All hail the new wonder kid! On the Fiftieth anniversary of the day when a fine-boned Belfast B’y by the name of George Best made his debut for Manchester United against West Bromwich Albion, a new kid with the number 44 on his back popped up like a mealy worm out of an apple. Having witnessed both miracles in the flesh (so to speak!), let me tell you, dear reader, that this new kid, a certain Adnan Januzaj, a brilliant Belgian winger of Albanian extraction, is about as the Real Deal as the Real Deal can get! Barring some horrific injury or accident Adnan Januzaj is going to be a Superstar!

Anyway, more on that later. Manchester United were more or less mediocre on the day. Not particularly bad on a day when they collectively gave their new manger, David Moyes, the gift of his first win ever at Old Trafford, just plain old mediocre. Although Robin Van Persie had a smashing time in midweek, scoring twice for the Netherlands, making himself his country’s highest goalscorer ever, he has been a bit of a dud for United of late. Still, he showed the kind of calm ruthlessness we have come to expect of him when he stroked home a penalty kick right on the blessed cusp of half-time. Paired up with his partner Wayne Rooney again, in spite of the high number of chances they were selflessly dished up by their teammates, nothing would go in, No big deal, though. Nothing troubling. It was ringingly clear that this was just a temporary status quo and that soon the floodgates will open and they really will both score goals galore. When Wayne finally did take his chance in the 81st minute it was from a dead-ball free kick, and it was very pleasing to see the Scouser dance happily after scoring, his arms both raised to the home crowd in a gesture of joy and supplication.

Awkward and disjointed in the first half, United genuinely improved in the second half after the introduction of Januzaj and their new club-record buy, Marouane Fellaini. Those famous ‘Bog Brush’ Afro-wigs, so popular with Everton fans for so long, were pulled out of thousands of pockets as the smiling Belgian midfielder was gifted the unilateral joy of 76,000 clapping fans. After that happy moment, United really never looked back.

In the first half, United simply couldn’t do anything fluid. Moyes’ pairing of Anderson and Carrick in central midfield simply couldn’t get going: Repeatedly missing passes and letting themselves get caught in possession. Only one chance fell Palace’s way as Dwight Gayle caught Rio Ferdinand badly out of position, running in diagonally from the left, only to clip his shot over an advancing David de Gea but wide of the far post. Otherwise, Palace never looked even slightly like scoring. But, having dodged innumerable counterattacking bullets, the Londoners blew it big time as the big, lumbering Kagisho Dikgacoi, after numerous warnings and a yellow card from one of many attempts to stifle Ashley Young, let his frustration get the better of him and drew a second yellow. It was definitely a foul on Young, but, the United winger actually received the illegal tackle a foot or so short of the penalty box. A clever player with the ability to control his body well, Young fell far and fast forward, his momentum taking him into the box before referee Jon Moss blew his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot.

Young may have been successful in drawing a penalty, but, over all, it was not a good match for him. With Young fighting desperately to retain his place on the team, and, no doubt looking over his shoulder to see Nani, Valencia and now Zaha and Valencia breathing down his neck, he did himself no career favors by adding one more demerit to his already fat portfolio of diving offenses. Repeatedly reprimanded by Sir Alex Ferguson for being the sort of conniving ham who gives United a bad name, his latest offense, when he dived with his leg waggling after receiving a slight touch by Dikgacoi smacked of the kind of shameless theatricals relentlessly used by Robert Pires, Thierry Henri and Patrick Vieira in the Arsenal team of the late-nineties. Yet Palace barely threatened De Gea’s goal, either before or after they were down to ten men.

