Meanwhile, moneybags Chelsea, for all their problems, have an awesome squad of midfield players which will challenge the rest of the division for at least another decade. Their clownish manager Rafa ‘The Tapas Waiter’ Benítez is a sensitive, funny fellow who needs to grow a thicker skin vis-à-vis the temporary nature of his position and the rivalry he feels toward Sir Alex Ferguson, who has outfoxed him a multitude of times over the years. Benítez, who is proud enough of his Roman Catholic faith that he feels the repeated need to announce to the world that he goes to church at least twice a day, 365 days per year, must, consequently, believes in miracles. A couple of savvy substitutions and a sixty minute choke by United aren’t really much of a miracle when you’re an unbeliever like me, but to Rafa, a draw surely tastes exactly like a win and the refusal of a gentlemanly handshake from the ungentlemanly maestro, the Gaffer, reads like a total diss but is just the human reaction of a bad loser to another one.
All of this, of course, is gassy rhetoric. United scored two sweet goals within the first eleven minutes and, later, Chelsea scored two exquisite goals of their own. However, had David De Gea–who, to be fair, did not have the best of days between the sticks for United, his distribution repeatedly dreadful throughout–not made one fantastic save and five ‘normal’ ones, the two clubs wouldn’t be whining about finding a date in their busy schedules to go at it in a Stamford Bridge replay.

The first goal came from one of Rafa’s substitutes, Eden Hazard, and was a beauty. The second, from Ramires, followed a wonderful move of classy, incisive counterattacking. Benítez’s team have not been renowned for their perseverance and competitive courage under his watch but they would have booked a place at Wembley were it not for an exceptional save from De Gea, jutting out his right boot to deny Juan Mata in the last minute of normal time. Even then, there were still three other separate chances where Chelsea’s fluid midfield penetration might have won the match and prevented the rigmarole of trying to shoehorn a replay into an already congested fixture schedule.

The transformation was remarkable, especially considering  the way Chelsea began the match, their interplay riddled with errors, looking short of confidence and perhaps suffering their own fatigue. Ferguson was entitled to blame tired legs and minds but Chelsea, lest it be forgotten, did not get back from their Europa League tie against Steaua Bucharest until the early hours of Friday.

Thus, it only took five minutes for a perfectly weighted 40-yard lob off the foot of Michael Carrick to completely fool goalie Peter Cech. Deftly placed to a slow running Chicharito, all the Mexican striker had to do was put the softest bit of contact on the ball with the side of his head and United had the lead. It won’t win any awards at the end of the season, but  it was a goal of true, unique beauty, nevertheless. Then, only six minutes farther along, with Chelsea in a state of total disorganization, Wayne Rooney, back in the line-up, lifted a floating free kick in the direction of Peter Cech’s far post. Both David Luiz and Demba Ba leapt high to head the ball, but somehow, both missed and it eluded a distracted Cech, again, and took an awkward bounce into the net to make it 2-0.

What happened to United then can only be conjectured upon. First the tricky Nani, who had been turning Chelsea’s left back Ashley Cole into a frustrated pretzel, pulled himself out of the game, claiming a hamstring injury. His substitute, Antonío Valencía, never got to warm up properly and somehow never seemed to get his head into the game.  This bit of bad luck was followed by  Cech, who had suffered an abysmal beginning, finally start to make some fine saves. To be sure, just on the cusp of half-time Cech stopped a shocking David Luiz miscue from scoring an own goal, right after stopping a superb shot on the edge of the box from Rooney. Unfortunately, at the same time, a passing rot had already set in as numerous one-touch give-aways saw Cleverley, Carrick, Nani, then his substitute Valencia, and then Rafael and Evra make it simply seem as if no one wanted the ball or felt even the slightest sense of responsibility. In the five minutes before the half time whistle I counted eleven United passes missing their target.

And for Chelsea, before that whistle blew for blessed half time, it’s enough to say that their best chances–when they weren’t being presented with gift passes by Cleverley, who might have been wearing a blue shirt–was a Victor Moses snap shot which hit the corner flag. Indeed, as Benitez left the field, the Chelsea fan entourage–clearly louder than United’s fans who seem to have left it all behind in the Real Madrid match, too–kept singing ‘You don’t know what you’re doing!” Did the tapas waiter feel lonely on his walk to the dressing room? You betcha by golly!

