Lambert a huge opportunity. Indeed players like Matt Lowton, Kieran Westwood, Ciaran Clark, Nathan Delfouneso and Nathan Baker were supposed to mix with brilliant newly acquired rising stars like Fabian Delph, Christian Benteke and Karim El Ahmedi and form a challenging, low-budget quality club that could compete well in the top ten. This has not happened. In much the same as United have produced lots of fine warriors who compete well in the championship Division like Luke Chadwick, James Chester, Matty James and Robbie Brady, Villa have suffered from the same problems. Atypically, against United’s Rafael Da Silva and Antonio Valencia, Baker, Westwood, Clark and Westwood were all found desperately wanting. As we’ve seen so many times, most young British and Irish players just tend to not measure up.

At any rate, it was, all in all, a good night for Manchester United. Nevertheless, the sheer volume of missed chances, especially by Danny Welbeck–despite having scored two goals–still gives food for thought. With a number of upcoming fixtures offering a lesser threat quotient, including Olympiakos in the European Champions’ Cup, David Moyes can perhaps use the time to make the ruthless decisions he needs to make between now and midnight on January 31, 2014

“You lot are finished, anyway,” he said. “It’s over. You lot are done.”

Nothing warms the wee cockles of my still-beating heart than deeply embittered City, Liverpool and Arsenal fans predicting, beyond, you know, our imminent temporary demise, that it’s over forever! Which isn’t to say that I haven’t been involved in a fair bit of binge, cringe and vomit of my own of late; but, as I say, having become a fan in 1957, I’ven repeatedly paid my fare at the turnstile and loved my red devils through thick and thin. This too shall pass, and whether it’s under the spiritual aegis of David Moyes or not, everything will ultimately be all right.

First things first, however, and this win over the Ukrainian champions, Shakhtar Donetsk, gives David Moyes a few hours breathing room before his feet are put in the fire again against Aston Villa on Sunday…

The strike that gave United their first victory of December was a moment of will-fuelled, half-volleyed inspiration from our dough-faced warrior Phil Jones in the 67th-minute. With our awesome crew of strikers undergoing a temporary collective crisis of form and confidence, just who gets it done hardly matters, provided the fatal deed gets done.

Although the seven point gap that lies between United and City for fourth place looms large in the Premier League table of the moment, we can only work our way back one match at a time. A win over the Ukrainian champions meant we did ourselves a huge favor, however, because now we will not have to play against any powerhouse favorites in the next round.

“We had a disappointing five days here at Old Trafford,” Moyes mused before kick-off, blinking repeatedly from the attention of photographers. It all gave me a certain daydreaming of a certain Dutch boy in red-white-&-black painted wooden clogs, standing there awkwardly looking at the press corps, who are all staring at his finger trapped inside a crack inside a dyke wall which no one acknowledges. “Prior to that we’d been on a healthy run and we now need to work hard to put together another sequence of good results. We are fully aware that we need to play better but on several occasions we have lacked a little bit of good fortune.”

Nice speech, ey? As with Dunkirk, the best British way is to act like nothing’s wrong and tap stout fellows like Phil Jones on the shoulder and tell them. “You’re it, bay-ba!”

Moyes, who Rio Ferdinand does himself no favors in publicly criticizing, picked his line-up just over an hour before kick-off. Robin van Persie was left on the bench, Nemanja Vidic, Patrice Evra, Chris Smalling, Danny Welbeck and Marouane Fellaini, and the long crocked Michael Carrick, who has an achilles injury, were all left out. With Januzaj, Kagawa, Young, Giggs and Rafael stroking the ball around there was reason for confidence. Phil Jones, partnering Ryan Giggs in central midfield, had an early go at goal, but Shakhtar’s goalkeeper Andriy Pyatov found it easy to collect.

That would be more or less the last attack United managed to mount in the first-half. Incapable of holding the ball and plagued by an inability to make a successful pass, United once again fell into a state of collective apathy. Shakhtar’s high-quality Brazilian core midfield led by Taison, Teixeira, Fred and the ever-dangerous Douglas, repeatedly ran United’s wobbly defense ragged, particularly right-back Rafael Da Silva and a perpetually marooned Rio Ferdinand. Just how and why Shakhtar’s technically brilliant Brazilian contingent couldn’t put the ball in the net is not simple to explain, but Rafael, Evans and De Gea were a bulwark of determined fortitude, despite the fact that the twinkle-toed, fleet-footed Teixeira managed to give the Brazilian right-back a torrid time. Perhaps it was because there were so many club and national scouts in the crowd watching the four virtuosos who were later joined by the winger Bernard. Their dribbling runs and trickery earned and deserved much applause as United’s midfield and defense were repeatedly caught in flat-footed lapses. Luckily they were unable to conjure up that final blow in much the same way our own strikers have done of late.

