Category Archives: Football

You’re Wondering Now

Sigh. So the gloomy outlook described last month turned out to be depressingly accurate – 1 win, another 2 stupefyingly dull 0-0’s, and our best performance coming as we cruised out of Europe on a night where circumstances dictated that the usual Van Gaal playbook was abandoned. Rather than taking off, the season has instead veered off-track and nosedived into a ditch.

As far as United bad weeks go, this has been an absolute humdinger. Drawing at home to West Ham was a poor start, but then defeat in Germany and being comprehensively outclassed by Bournemouth has taken us to new, uncharted levels of gloom. I’m not even sure it can be classed as a crisis because all this happening comes as no surprise whatsoever. I’m no football sage but I called it to a couple of mates immediately after West Ham, “next week, we’ll go out of Europe and Bournemouth will beat us.” I wasn’t being facetious either, it was an entirely serious prediction.

Of course there are mitigating circumstances. The injury situation has reached farcical levels now, with half the team sheet comprising of players no one but seasoned Academy watchers had even heard of until 2-3 months ago. Pereira, Varela, McNair, Borthwick-Jackson, Lingard… Christ almighty, even Nick Powell has been exhumed. You can get away with including 1 or 2 of these lads at a time but expecting them to flourish en masse in an already misfiring, dysfunctional team is wildly optimistic. It simply wasn’t going to happen. Our 1st team is goal shy and struggles to break sides down, so why expect a team of reserves and youth players to fare any better?

It’s been suggested that this sudden influx of fresh faces and an attacking display in spite of losing to Wolfsburg should be seen as grounds for optimism – indeed, I’ve heard the phrases ‘brave performance’ and ‘hope for the future’ uttered over the last week. Sorry, but I just don’t buy it. Of course United went on the offensive in Germany, we had no other option given the urgent need for goals to qualify. This didn’t demonstrate any change in Van Gaal’s mindset or provide evidence he’ll now decide to abandon the safety first approach – he was simply forced into doing something different for once.

The most telling moment of the entire European campaign was with 30 mins left in the penultimate game versus PSV. That was the time when we needed to push on and press for a winner that would’ve assured qualification. And what did we do? Precisely nothing. There was no discernible attacking threat in the final half hour as instead our possession game became more and more ragged. Belief visibly drained from everyone on the pitch, Mata finally introduced with just 5 minutes left, the opponents ending the match looking the more likely to score. All in all, it was textbook United under Van Gaal. We were out then… and it was fully deserved after such a timid home performance against limited opposition.

Van Gaal himself appears to have changed over the last couple of weeks. Whilst he’s always been a stoic figure on the bench, when facing the press he’s always come across as dogmatic and assured. All of a sudden he doesn’t seem quite so consistent in the noises he’s making. The standard of refereeing has had a mention, certain players have been singled out and best of all, supporters’ expectation levels are now being questioned too. Picking holes in his claims is unnecessary, but the fact he’s decided to start criticising fans when he’s had a very easy ride and relatively little stick from that direction speaks volumes. This, let’s not forget, was the ebullient character confidently instructing us to “boo me, not the team” just a few weeks ago.

Even more perplexing, is Van Gaal’s assertion that the team is making progress… which we undoubtedly are providing you disregard the abysmal football witnessed week in, week out and instead squint your eyes and study the stats from a certain angle. I just don’t think going out in the CL group stages and losing on pens to Middlesborough in the League Cup is going to prove progress enough when it comes to deciding if his services are to be retained beyond the end of the season. Yes, things are slightly better than when Moyes was here, but if Moyes had been given £250M to spend with a further 18 months in charge would things really be that much different now?

Nothing Van Gaal has done gives me much confidence we’re going to be seeing a noticeable upturn in fortunes any time soon. The signings (Martial aside) haven’t had any impact, with most looking like bang average additions to an already bang average squad. Depay has been mostly terrible, inheriting Nani’s football brain minus his first touch; Sneiderlin is completely and utterly Southampton; Schweinsteiger looks every inch the 31 year old warhorse whose legs have started to fail him. The only player who looks to have progressed under Van Gaal is Chris Smalling who’s having a fantastic season. Our best performer, once again, is the goalkeeper… which says a lot about the paucity of entertainment on offer each week.