As of Monday morning, Fleet Street has heroicized Rafa as a savvy coach for seeing fit to bring on Eden Hazard and, more importantly, Obi Mikel Jon, but, really what alternatives did he have? With Hazard free on the right flank, Juan Mata and Ramires were no longer burdened with handling Carrick and Cleverley. Free to go where they pleased and gifted the ball repeatedly by Cleverley, Carrick and Valencia, Hazard, Ramires and Mata simply overwhelmed the Reds. And if Carrick and Cleverley felt any sense of adventure or machismo, Obi Mikel, grinning his gargoyle grin repeatedly kicking them into a state of cowed submission. Mikel, who has been relentlessly and repeatedly criticized by the press for his lack of football gravitas, also took on the John Terry role, repeatedly screaming at and cajoling Chelsea’s two erratic center backs, Gary Cahill and the sometimes brilliant-but-childlike David Luiz. For the whole second half, after Mikel took charge, Chelsea quit making goofy errors and the Chelsea midfield performed like a dream.

Chelsea scoring became simply a matter of time. Carrick, so gobsmackingly awesome in the first half hour, suddenly looked like the Gaffer had issued him a velvet smoking jacket and a pair of slippers. Locked in competition with Cleverley, Carrick’s passes were each more and more impetuously misplaced. To their credit, with a visibly aging Patrice Evra repeatedly left gasping in midfield and Rafael Da Silva running from flank to flank trying to stop every opposition run, Jonny Evans and Rio Ferdinand held the fort with an almost perverse stubbornness. In the 59th minute, however, the levee finally cracked. A few minutes after coming on for Victor Moses, Hazard picked up a Cleverley pass, wrong-footed Rafael twice, shifted gears, approached De Gea at an extremely acute angle before curling the ball into the net.

Nine minutes later, gifted the ball by Carrick, Demba Ba took off next to the tiny Oscar. Executing a beautiful double give-and-go they dissected United’s defense before Oscar connected with a sprinting Ramires, who cut into United’s box before firing a perfect left-footer past De Gea, who, although he made fingertip contact with the spinning ball, could not prevent it from squeezing in at the far right post.

All that was left was for United to hang on by their blessed fingertips. Indeed, only an absolutely fantastic reflex save off David De Gea’s foot one minute from time prevented Juan Mata from scoring with a wickedly accurate shot after a fine, mazy run through United’s defense.

There was an incident during the last ten minutes of the game where the cameras caught Rio Ferdinand laying a cheap-shot on his old foe Fernando Torres. Ferdinand may face censure and a suspension over an infraction that the referee, Howard Webb, clearly never caught. These two have been going at it for years and one only needs to go to You Tube to see a number of incidents both were involved in during Torres’ Liverpool days. As Rio has probably been overused by Ferguson lately, however, a few matches off might well do him good.

Just when the F.A. will pick a date for the match replay is a conundrum. Still, provided United can manage to maintain their twelve point lead at the top of the Premier League, a Sixth Round replay should now be a stress-free affair as winning a treble is a vanquished dream. With the prospect of facing Manchester City at Wembley as thee reward for beating Chelsea, a victory would be nice, but is certainly not a priority.

After the fact, EUFA officials have called a disciplinary meeting concerned with the manner in which Ferguson was seen jabbing his finger in front of the nose of the game’s pip-squeak Turkish referee, Cuneyt Cakir, and seconds later as Rio Ferdinand gave the officials face a sardonic round of applause. Yet the fact is that a  bomb went off 53 minutes in when Cakir took his sweet time to show the Red Devils’ winger Nani a red card for what he later explained was the act of embedding his studs into Alvaro Arbeloa’s midriff as he went to control a high ball. And although multiple viewings from different angles of the incident show that a careless Nani actually makes contact with Arbeloa’s elbow before the Spaniard falls over as if machine-gunned, rolls over three times and then springs up on his foot, none the worse for wear and tear, Cakir’s decision stands and life goes on. Of course, a careless Nani really could indeed have hurt Arbeloa, but he didn’t. Notions of “intent” versus “accident” will be discussed for weeks . Now they’re moot.

More questions about the referee later, but, finally there’s a devastated, apoplectic Ferguson who, in over 26 years at the club, has never previously sent one of his assistants–in this case Mike Phelan–to face the press at the post-match conference. “It speaks volumes I am sat here,” a tight lipped Phelan said.

Superb throughout. United let Real keep most of the possession. Rather than locking in nine men behind the ball, United defended effectively in small groups, restricting Real’s desperate desire for usable space. At the same time, when United got a chance to break they took it repeatedly and were faster and more effective than their favored opponents, outplaying them at their own specialty.