United came only really close once in the first half when Van Persie smacked a right-footed volley against the crossbar in the first half and Julián Speroni only began to have a busy afternoon once Adnan Januzaj, looking like an 18-year-old blond waif, made his Premier League debut as a substitute. Confident and relaxed, Januzaj sprinting along the wing line with the ball seemingly glued to his foot in a Messiesque manner, proceeded to give fits to a number of hapless markers. Having brought on Fellaini in the 62nd minute for Anderson, Carrick began to find more passing corridors opening up. With Evra bringing up the rear, Januzaj kept pumping in crosses, forcing throw-ins and drawing fouls. The latter proved crucial as he was clattered by on the edge of the penalty box by Jed Moxey, winning the 81st minute free-kick which Rooney wickedly span around the wall, three inches too low for a diving Speroni, who had guessed right, to reach. It was an exquisite clincher.

Tuesday at Old Trafford sees a visit from the Bundesliga‘s number three team, Bayer Leverküssen. A youthful team full of hungry academy players led by Sven Bender, a box-to-box dynamo with relentless energy, they will be a good season opener to the altered tempo of the Champions League.

It would be wrong to call this game boring. There were episodes of high-speed daring-do from both sides, but next to no clear-cut chances at all. Surprisingly, it was the very first 0-0 stalemate in 77 Premier League matches at Old Trafford, stretching back to April, 2007.

In a game played at a hiccup speed with sudden slow-downs and breathing breaks, it was more like a Welterweight championship bout without blood than full-tilt football. Preferring to go without a traditional striker like Torres, Ba or Lukaku, Chelsea concentrated on dominating a gummed-up central midfield, which forced yeoman, concentrated performances out of a United midfield featuring Cleverley, Carrick and a busy link-up-man-cum-striker in Wayne Rooney. Forced to work twice as hard against the relentless shifting gears engineered by the slaloming Oscar, Hazard, De Bruyne and Lampard, they were well up to the task. Had the three worked even half as diligently for Ferguson last year as they did for Moyes on the night, United would have clinched the Premier League championship much earlier. Of course, Juan Mata, who was omnipresent last season was on the bench for reasons only Mourinho knows; nevertheless., United played with the greater sense of swashbuckle between the two teams. Definitely more entertaining and attack-minded than Chelsea, United still lacked the kind of beautiful arrogance and composure on the bell that we expect to really make a difference in big games.

Neither Petr Cech nor David de Gea had to make a truly tough save. Out of the few chances created, United’s pressure was the more sustained. Yet Antonio Valencia could not dominate Ashley Cole as he has on other occasions. At the same time, a lackadaisical Eden Hazard had no heart for repeatedly dribbling his way around a spunky Phil Jones. With young Danny Welbeck playing on the left flank, his obvious discomfort level at having repeated bruising encounters with the Chelsea right back Bronislav Ivanovic was painfully obvious for the whole crowd. Forced to abandon the superb composure he showed against Swansea last week, Welbeck, having muffed a couple of clear-cut chances over the first fifteen minutes after superb set-ups from Rooney, never seemed able to get his mind into the game enough early, when it mattered most urgently. The stubborn enterprise he showed last week abandoned him against the West London team and he was more or less a passenger from then on.
United had a righteous call for a second-half penalty when Tom Cleverley fired a shot from the edge of the penalty box which struck Frank Lampard’s hand. Yet the referee, Martin Atkinson, waved away United’s appeals although the same offenses has already been punished multiple times this season and David Moyes referred specifically to the handball penalty Tottenham Hotspur won at Crystal Palace on the opening weekend at the post-game press conference.

