Three Become One
Soon found a cure for that
treble-fever then, didn't we? And so the question 'Is this United side superior
to the one of 99?' that had filled space and kept the comments section busy,
shifts back to the more familiar 'Is this United side the worst in Fergie's
tenure?' because as everyone knows, these days things are only allowed to be
the Best or Worst, only superlatives make themselves heard above the digital
din, the cacophony of the comments section, the shrill squeal of the...well you
get the picture.
The answer lies somewhere
between the two poles of Best and Worst, as it usually does. There's a thread
of brilliance running through the side, but there's also a thick stripe of mediocrity. The trick, it seems to me, is
when they intersect, the mediocrity will be elevated by its proximity to
greatness rather than it working the opposite way round.
But that isn't really what
was on my mind. It's Thursday - well it was when I started jotting this down -
meaning we've got four days to while away before our friends from the Etihad
Campus (Dear Pseuds' Corner...) arrive at OT for the Derby. Four days filled
with tough tabloid rhetoric - not just the province of the tabloids of course -
about how United are 'focussed' and 'determined not to let city derail their title
ambitions'. Vidic has stated that he'll shun the friendship of his Serbian
chums from the Boo- camp for a day or two, while his opposite - meaning Vincent
Kompany, rather than, say, Nani has declared his ambition to win the game and
become 'Champions of Manchester', suggesting he's definitely cut out for a
career in city's press office.
And while the rhetoric rises
in intensity and density, you can't help but wince at what will probably turn
out to be another absolutely supine showing from United. If the last couple of
weeks have shown anything, it's that the Madrid result sucked not just momentum
from the team, but self-belief as well. Now we're a labouring, limited side,
lifted only by the geometry of Carrick's passes and the obduracy of our defence.
A fair assessment? Aren't those two things enough?
Now, not only is the glass
half-full, it's being carried to your table by Nani, meaning the chances of it
ever reaching you are slim indeed. Treble fever induced some kind of collective
hallucination and hysteria that allowed us to forget that in Young, Valencia and Nani, we have a
triumvirate of wingers so desperately average it's a shock we ever score at
all. (To be fair, in Valencia's case it's to be hoped this phase is passing, in
Nani's it's definitely passing...and shooting...and tackling...and I'm here all
week.)
Then there's the case of
Welbeck and Jones, world-beaters in waiting, or England players? ‘But they came
of age in the Bernabau!’ roar the Top Reds. But one of them's a striker with no
strike and the other is like the word galumphing has been given corporeal form
and set loose on a football pitch, retort the, well, me.
So, three more days to kill,
days in which at some point all of us will either say or think the dread words
'Take a point, wouldn't you?' Probably. But I'd much rather see the reds do the
footballing equivalent of standing on their fingers for 90 minutes, freeing
their grip on that trophy, our trophy, in the most painful way possible. Here's
hoping.
posted by Royton Red @ 9:48 AM
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