Sadly, Danny Welbeck, who more often than not creates his own chances out of nothing, is a shockingly erratic erratic finisher and, his partner on the night, Robin Van Persie is either suffering through a barren spell or is turning out to be the prodigal son of Eric Cantona: An assassin in the Premier League, but less effective on the European stage. At any rate, although the team looked fluid, confident and had the lion’s share of quality, Sir Alex Ferguson’s gamble in leaving Rooney and Kagawa out may have hurt the team fatally. Clearly armchair hindsight is a wonderful thing, but it’s an undeniable fact that, over two legs, United squandered way too many genuine chances. Indeed, when United actually scored they were extremely fortunate as Sergío Ramos accidentally touched a Nani cross, deflecting the ball past an otherwise superb Diego Lopez, who had a dream match.

Only six minutes later, while United kept up the kind of neat passing patterns that reminded aficionados of the brilliant lateral and diagonal  A.C. Milan stylings utilized to great affect seven seasons against us, Nani raised his studs in an effort to catch up with an over hit, high Carrick pass. Nani’s boot was definitely raised and whether there was malice in his heart, or not, the consequences were fatal. That said, there was still palpable shock when the red card was brandished. Once Nani was removed by Cekir, Jose Mourinho instantaneously threw the dice, bringing on Luka Modric.

Modric, having been labeled Real Madrid’s ‘worst ever buy’ by the local press and riding the bench pretty much all season, proceeded to play thirty minutes of absolutely brilliant virtuoso football. Normally dependent on the industry of Angel Di Maria, Mehmet Ozil, Gonzalo Higuain and Fabio Coentrao, Real’s Portuguese superstar, Cristiano Ronaldo, was smothered by the selfless hard work of United’s whole starting team, the hard running Rafael Da Silva in particular. But once the tiny Croatian arrived, the passing lines were narrowed and with United’s full backs always aware of the danger posed by Modric’s lightning turn-on-a-dime footwork to aging center backs Ferdinand and Vidic, Ronaldo suddenly had more time to sprint, surf the angles and pick his spots.

Modric’s equalizer was fantastic. Taking a leaf out of Arjen Robben’s book, Modric gave no inkling of his intentions as he dipped down before straightening up and slotting a bullet off a diving David De Gea’s left-hand post from 23 yards out. Accompanying this dagger to United’s jugular was a an audible whooshing sound. With the Stretford End holding forth at its loudest in years, the pure shock of it was inescapable. And less than three minutes later, with United’s defense trying to regroup and adjust to Modric, the mighty Croatian flea struck again. While holding off a visibly exhausted Evra, Modric fed Gonzalo Higuain. And although Higuain’s attempted diagonal rocket missed the target ,Rafael Da Silva somehow lost his fix on Ronaldo. Whippet-quick the ex-United Wonder Boy made up for all his previous near-misses and failures by arriving at the far post to push Higuain’s errant drive home and give Real the lead.

Despite United being disappointed by the lack of ruthlessness on the part of Van Persie and Welbeck, there can be no doubt that goalkeeper Diego Lopez, bought in as defensive cover for an injured Iker Casillas in January by Real, has in the past week, twice against Barcelona and against United, been playing out of his skin. With Welbeck dominating both Ramos and Varane, Lopez was forced to make save after brilliant save from Nani, Vidic, Welbeck and Carrick. Without their two unlikely heroes, Lopez and Modric, Real Madrid would be headed back to Spain bereft of any hope for silverware this season.

Despite the loss, there are bright spots. Ryan Giggs 1, 000th game is an awesome achievement. 39-years-old and soon to be forty, he is the consummate British professional. David De Gea, Rafael Da Silva and the Reds’ pugnacious captain, Nemanja Vidic were all world-class at the back. Doubtless, because of the loss, Ferguson will be relentlessly criticized by some for leaving out Wayne Rooney. Depending upon which historian you read, it was either Wellington or Napoleon who said: “It was a near run thing!” Sometimes, it seems, you can get it wrong while you’re getting it right!