Only Wayne Rooney managed to operate successfully, but he was repeatedly surrounded and double-marked by Shakhtar defenders. His sole highlight after drawing a foul was a 25-yard free-kick which hooked almost perfectly, but tumbled perhaps an inch too far left into the side-netting. Directly afterward, though, having picked up a loose ball from Andrey Pyatov’s goal-kick, Rio casually gave away the ball to Teixeira and shrugged ridiculously as the Brazilian dynamo took off. After turning Rafael around twice, Teixeira inexplicably decided not to go it alone and fired a sweet pass to a surprised Fred, whose wicked shot was blocked by Evans and De Gea.

Something way beyond sarcasm and rage was surely unleashed on the team by Moyes on the team at half-time, though. Once back on the field, United actually began ratcheting up the tempo. First, Wayne Rooney then Young (twice) had chances but these only came close. One was almost wonderful, as Ashley Young took a leaf out of Douglas’ book, dispossessing Darijo Srna, shimmying this way and that before streaking past an advancing Pyatov, but then unfathomably firing his gentle lob over the goalie but wide of the goal. Young’s other miss, when he was left completely alone at the edge of the box and allowed to blast the ball a foot wide of an empty net was just one more nail in the coffin of his disappointing career in a United kit.

Then both Kagawa and Rooney blasted over Pyatov at more or less pointblank range and hearts began to sink. Moyes did get it right then, however. Van Persie and Cleverley were more than adequate replacements for the ineffective Young and Giggs in the 63rd minute. Van Persie is still notably wrapped up around the right thigh and a little hindered in his usual mode of sudden lateral sprinting. Nevertheless, his left foot is always a lethal weapon. Having only been on the pitch for four minutes the Dutch striker instantaneously sewed panic in the Ukrainian champions’ box. after a desperate Srna clearance. Van Persie’s corner dipped before Pyatov could commit to diving into a melée to receive it. Jones charged in to meet it, moving sideways to avoid connecting with Stepanenko, his left shoulder out to break the fall, his big head tucked into his left shoulder, he threw himself to his left and fired a sweet right-footed half-volley into the net to kill the will of the Ukrainians for the final twenty minutes.

Moyes’s men finished their group campaign with an impressive 14 points and four wins from six matches. Yes. On paper, we still look very very daunting in Europe.

“You lot are s%i*,” Rickey emailed me. “You’re not going to win an egg cup!”

“Enjoy your Christmas now,” I replied, “because only Manchester United celebrate Christmas in May!”

Manchester United 0-1 Newcastle United
The last time Manchester United lost at home to Newcastle United, it was 1972 and Frank O’Farrell was the manager. Following Wednesday’s first home loss to Everton in 21 years, the talk is no longer about coming back and making an April smash-and-grab to steal a way back into the top four. Now the talk is about resignation, pride and survival and the probability of blooding more youth players before the January transfer window opens up its big greedy maw.

Ask Paddy Crerand and he’ll tell you. Frank O’Farell was the nicest man to ever manage United. Indeed, when it dawned on Sir Matt Busby what an old school, sweet gentleman O’Farrell was–despite all his previous success in the lower divisions and a relatively big contract–an utterly ruthless stepped in after eighteen months(although it seemed much shorter at the time!), just as he also had with O’Farrell’s predecessor, Wilf McGuinness, and gave him the heave-ho. It really is unlikely that Sir Alex Ferguson and David Gill would advise the Glazers to act quickly to nip this problem in the bud before it goes into free fall, but this utter, gutless capitulation to Alan Pardew’s Newcastle United–a team with an ongoing soap-opera of its very own–will surely have the heavy hitters on the club’s board burning each others ears off between Salford and Tampa.