No doubt in January we’ll see another couple of expensive signings. A goalscorer would be nice considering we sold two in the summer and it’s difficult to envisage Rooney ever being good ever again – sorry Wayne, it pains me to admit it, but even a long-term, staunch believer like me wakes up to reality eventually. Defensive cover too must surely be a priority considering we’re currently down to the bare bones of an already threadbare squad, plus I don’t think it’s actually legal to start playing U-13’s at senior level.

What United are most desperate for though, is a playmaker. One of those rarely seen, mythical creatures capable of coming in and releasing the potential that’s lurking within each of the other current underachievers. Problem is, even if we did unearth the next Eric Cantona, do you honestly think that Van Gaal would share the vision? Sadly, I’d hazard a guess that he wouldn’t… and that’s ultimately one of the main reasons he won’t be here much longer.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

www.rednews.co.uk

Killing Me Softly

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Hmmmm. You can tell that something’s amiss when you reach an international break and instead of thinking ‘dammit, no football for 2 weeks’, instead you’re thinking ‘hooray, no football for 2 weeks’. We’re within touching distance of the top of the table and on course to get through the CL group stages – a scenario I would’ve happily taken if presented with a couple of months ago. Instead, it all feels pretty hollow. I’m afraid there’s no getting away from the fact that watching United has become a deathly dull pastime of late.

When I first had a whinge about Van Gaal a few weeks back, I was quickly shot down by a handful of smartarses who were quick to point out we’d gone top of the league after consecutive wins against Liverpool, Southampton and Sunderland. What could possibly be my problem? It’s not just about results though – this team is always going to be good enough to win more games than they lose. The problem is down to the mentality and the possession-at-all-costs approach. It’s suffocating. It may well successfully bore the opposition into submission but it’s also making me lose the will to live.

Van Gaal, clearly, will not change. I’m not giving to start insulting the guy because he’s only doing what he’s always done. His approach may well ultimately bear fruit… it’s entirely possible in this oddball season where Chelsea have sunk without trace and City look brittle shorn of Silva and Aguero. Silverware will be more than enough to appease the majority of United fans but in 30+ years of attending games I’ve never been as consistently bored as I am right now. I had to smile the other week though, following Louis’ “don’t boo the team, boo me” instruction. Louis mate, they were booing you.

Thing is, I’m not even suggesting that something drastic needs to happen. I don’t think binning Van Gaal at this juncture would be beneficial in the slightest and I’m fully in favour of giving him more time to fine-tune things. It’s just… well it’s just proving deeply uninspiring waiting for things to click. If we had some topsy turvy 3 -3’s to amuse ourselves with whilst adjustments took place it might prove a little more bearable, but 3 x 0-0 draws in a week was slash-your-wrists gear. No more of that United, please. Anything but that.

Is anyone else getting a bit overwhelmed by the unerring omnipresence of the Co92 currently? Seeing Beckham back in town doing his UNICEF ambassador bit this weekend made me realise that we’ve come full circle and reached the unlikely stage where he can no longer be considered the most rampant self-publicist of the group. You literally can’t switch on the telly or open a paper without hearing from Gary Neville at the moment. Pundit, coach, commentator, columnist, hotelier, club owner, champion of the homeless… the bloke is absolutely relentless.

Since retiring from playing GNev has transformed himself into some bizarro world hybrid of Donald Trump and Tony Wilson. Where is it going to stop? Is he hoping to usurp Gary Lineker as the new face of Walkers Crisps? Would be a seismic event for sure, but such a coup isn’t beyond him given his burgeoning media profile. Does he have political aspirations I wonder? Mayor of Bury seems an attainable target but that’s a position for a man of advancing years. What about in the meantime? Leading Manchester Council, buying out the Glazers, re-opening the Hacienda, becoming a Tory MP, playing bass when Oasis re-form… he seems hellbent on doing absolutely everything that pops into his head.