Finally there’s Cuneyt Cakir, the creepy referee. Having witnessed his card-happy persona previously in games featuring Manchester City, Chelsea, the Republic of Ireland and England, and the very dramatic shows which accompanied red cards for Keith Andrews, John Terry, Vincent Kompany, and Mario Balotelli, I think it’s pretty clear that this referee has political (or other issues) with the British and Irish. Life is like that, of course, and British referees surely own some bigotry’s and prejudices of their own. What rankles, however, is that other powerful managers like Jose Mourinho and Pep Guardiola have protested and won appeals through EUFA against certain referees they feel hold grudges against them before matches are played. Sir Alex Ferguson seems to have missed out on his homework vis-a-vis Mr. Cekir. It will surely not be a mistake he makes again.

It wasn’t a great win, but after scoring two absolutely spectacular goals, Manchester United maintained their twelve point cushion at the top of the Premier League. While making his 999th senior appearance for  Manchester United, Ryan Giggs guaranteed a victory for the Red Devils after Rafael Da Silva’s  spectacular 20-yard strike had given the visitors a first-half lead. But with ten minutes left to go, with United looking collectively tired and slightly the worse for wear and tear, with Sir Alex Ferguson pacing nervously on the edge of the touchline,  Giggs was played onside by Clint Hill, allowing him to run onto a Nani pass, cut hard left into an obtuse angle and then fire a brilliant chip over an advancing  Júlio César. Brilliant for the full 90 minutes, Giggs, on the cusp of 40-years-old, made it seem all too easy  over a team that just didn’t own the quality to mount even the barest challenge against United’s  solid, relaxed back defensive line.

Giggs, who is the most perfect example of professionalism in the sport, led the way, but much credit is due to the ever-improving Rafael Da Silva. His 23rd minute volley–exquisitely executed with both of his little feet off the ground–came off a superb Julio Cesár save of a Robin Van Persie pile-driver. It was a spectacular goal and reminded this decrepit old fart of the good old days of Bobby Charlton when fans made the error of taking them for granted.  We-ell, happy days are here again! Thus, on a dream night at Loftus Road, while his twin brother, Fabio, on loan at Rangers, watched from the bench,  the tough, sturdy young Brazilian right back mastered Jamie Mackie, a winger who has previously given him much difficulty and made a spectacular effort to clear  a Chris Samba header off the goal line. With Rafael so dominant, Harry Redknapp attempted to confuse the issue by interchanging  his wingers Mackey and counterpart Andros Townsend, but neither one was fully effective, even against United’s weakest link. the aging left back Patrice Evra

Bottom of the league QPR had difficulty keeping the ball and building up any kind of tempo throughout. Completely dependent on the leadership and industry of the taleted-but-erratic Adel Taraabt, Rangers simply offered no bite. Indeed, the only time David De Gea was truly challenged in the match was in the 78th minute when the Spanish custodian saved a  Loic Remy pile-driver. Both Danny Welbeck and substitute Wayne Rooney, back from a severe sinus infection,  came close  to making it  a much more substantial victory late on, but each missed narrowly.  Indeed. Welbeck, who missed a series of sitters, was once again a conundrum wrapped in a gob-smacking conundrum.

Now anchored seven points from safety, Harry Redknapp’s Queen’s Park Rangers look to be truly in need of some mode of divine intervention. Meanwhile, Manchester City, who beat an almost equally abject Chelsea on Sunday at the El-Etihad, still need some magic of their own to catch United with just 12 games remaining. United’s only blip of discontent  could come as a result of its talismanic striker, Robin Van Persie, being injured after accidentally sliding into a T.V. camera pit and injuring his hip. Will he be fit to play at home in the E.C.C. against Real Madrid? Fingers crossed!!!

After an absolute gem of a football game, Manchester United’s former star winger Cristiano took the time to hug his old boss Sir Alex Ferguson long and hard. Having scored an awesome headed goal to tie an adrenaline-powered, brilliant game, CR7 may not have changed the minds of those who believe he’ll never be the equal of Barcelona’s Lionel Messi as the best footballer of his generation, but he did put to rest the rhetoric of the Haters who believe he never shows up mentally prepared for the big games. Indeed, considering just how good the Portuguese pretty-ManBoy is, just how well Manchester United played as a team against him and his supporting cast made for an epic, nerve-jangling, nail-biting night of magnificent football so good that it reminds us that we are human. I won’t be so bold as to believe that we are favorites going into a return match at Old Trafford three weeks from now, but I do sincerely think we own the very slightest, hair-of-my-chinny-chin confidence of owning ever such a slight advantage by virtue of having what will be an especially amped up crowd cheering for us.