Shockingly still and silent in the first half, a mute Stretford End certainly communicated something; but, the only sound that could be heard was of the Magpie choir mocking the locals. Toothless without Wayne Rooney, United, led by a bandaged Robin Van Persie played collectively like one overweight mierda-faced drunk. In the first half they produced a single soft shot from Phil Jones on Tim Krull’s goal. Only Little Boy Red, Adnan Januzaj, produced anything at all resembling a threat to a disdainful Newcastle midfield without even coming within the vicinity of their penalty area. United’s midfield pairing of Phil Jones and Tom Cleverly, after taking note of the disdainful manner in which referee André Marriner treated their appeals for justice after repeatedly being rough-housed by Cheik Tioté and the cheeky, grinning Vernon Anita pretty much gave up the ghost early. Indeed, like a puppy resigned to being whipped by his master’s extension cord, Tom Cleverley has these days consistently become any opponents twelfth man.

The truth is that Newcastle were not really that much of a better team during a dire, dull first half. They were precise and made no mistakes, yet a far cry from the buccaneering Everton side the club faced three days before or the schizophrenic Spurs side we tested a week ago. United were only truly found out badly when Loïc Rémy caught a tired Patrice Evra napping with a brilliant curving pass to a marauding Mathieu Debuchy which forced a fantastic reflex save from David de Gea in injury time.

Moyes must have raised his voice at half-time because the Red Devils upped their tempo for the first ten minutes of the second half. Krul made a save off Hernández after he connected to a superb Van Persie diagonal ball. United were a bit unlucky that Evra’s set-piece header from a Nani cross was blocked by Anita at the far post, maybe with his arm. Minus Wayne Rooney and with Robin Van Persie very much in a subdued mood, United were toothless.

Then things finally fell apart an hour in when Newcastle nicked the lead. Predictably, it was Patrice Evra, now a desiccated husk of a defender, incapable of coping with the run from anyone capable of shifting gears, who cost us dear again. Having picked off another dithered moment of Cleverley indecision, the superb Moussa Sissoko waggled his tongue as he zipped past Evra, zig-zagging beautifully into open before tapping a sweet cut-back for Cabaye. Cabaye–a superb General for the French national team, back from the brink of elimination in the World Cup– has an elegant eye for goal. His perfectly hit angled shot was definitely headed toward goal with David De Gea diving for it, when Vidic’s heel inadvertently caught it and gave it just a tad more force on its way into the net. If any one player in the Premier League would suit our style of play, it’s Cabaye.

David Moyes’ frustrated response was to take off Nani and a clueless Cleverley for Wilfried Zaha and Anderson, clearly bamboozling anybody who’s been observing his lack of faith in the latter two over the first quarter of the season. For good measure he also sent on Antonio Valencia, replacing Rafael da Silva. Completely unfazed, the Magpies boss Alan Pardew brought on Hatem Ben-Arfa, a pesky master of ball retention and tricky wing play who upped their energy ante even higher so that Newcastle’s confidence level peaked as they continued to pass the ball around confidently, whle Cheik Tioté repeatedly dispossessed any United player willing to clash with him.

Worse, as the clock ticked down and possession become more and more essential with every second that passed, why did Anderson and Januzaj keep giving away the ball? And call me old-fashioned, but with so much at stake, doesn’t it seem like maybe Moyies might have been screaming at them? Too little too late, once again.

It is acceptable for Moyes to confess that he is thus far way out of his depth when it comes to swimming with the big boys at the deep end of the pool. A certain amount of cleaning up should have been done by Sir Alex Ferguson before he gave his office keys to the secretary, to be sure. Unable or unwilling to let go the likes of Patrice Evra and Rio Ferdinand, both of whom were past what should have been their sell-by dates two seasons ago, the old more ruthless Fergie, it seems, was already fading. Anyway, someone was somehow able to convince Moyes that he needed them. Additionally, the triple conundrum which are Nani , Young and Anderson fooled us fans for years and also received the benefit of the doubt from the new boss. Additionally, the weird shenanigans concerning Zaha on Moyes’ part carried on into this afternoon when he was introduced late for Nani. If Moyes is willing to play him, why would he have made the statement a few weeks back that the lad was six months away from being ready for playing in the Premiership? What does that do for his confidence? It’s a sad, rotten shame that so much August dithering will not only lead to some painful bloodletting and bitterness next month as the players in question are allowed to leave for fees way below their market value or in highly speculative swap moves.

At any rate, with January looming, speculation on what Moyes will do with the line-up against Shakhtar and Aston Villa ought to be interesting. Considering Fabio Da Silva over the defensively toxic Patrice Evra at the left-back position would be a start. Trying out his twin Rafael in midfield next to Fellaini or Jones couldn’t hurt, either.