During my mini meltdown a couple of issues back, I expressed some concern about the wisdom of spending £60M on a relatively unknown teenage striker. Thankfully, any fears I had look to have been unfounded as Anthony Martial has come in and endeared himself to everyone with both his performances and his seemingly nonplussed reaction to life in the spotlight at Old Trafford.

That said, it’s not surprising that he looks unfazed at the prospect of playing in front of 75,000 every week when you learn that aged 19, he’s already married with 2 kids! That shows some otherworldly level of maturity, that – at 19 I was sleeping ’til 12 every day and doing my best not to get booted out of college. Kids, in fact responsibility of any kind, was only something that happened to the incredibly foolish or incredibly unlucky. Still, fair play to the lad – in the context of modern footballers it marks him out as pretty much unique.

Hold on a minute. Or does it? A quick google brings up nothing whatsoever about the birth of Martial’s second child, yet an accompanying twitter search brings up a million braindead re-tweets welcoming the latest member of the #mufcfamily. Sample quote: “nigga be scoring on and off the pitch!” Jesus Christ. Who in their right mind thinks, ‘nothing much happening today barring homicidal maniacs running round Paris with machine guns, I think I’ll announce that Anthony Martial’s missus has had another kid’? I suppose this serves me right for ever having anything to do with social media. It’s full of absolute imbeciles – me included.

Looking at the upcoming fixtures, it looks like we’ve got a bit of straightforward run now so the perfect opportunity to cut loose and go GOAL CRAZY presents itself. Anyone else fancy a bit of cavalier football? Remember that? Passing the ball fowards, having a shot, a bit of excitement perhaps… With Watford, PSV, Leicester, West Ham, Wolfsburg and Bournemouth incoming there don’t appear to be many potential 0-0 boreathons on the horizon. If this season is ever going to burst into life then now is surely the ideal time. Please let it be time.

www.rednews.co.uk

Kicking Television

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Whilst debate continues to rumble on amongst United fans about whether Wayne Rooney should be dropped in light of his ongoing lack of form, tv viewers were recently treated to an “unprecedented”, behind-the-scenes profile of the man courtesy of the Beeb in Rooney: The Man Behind the Goals. As far as titles go, I might have plumped for ‘Wayne’s World’, personally.

The programme was commissioned to mark the fact that Rooney has now reached 50 international goals – a landmark haul that Gary Lineker was careful to remind us of at least a dozen times. The footage shown of a teenage Rooney served as a reminder of what an utterly devastating player he was in his youth, completely at odds with the waning Wayne we see toiling away in 2015.

Disappointingly, despite promising much more, there was very little revealed about “the man behind the goals”. Indeed, the most remarkable thing about this documentary was how little about Wayne Rooney we managed to learn over the course of an hour. Instead we were treated to about 20 minutes footage of Wazza playing with his kids, 10 minutes of him driving round Croxteth, 20 minutes of vox-pop plaudits from his fellow pros and 10 minutes of non-insightful musings from the man himself.

Rather than giving us stunning revelations such as “fatherhood has matured him” and “he’s a great captain”, I couldn’t help feeling the whole thing was a giant missed opportunity. It would have been so much more illuminating if instead, Lineker had gone off-piste and started rummaging round his house ‘Come Dine With Me’-style. Rather than simply teasing us with mentions of Wayne’s love of live music and flair for writing poetry, it would have proved far more entertaining if they’d cracked open a couple of bottles of wine and got the karaoke machine out whilst Lineker went delving into Colleen’s knicker drawer in search of said poems. Maybe next time.

It’s been a been a while since there’s been a reverential documentary detailing the life and times of Sir Alex Ferguson, so hot on the heels of exposing what makes Wayne Rooney tick, BBC1 followed up this up with Sir Alex Ferguson: Secrets of Success. This programme decided to forgo the already done-to-death biography format and instead went with the premise of Fergie’s new-found status as one of the world’s foremost thinkers in the field of management in business.