Magnificent throughout, United performed on a razor’s-edge all night, keeping up a consistent balance between a relentless, hard pressing defensive game refreshingly free of the many errors they’ve been subject to all season and a fine ability to execute quick, probing counterattacks that kept the Spanish champions from ever going about their business on the front foot. With goalkeeper David De Gea taking care of business between the sticks at his old club’s nemesis, a star was born. Indeed, so good was the lean, leopard-like custodian that I imagine the rumors of both Barcelona and Real coming to get him and perhaps ultimately paying out the kind of money that was spent on Ronaldo do not seem unrealistic. As with Ronaldo, who was accused for years of being a one-trick-pony capable only of step overs, De Gea has been attacked relentlessly by critics for having difficulties with high crosses and no stomach for the physical side of the English game. Great players do not develop overnight in a vacuum, however. And although Ronaldo’s expensive supporting cast of Angel Di Maria, Mesut Ozil, Karim Benzema, Sami Khedira, et al, are all fine performers, they were out hustled by the sheer work-rate and commitment of all eleven Manchester United players. Even United’s weakest link, Patrice Evra,, all too often marooned on his old legs somewhere around the center spot, had nine teammates bound and determined to carry his cross.

It was no surprise that the ever-charming Jose Mourinho was more inclined to discuss how badly his tactics were carried out by his players than complimenting United for smothering them. More than a few folks were taken aback by his statement that United “parked the bus” at the Bernabeu. He actually sounded like he was talking about his own team Inter two memorable seasons ago when they played tar-baby to a frustrated Barcelona; but one is never sure whether the self-styled ‘Great One’ is being facetious, or not. Counterattacking has always been a stock-in-trade for Mourinho’s sides. In this sense, with his side built to feed Ronaldo with a relentless conveyor belt’s-worth of passes and attacking relentlessly, Sir Alex Ferguson beat the Great One at his own game.

Just how unfair those bitter comments from Mourinhoare  is born out by just how close United came to scoring at least four times. Robin van Persie, who has been a goal machine, seemed awed at the occasion throughout and even. Ryan Giggs, a substitute who was received by Real fans with the kind of applause the Bernabéu faithful withhold to all but a great few, missed a gaping sitter which he was still be cursing himself over days later.

Those missed chances, however, point to the fact that, tactically, Sir Alex Ferguson got it right. Along with the counterattacking came containment. Phil Jones was incredibly energetic in midfield, both covering for Rafael da Silva as he moved up and slotting in next to him to cut down on Cristiano Ronaldo’s windows of opportunity. Even Wayne Rooney was there backing up Rafael and Jones. Still, even three United warriors couldn’t keep the brilliant winger quiet throughout. Despite being limited in opportunities, Ronaldo came shockingly close with at least three fantastic bazooka-like shots from around 25 yards out that all just missed the goal by a hair’s breadth. And although Real always looked the more relentlessly dangerous team, the only really good chance had by anybody save Ronaldo, happened five minutes in, falling to Fábio Coentrão whose shot hit the post before being pushed away by De Gea’s full-length save.

A weakness every football fans knows about is both sides’ vulnerability to crosses. Yet United, with both Ferdinand and Evans opting to stay close to goal throughout, managing to hold firm. Without the world’s highest-rated goalkeeper, the injured Iker Casillas, Madrid seemed weak at the back. Their stand-in keeper Díego Lopez, bought in January to replace the injured Casillas, along with Sergío Ramos and Rafael Varane, were all given a torrid time by Danny Welbeck.. Criticized by many for not picking a traditional winger like Nani or Young,, the Gaffer opted for Robin Van Persie and Wayne Rooney pumping in the passes the strong, muscular native Manc.

The first goal of the game, 20 minutes in, proved Ferguson right for being a gambler. With Shinji Kagawa, Welbeck and Rooney all behind Van Persie and the pesky Kagawa repeatedly running in behind him, a frustrated Varane gave up a corner. Rooney’s corner went over Jones, but with Varane and Ramos locked in on Robin Van Persie, Welbeck was able to push away both of them in the six-yard-box, dipping his header past Diego López.  Often too hot to handle for either Real center back, Welbeck also came close to scoring again  five minutes after Ronaldo’s equalizer leaving Varane for dead as he raced for Van Persie’s left-wing cross but botching his footwork as he tried to execute a delicate volley.

Ten minutes later, though, after much frustration for both Ozil, and Di Maria, Fabio Da Silva had trouble in the corner with Ozil. Stealing away with the loose ball, Angel Di María whipped his cross into the penalty area for Ronaldo who rose above a very mortal Patrice Evra–remarkably high with both of his ankles conjoined, like a basketball player executing a text book jump shot–and nodded home a bullet header into the bottom left corner that left De Gea clawing at the empty air.

