Manchester United 0-1 Sunderland
As in the movie Jacob’s Ladder, when the camera cut away to Sir Alex Ferguson sitting in the stands fast asleep, clearly there was some kind of skullduggery at work as David Moyes—never actually fired, you see!’—put on his Ryan Giggs mask and gave us another dose of more of the same. Mechanical, impotent and clearly playing without an ounce of joy, the team wearing Manchester United colors, many of whom recognize that these are the last days they’ll ever wear the colors of a great club again, chose to defecate over the dreams and longings of their faithful fans once again. Only the rubber-faced Phil Jones, a down-to-earth Preston-born lad, looked to be embarrassed at being a hubris-befuddled millionaire taking money under false pretenses. Even the introduction of a home-grown Manchester street-kid in Longsight’s Danny Welbeck was underwhelming as he floated about the periphery of the penalty box around Lee Clattermole desperately looking to draw a penalty-inducing foul.
With only two shots on goal over the whole match and a kind of shrugging nonchalance throughout, looming vacations clearly beckoned. And for Gus Poyet’s Sunderland side, the cheeky tendency not to panic, one that only seems to show itself when they play important games, allowing them to draw at Manchester City, and grab wins over Chelsea and Cardiff City. Even though Norwich City helped themselves to a draw at Stamford Bridge on Sunday against a jaded Chelsea, Sunderland’s two-point advantage with a match in hand ought to be enough to royal mail the Canaries into the Championship division, not to mention the 13 goal deficit.
When the only goal came it was well deserved. No longer blessed with the ability to turn or run in reverse, Patrice Evra stood there with his mouth open as Connor “I’m-the-New-Wayne-Rooney”Wickham, who is enjoying his first purple patch ever in Premier League football after years of hype, produced a very cute pirouette and cross from the right that went precisely to the Mackems’ fine ball-handler Sebastian Larsson. While Evra stood there stone static, perhaps trying to telepathically communicate with Michael Carrick that He ought to be the one to deal with the Swede, Larsson placed his volley perfectly beyond the reach of David De Gea to make it 1-0 dead on the half-hour mark.
Poor Giggsy was so upset that he walked back to his seat in frustration and sat down, Moyes-style. Losing: Did United fight back? Did they seem desperate and embarrassed? No. Panic? No. United remained calm and Sunderland dominated the remainder of the half. Adam Johnson —another English winger with twinkle-toes who can dribble all day but is incapable of making a good cross or shooting for goal—was gifted with more United kindness when, alone in the box with Rio Ferdinand choosing to guard De Gea’s far post rather than engage the winger. How Johnson missed a simple tap-in is impossible to gauge.
With so many young players available this week like James Wilson, Bruno Pereira and the newly returned home from loan Tom Lawrence, Giggs chose to play the familiar past-its who have repeatedly cost us so dear, like Evra, Young, Ferdinand, Nani and the walking pity-party that has become Darren Fletcher. Of course, all of them have at some point previously been great servants to the club, but even tight family folk like the Inuit in the Northwest Territories take their geriatrics out to ice floes at the beginning of Spring and say goodbye. Minus Wayne Rooney, who seems to have the triple maladies of a stomach bug, a bad toe and a strained groin, United looked rudderless. As Sir Alex. Moyes and now Giggs have all proven unwilling to get blood on their hands, it remains for Louis Van Gaal to come in and be the butcher.
United almost equalized early in the second half when a Nani back-heel put Patrice Evra clear on the left flank. His delivery found Chicharito Hernández but his point-blank attempt deflected off Wes Brown for a corner.
As the match meandered, Ferguson remained asleep next to his brother, Martin. Giggs then introduced Van Persie, for his first appearance since March 19, and Welbeck, on 66 minutes. The next embarrassment came soon after we when the Sunderland substitute Emanuele Giaccherini hit the post, and close to the end Fabio Borini blasted a loose ball on to the bar.
No. It wasn’t really Moyes in a Giggs mask. I think I was kidding. He’s actually drawing up plans for when he steps in over Alan Pardew’s mangled corpse at St. Jame.s’ According to the Guardian with only Patrick Kluivert so far following Louis Van Gaal to Manchester United after World Cup duty in the Netherlands national team and Danny Blind probably returning to Ajax, the Assistant Manager’s job is available for Ryan Giggs, if he wants it. On Friday Giggs, who has played for United for 23 seasons, hinted he would not be afraid to leave the club, saying: “I have got to decide if I want to play or not, so there is no point thinking if I want to be an assistant or if I want to be a manager somewhere else.” Whatever he decides, Giggs clearly learned that the job of Manchester United manager is, like the road to Hell, paved with good intentions and many many corpses.
Ivor Irwin
Connect with GFT