Post-retirement, Fergie has managed to swerve the £500 a night after-dinner speaking circuit so beloved of ex-pros. Instead, he finds himself invited to speak at educational institutions alongside Harvard professors. The format seems to be that the academics start the ball rolling by presenting their theories in lecture theatres full of graduate trainees, before Fergie takes to the mic and dismisses all conventional wisdom with his inimitable brand of icumfigovaness.

It’s an incredible (and no doubt very lucrative) gig that Fergie has got for himself, and it doesn’t seem to matter a jot that his pearls of wisdom are simply common sense methods familiar to any manager in any workplace the world over. Nevertheless, the sway that Fergie has in these circles shows no sign of abating any time soon. Everyone sits there totally enrapt in the presence of such a legendary figure, collectively ignoring the fact that his experiences in charge of a football club aren’t in any way related to their own career aspirations of managing a team of 30 stockbrokers.

Out of all the usual faces lined up to pay homage to Ferguson and his greatness, only Tony Blair had the balls to admit that Fergie’s “just get rid of them” mantra doesn’t actually translate to a normal (not that 10 Downing Street can be considered normal) workplace. How utterly bizarre though, that the former Prime Minister actually sought out the opinions of a footballer manager whilst agonising over a proposed cabinet restructuring.

One of the comedic highlights of 2014 was BBC3’s Football Fight Club, a ‘hard-hitting’ documentary exploring “some of the most active youth firms in the country.” As far as hoolie porn goes, last year’s effort was stone cold classic. We met Dante from Spurs, attempting to kick his habit by fighting trees in a forest pretending they were Chelsea; there was a chubby lad from Bury retiring from active service at 18 to become a sensitive singer-songwriter; and of course there was Carl, leader of City’s ‘infamous’ Blazing Squad, memorably driving round Stockport with his 16 year old accomplices trying to arrange a “4 on 4” with West Ham.

The producers of Football Fight Club don’t try to innovate, they instead stick rigidly with the tried and tested ‘Danny Dyer format’ that’s become the standard for the hoolimentary genre. There are numerous shots of dogs roaming bleak-looking council estates, gangs of kids stood on street corners with their hoods pulled up and a voiceover from a sociology and media studies graduate, explaining in hushed tones about ‘meets’ and ‘top boys’ and ‘banning orders’.

As well as catching up with Carl and Dante, this year’s follow up film introduced some new aspiring Cass Pennants. First we met with Brogan (17) from Lanarkshire, unique due to being a girl and for having seen Nick Love’s adaptation of ‘The Firm’ and taken it seriously. Unusually for a teenage wannabe hoolie, Brogan eschewed the pub as part of her pre-match routine. Instead she met up with her Hamilton Academical’s youth firm cohorts (ages ranging from 9-16) on a piece of waste ground, where they jumped up and down singing songs in their impenetrable accent sharing a small bottle of Buckfast. I’m not making any of this up by the way.

Then we met Denny from Wolverhampton, invited by Dante to travel down to London to ‘mob up’ with Spurs in order to fulfil his long-held ambition of taking on a “top continental firm”. Unfortunately, the game selected was Fiorentina at home, where clearly, nothing was ever likely to happen. By way of consolation, Denny travelled back home on the last train out of Euston gazing wistfully at footage of Feyenoord getting a kicking off the Italian plod the same night. What a pity the programme’s meagre budget didn’t extend to buying the lad a passport and sending him and the film crew out to Rome instead.

Blazing Squad Carl, meanwhile, was still holed up in his Bury flat bemoaning his misfortune of being off the scene due to serving a football banning order. Not really a surprising development when you consider he went on national television last year incriminating himself for an hour. Still, the end was in sight and Carl’s ban was soon due to expire – his preparations for which, we discovered, comprised of getting a new tattoo and buying an Ellesse tracksuit top. Apparently, he was also “looking forward to Derby Day”. Gulp. Be careful out there, reds.