The second half was more of the same. And although Real Madrid owned the lion’s-share of possession, they never looked capable of being lethal when Ronaldo was off the ball. Frustrated throughout, Real consciously upped their foul count. And, ten minutes into the second half, Varane was unbelievably fortunate that the German referee, Felix Brych, gave him the benefit of the doubt after a thuggish challenge on Evra, who was running unmarked  on to a beautiful defense-splitting Michael Carrick pass.

In the waning moments of the match, both teams battled bravely. De Gea saved yet another Sergio Coentrão effort with his feet, thumping the spinning ball away from inside his right-hand post. Then a screaming Ronaldo free-kick dipped on to the roof of the net. Then a selfless Rooney sent Van Persie clear and Diego López reached to finger-tip the shot on to his post. Seconds later, after a lightning transition, Van Persie scuffed at a perfect pass to beat a wrong-footed Lopez only for Xabi Alonso to clear.

In a last bizarre moment during stoppage time Diego López denied Van Persie. Instead of allowing the resultant corner, the referee blew his whistle, simultaneously ignoring an incident that saw substitute Pepe kick Jonny Evans for no apparent reason.. The good Lord Ferg, often the lightning rod for venting vexation in similar Premier League situations, was a surprising island of calm. A rosy-cheeked Pict Buddha, he calmly raised his hands in the direction of both an outraged Jonny Evans and an only slightly calmer Rio Ferdinand, spread his fingers and broke into a Cheshire Cat grin. It wasn’t a perfect display from his team, but there was no way the questionable ethics of any referee were going to spoil this night.

Robin Van Persie–a Rolls-Royce of a performer Roberto Mancini had desperately wanted to enhance his toybox of expensive rent boys and offered far more to Arsenal for in wages and transfer fees–showed exactly what City’s divaesque manager missed when he chose to join Manchester United for a bargain £24m instead. After a silly foul by Gael Clichy on the edge of the box, Van Persie’s free kick deflected off the weak link in City’s wall, a turning Samir Nasri, wrong-footing goalie Joe Hart to score the winner. Van Persie’s exquisite strike, his fourteenth goal of the season ended the sky-blues year-long 37 match run without a loss at the Etihad since December 2010.

It was as the aging master had said repeatedly over the week leading up to the match, about as important a single win as he’s ever had over a long, glittering career. Alternating this season between a diamond-formation that reminded some of the 2007-08 team minus Mourinho and something more orthodox utilizing wingers, no clear conclusion could be made as to what was going to happen or how Ferguson was going to do it because his back line of defenders has been both repeatedly devastated by injuries and repeatedly found suicidally inept, mostly because center back has never been able to understand the fundamentals of positioning. At any rate, whatever voodoo has been messing with the noggins of Ferguson’s preferred back four of Rafael Da Silva, Rio Ferdinand, Jonny Evans and Patrice Evra was banished by the simple art of concentration. Easier said than done, of course. City did dominate for the first twenty minutes, but it was more a case of the Red Devils taking their rivals’ measure than ceding dominance.

Instead of sticking to the diamond or the wing game, Fergie let Valencia and Young improvise. And with Mancini clearly seeming to prefer Gareth Barry and Yaya Touré laying back , just in front of their defense, seemingly content to practice the dark arts against the injury-prone Tommy Cleverley and his partner. Michael Carrick, both Wayne Rooney and Ashley Young were both as free as a happy pair of promiscuous courtesans to make short little diagonal runs on and off the wing. The ghost of Cristiano Ronaldo remains, to be sure, but his wise, brilliant less selfish replacement. Robin Van Persie. although less direct in his attacks on goal, poses more panic and endangerment to his opponents.

Yes, United were clearly on the back foot for the first twemty minutes, but slowly Antonio Valencia and the brilliant Rafael on the right-hand side slowly grew in confidence against a lonely Gael Clichy. Having put a bridle on the aging Patrice Evra for the first time this season may actually have been Lord Ferg’s wisest move. The French full back was able to double-clutch and head inside to enhance his own play, rather than worry about backing up an enigmatic Young.

