United Road Take Me Home

Losing’s never quite that straightforward though is it? 10 minutes in, United already in cruise control, the warm, fuzzy vibes from yesterday’s results still hovering over the front-room, I was the picture of tranquillity. Then Eboue sinks to the turf clutching his face at the slightest of brushes from Rooney’s hand and the old bile erupts to the surface and I remember that, though it’s easy to be all rational and dispassionate two days before the game, it’s another thing entirely in the heat of the battle.

And as the game wears on, every shot of Wenger remonstrating over some imagined injustice or other (though, Gary Neville was more than a little lucky to get away with that leg across Henry in the first-half, even Paddy Crerand would have to concede that), cranks up the venom even more, to the point where I’m virtually foaming at the mouth.

The pessimist in me could feel it coming at the end, but the pessimist in me always can, believing even when we’re four-nil up with two minutes to play that some horrifying capitulation is still on the cards. Tomorrow the table will still show up a six point gap, but for tonight giving Henry the opportunity for one of his smug goal celebrations still smarts.