Both ‘new’ managers were offered massive applause by the crowd at Old Trafford and they spent a little time on the sidelines engaging in good-natured boyish banter. For Chelsea’s captain John Terry, having Mourinho along for the ride already seems to be paying dividends as the iron-hard old veteran was quietly competent alongside Gary Cahill at the heart of their defense. Their job, handling Robin Van Persie and Wayne Rooney, meant they had a job of work cut out for them. Rooney was a busy bee all night, covering every blade of grass–in spite of both sets of fans’ awareness that he has agitated for a move to the London club–filling in the spaces between United’s undermanned midfield and his Dutch partner. Indeed, despite looking grim all night, nobody could have doubted Rooney’s commitment on the night. Atypical of the Scouser’s will and desire was the play of the game when chased down a jinking Ramires in the 87th minute as, acting as a temporary left-back for a leggy Patrice Evra, he executed an exquisite slide-tackle, fully aware that the Brazilian was trying hard to manufacture a penalty out of losing possession. Unfortunately, his link-up play with Robin van Persie was null and void and it will be interesting to see whether Moyes will try them together again next week at Anfield or bring in a well-rested Shinji Kagawa. When football fans do the usual this Saturday and check football scores live they will certainly be hoping for a more exciting scoresheet than some of this weekends 0-0 results.

Meanwhile, Mourinho, well aware of the lack of mobility in Nemanja Vidic and Rio Ferdinand, played no strikers, hoping United would be vulnerable to the speed and trickery of Andre Schürrle, Eden Hazard, Kevin De Bruyne and Oscar. Clearly, the Poruguese master coach feels no faith in Demba Ba or United’s long-time tormentor, Fernando Torres, making it very clear why he wants Wayne Rooney so much. For Davie Moyes it was somewhat of a tactical triumph in a game where possession was of the essence. And when ‘The Special One’ finally altered course an hour in, it was to bring on Fernando Torres instead of the callower powerhouse that is Romelo Lukaku. Having failed to even bring Ba along in the squad, Mourinho seemed like a bit of a ditherer. I look forward to the Stamford Bridge rematch when both sides’ kinks will have been ironed out.

With all the fame and fortune that is to be found when you’re a professional football player, there are those who take advantage of that and spiral out of control. But who are these bad boys of football, and what are their vices?

For some, it is online gambling. There are records of popular sports personalities who have been bitten by the gambling addiction.

Let’s face it. While online games can be really exciting, people should be wary about getting too engrossed with the games. One has to learn his limits and only continue playing without putting their bank accounts in danger.

 Certified Bad Boy of Football

Take for instance the case of the legendary football player Matthew Etherington, who admitted he burned about £1.5 million in online gambling. He was so ashamed of what he did, that he even tried to keep his gambling problem from his family. He always gambled on his salary. On average, he burned about £20, 000 per month on gambling. This went on for many months until he realized that sadly, he had hit a hard wall.

Etherington in fact remembered that his matches almost meant nothing to him because all he wanted to do is turn on his mobile and find out if his horses actually won. He was so engrossed with gambling that he forgot to track down his expenses. This is surely a bad case of a gambling addiction. Although online gambling can be fun, it should not make you suffer for long afterwards. This is why gambling should be kept within boundaries. When you switch on to your favorite mobile casinos, make sure you have limits in mind and do all you can to stick to those limits.

In a Bad Light

Sad to say, Etherington is not alone. There are many football greats who have hit a brick wall. They conquered the spotlight, but not always in a good way. They made noise for all the wrong reasons.

First, there is Wayne Rooney who became quite very popular in the social media circuit lately due to a Twitter spat he had with a fan. He raised hell with this particular fan, which led to the exposure of all his dirty linens.

Second, there is Frank McAvennie. He became quite famous for being involved in an addiction. Unlike Etherington, his addiction was even worse than gambling; his vice was cocaine. His career with West Ham was peppered with lots of controversies involving drugs. There were even rumors that he scored drugs even while he was still a top-notch player, earning a the imaginary weekly amount of £5,000. At the time, he was circling the club scene. Afterwards, he was involved with a drug deal, which led him to Durham prison. It was an all-out fall from grace from then on.

Third, there is Mickey Thomas who was once a star player of Manchester United. He was caught in the crossfire when he got involved in money laundering trouble. He also had some stints in prison, not just for printing fake money but also for getting it on with his sister-in-law.

Certainly, there are many examples of football stars that received their fair share of limelight, for all the worst reasons.

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.”

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?”

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