United’s first goal came out of nowhere sixteen minutes in. A gorgeous bit of razzmatazz saw Robin Van Persie chest down an Evra pass while still simultaneously, almost casually, sprinting forward before connecting with the whippet-like Ashley Young. His laser-like pass found an unmarked Rooney, who scuffed his first attempt, but had the presence of mind to recover and hit it awkwardly again past a dumbfounded, double wrong-footed Joe Hart. Thirteen minutes later, Rafael Da Silva, hoovered up a pass from and chipped a lovely pass which, this time, Rooney had no hesitation about surgically slamming it home.

With no quarter being given by either defense, it was difficult to understand why Mancini had picked and persisted with both Samir Nasri and Mario Balotelli. To be sure, both are brilliant on their day and Balotelli had been awesome a year ago at Old Trafford, but this was a genuine derby game allowing no quarter. Indeed, it was only when Carlos Tevez, an ex-United star turn and a fanatic hater of Sir Alex Ferguson, came on for City that the game changed. In these situations, Tevez plays like his hair is on fire. His presence was an absolute necessity because things went collectively awry in the 58th minute as Ashley Young, clearly played onside by an advancing Zabaleta, fired home after a beautiful set up by Van Persie.

Yet the referee, Martin Atkinson disallowed it and then,suddenly the game was back on as Yaya Touré scored, letting loose a low-lying corker through a packed United penalty box after both Tevez and David Silva both had brilliant efforts blocked. United hung in there and the midfield combat was a war of attrition as crunching tackles and off the ball combat were the order of the day. And 79 minutes in, after a fantastic weaving Silva run, the Spaniard stepped inside past Ferdinand’s slow marking and watched in horror as his obtusely angled shot careened off goalkeeper David De Gea’s shoulder onto the bar and out of play.

Exhausted, United’s defense hung in there. But, then, seconds later, Ferguson was fuming on the sidelines, justifiable livid as Kolo Touré, on for the injured Vincent Kompany, blatantly tripped Patrice Evra inside the penalty area and the referee, Martin Atkinson, waved play on. Then, in the 86th minute, when Phil Jones and Evra failed to clear a Tevez corner, Zabaleta fired home between Jones’ legs and just inside the post to send the crowd into paroxysms of emotion and place the game on a 2-2 knife edge.

At them very end, United seemed to have utterly blown it. Then Tevez fouled Da Silva and Van Persie stepped forward to deliver the killer blow.

Much nastiness followed RVP’s winning free kick. Rio Ferdinand had a coin thrown at his eye. All’s well that ends well, and Rio–lucky not have been hit in the cornea–still took a masochistic macho pleasure in walking over to the United fans as rivulets of his own blood glimmered down his face. It was soon after this moment of fist-pounding bravado that an enraged City fan invaded the pitch and had his way blocked by an equally irritated Joe Hart. The game’s the thing, they say, but the big games United have been playing against rivals Liverpool and Arsenal have long been mostly disappointments. Yet this season has been special, a 3-2 victory over Chelsea wa sa definitely surpassed by this wee masterpiece. Consider the final whistle, as Carlos Tevez and Sir Alex Ferguson baited one another. Tevez, a/k/a ‘The Trier’ to Sir Alex Ferguson, walked away and, instead of joining City’s defensive wall, spent the next few minutes screaming insults at the Gaffer and Mike Phelan. Why Tevez wasn’t in the wall is one question City fans ought to ask. Gareth Barry clearly heard screaming obscenities at Roberto Mancini,

Mentioning David De Gea is apt, too! The Spaniard may still not successfully communicate with his back four colleagues too well, but his work in the air was commendable and much improved. With those superb reflexes and the confidence in taking chances (even though he clearly gets it wrong sometimes) De Gea is a far superior talent to a a repeatedly dither-prone Joe Hart.

Last, but not least, Manchester United played with pride and discipline. Win or lose, this is all I dare ask for! Still my Cardiac Kids, they have left us all a big one for the memory banks.

Ouch!

My old mate Dek Furphy put it best in the text message he sent me from Carrow Road on his Blackberry: “You lot are f**k%n’ toothless. Shitteh, Barcelona, Real, Bayern or Borussia are going to disembowel you!!!” And to think I once bought Deklyn two pints!

It really was awful to watch. Between that old hack John Champion going on mockingly about how “United never lose!” and Norwich’s patient country-ass fans seen praying for the cavalry not to come and for the Lord’s blessed munificence. All of it lovingly captured by a crystal-clear eyed producer altogether aware tht there was nothing going on on the field. The whole world, craftily set up by Sir Alex Ferguson to believe United always fight back from the brink, twiddling its collective thumbs, waiting for Robin Van Persie to pull a magic wand out of his shorts and then score not one, but two last gasp miracle goals. We-ell, not this time! On a disastrous day on which no hair dryer, nor any fickle finger of fate and certainly no RVP could intervene, a limp, arrogant Manchester United side lost for the third time and gave away their lead at the top of the table with less than a whimper to Manchester City.

This was no masterpiece of courage and tactics and pluck on the part of Norwich City and their school-of-hard-knocks manager Chris Hughton. Sure, John Ruddy put in a fine turn between the sticks, but the fact is that United had less than six honest attempts on his goal. United simply don’t own the horses to intimidate even your crippled, wheelchair-bound granny when Wazza and RVP aren’t on. On their bad days this is the worst United side since the snoreworthy horrors of the Dave Sexton era. As Hughton said so succinctly after the game, Norwich, who came in with some confidence after a run of five matches unbeaten, watched United’s wonky display against Barry Bannan and Aston Villa four times over the week and were good and ready. “United no longer have the ability to play a mobile defense,” Hughton said. “Rio’s legs have gone and Evra left holes for Morrison and Pilkington to play in all day. Smalling is not one for physicality… So we used that!”

Hughton, always a breath of fresh air as a coach, up there with the loquacious Ian Holloway, got career performances out of goalie John Ruddy, his center backs, Michael Turner and Sebastian Bassong , the ever reliable Grant Holt and ex-United academy player, right winger Anthony Pilkington. Hughton inherited a tough job when he took over from Paul Lambert, but he has made them a tough, gristly sum of their parts.

As for United, missing Wayne Rooney is a pathetic excuse. “You always miss your key players but we had plenty of good players on the pitch,” he said. A disinterested Michael Carrick might as well have been wearing a yellow shirt so often did he gift them the ball. Ryan Giggs and Javíer Hernandez played like they’d each ingested a fourteen-course-meal immediately before the match. With both the usually effective Valencia and the always erratic Young each having a stinker, the pressure ratcheted up for both Rafael Da Silva and Robin Van Persie to do something/anything. Just how abysmal United were is seen by the fact that all Ruddy had to do in the first half was save a distance shot from Van Persie in the third minute and a badly miscued effort from Young in the 43rd minute. Had Grant Holt not been the big, slow carthorse that he is, two exquisite crosses by Robert Snodgrass and Javí Garrido would have already seen the Canaries two up as Smalling winced away from an advancing Holt.

Scoring for Norwich was inevitable. Most United fans were praying for it, too. If the Red Devils fall behind, the Fergiesque self-delusion goes, we’ll finally pull our finger out! At any rate, in the 60th minute, Javíer Garrido sold a couple of dummies to a slack-jawed Michael Carrick and Ryan Giggs before slotting in a beautiful dive-bombing cross for a waiting Anthony Pilkington to leap high past Chris Smalling for and power nod into the net past a stranded, diving Anders Lindegaard.

The rest was all sadly predictable Norwich kept ten men behind the ball, but still managed to repeatedly paralyze United’s midfield with a series of lightning counterattacks. Striker substitute Danny Welbeck came on, missed a gaping sitter with virtually his first touch after a fine run to set him up by Valencia and, minutes later, saw a beautiful header saved by the intervention of a brave Sebastian Bassong. But even then, with seconds on the clock, the Canaries counterattacked yet again and Johnny Howson slalomed through United’s flat-footed, exhausted defense before firing wide in front of a yawning open goal. Even then, Ruddy was on the spot to block a Bassong own goal and save a long-distance Scholes effort as the whistle blew.

This was Norwich City’s second only league win over Manchester United ever. A third loss so early in the season is not good. Yet Chelsea also managed to lose and their defense may be even more brittle than our own. The looming game against Manchester City increases in importance so early in the season by tenfold.

With a trip looming to Istanbul for a match against Galatasaray on Tuesday, what Lord Ferg will do next is interesting to conjecture upon. For those of us already worried that Evra and Ferdinand are now more or less done there was comfort in the news of the imminent return of Phil Jones and Chris Smalling to shore up a thus far mediocre Jonny Evans. Now that both Evans and Smalling seem to have been found out by the whole Premiership for being tactically naïve and physically shy, the pressure for a quick return by the injury-prone Nemanja Vidic also increases. There will be a ton of angst, weltschmerz and just plainold unreasonable expectation heaped  onto Phil Jones’ shoulders right away. Let’s hope he can handle it.