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We Are The Champions

Typically, in a season that has become predictable in its unpredictability, United have settled into a decent run just as things are drawing to a conclusion. Whether we’re witnessing the final days of Van Gaal’s tenure or not (surely we are), there’s an excellent chance that as he departs for the sanctuary of his Portuguese villa in a few weeks’ time, he’ll be doing so as a ‘title’ winner. I can hear him now, his methods validated, all those hours of mind-numbing boredom a distant memory. “The English they never stop complaining, I won them a title! The FA Cup is a very important trophy in that country… they hadn’t won it for 12 years.”

Unfortunately, although silverware will be very welcome and moments like the goon that greeted Martial’s winner live even longer in the memory, it won’t be enough to save Van Gaal, ultimately. After a trying first year in which he at least delivered a top four finish, this season has been a backwards step and a huge disappointment overall. Although the final moments could well see him brandishing the cup and addressing an appreciative crowd in Albert Square, the dreadful monotony of the football witnessed between November and March shouldn’t be forgotten.

The quarter final replay at West Ham and the Wembley semi were stark reminders of what’s been missing far too often – genuine excitement. There are always peaks and troughs during a 60 game campaign, but barring a handful of moments from Martial and Rashford, the season mostly panned out as an excruciatingly long, uneventful slog. Win some, lose some, draw some… doing just enough to stay in the chasing pack without ever looking like we were growing in confidence and making progress. Wins were earned with scrappy performances, leads thrown away too frequently and the regular defeats didn’t prompt any kind of determined response or stunned reaction.

Van Gaal admitted himself that he’d run out of ideas at Christmas – a virtual resignation note – but he somehow survived and limped on. Since then, on each occasion his position has appeared untenable, a result has come along and bailed him out. The home draw against Chelsea, a win at Anfield, crushing Midjtylland, beating City away; all of these appeared as the sack seemed inevitable – but they still don’t mask the reality of where United find themselves. 9 wins out of the 17 league games since Christmas doesn’t demonstrate an upturn in form or provide any kind of justification for keeping him on next season. FA Cup or no FA Cup, it’s still not good enough.

During the Ferguson years, we used to hear a lot about players being selected to play for United based on personality as much as their abilities. Fergie spoke at length about youngsters’ family backgrounds being considered, and transfer targets being researched with a forensic level of detail level to ascertain whether or not they possessed the requisite character to fit in. Somewhere along the line we appear to have lost it because the team is now inherently soft. I don’t mean soft as in ‘crap in a fight’, it’s more about a lack of mental strength. The amount of times we’ve switched off in games this season or completely failed to impose ourselves for long stretches, demonstrates that something eludes us that we had in abundance previously.

Everton v Manchester United - The Emirates FA Cup Semi Final

The season was summed up for me at the end of January, driving home from OT having just witnessed a 1-0 defeat to Southampton. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a fair bit of time for Chris Smalling given how he’s one of few who have actually progressed in recent times, but his reaction to the defeat that day nearly made me switch to the opposite side of the road and plough into oncoming traffic. When asked about the result, he chirped up that the players were “disappointed not to draw”. Just consider that for a moment. Disappointed not to draw. At home. Against Southampton.

That, dear readers, said it all to me. The next captain of Manchester United went on national radio to express his feelings after another pathetic home defeat and the strongest response he could muster was to suggest the team were sad they didn’t hold on for a point. Seriously, if that was genuinely representative of the dressing room reaction then the whole team needs something very drastic. I’m not talking Mourinho, forget Fergie’s hair dryer – they deserve Roy Keane with full beard, coming off a 48 hour bender, mislaid his house keys so denied any sleep levels of rage.

If there is a managerial change in the summer, one hopes it helps to instil some desire and a collective sense of responsibility to the current group of players. I’m sure they’d be the first to proclaim “of course we care!”, but do they care enough in that crazed, siege mentality sense that turns disparate individuals into a team of serial winners? I just don’t see anything like that level of togetherness, currently. It’s hard to detect much of a bond between management and players, as Van Gaal’s methods appear to be tolerated rather than trusted. Admittedly this is speculation based on hearsay, body language and tersely conducted interviews – but the gloomy demeanour of everyone involved speaks volumes.

Van Gaal looked and sounded very subdued at the semi-final press briefings, both pre and post-match. Perhaps it was the pressure, maybe a sense of relief, but he no longer sounds in any way confident at the prospect of remaining in situ beyond May. Questions about the future were dismissed with a wave of the hand and he only wanted to discuss the performance. Fair enough, you might argue – but it’s very much a marked contrast from the indomitable bluster he’s come out with all season.

There will very probably be a number of people reading thinking, “what’s the problem?” Typically unappreciative fanzine scribe having a good moan and picking holes after his team has just reached a cup final. “Can’t you just be happy for once?” Well, clearly not. Winning the cup would be a great day out and a much needed fillip for everyone connected with the club, but that’s all it’ll be – a brief respite. Over the last 3 seasons we’ve strung 3 consecutive wins together just 10 times, whereas in Fergie’s last season alone we managed 8. Van Gaal is a good man who’s made hard work of a tricky rebuild, now we need someone to come in who’ll take us back to the top.

Enjoy the summer and I’ll see you in August.

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Break From The Old Routine

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Another month gone, another predictable run of results. These may be uncertain times for United supporters, but our monthly cycle seems to have settled into a familiar pattern. There’s the deeply uninspiring pair of defeats, a dull home draw and then a semi-arousing, unlikely victory to take some solace from. LVG pontificates in his post-game interviews, Mata blogs about the importance of focusing on the next game and then the whole sorry sequence starts once more.

Getting knocked out of the Europa League wouldn’t have been too big a deal except for the fact it had to happen against Liverpool. A quick glance at the team sheet prior to the first leg was enough to suggest how things would pan out. Fellaini and Schneiderlin are not a midfield pairing in a million years, with the Belgian producing a performance that was absolutely pitiful even in comparison with his usual sub-par offerings. There’s not a single United fan I know who doesn’t simply grimace and shake their head at the mere mention of his name.

There’s not one redeeming feature about Fellaini’s game at all. Graceless, snidey, petulant, clumsy… for the most part he ambles round the pitch breaking up our play, instead of the opposition’s. How he managed to stay on the field for the full 90 minutes is beyond me, and Van Gaal’s enduring faith in the guy’s complete lack of ability speaks volumes for the sorry state of his team. Things aren’t ever going to get any better with him roaming round, clattering into people and then looking utterly bewildered when the referee blows for each blindingly obvious infringement. He’s simply an awful, awful footballer.

Anyway, that long-standing gripe aside, Liverpool turned up whereas United didn’t. Marcus Rashford found himself playing right back during the 1st half… which was never going to turn out very well. The goalie, once again, was exceptional and ensured we weren’t 3-0 down at HT; how many times has that happened this season now? Martial battled gamely up front but there was nobody else willing to commit… which they were unable to anyway given we were being so comprehensively outplayed in midfield. Meanwhile, you’ve got Herrera, Schweinsteiger and Carrick all sat on the bench. In short, it was a complete mess and we were lucky to get out of there with only a 2-0 deficit.

The 2nd leg at least tee’d up the potential of an all-time classic, and it briefly looked like it might be happening when we went 1-0 up. United battered Liverpool for 45 minutes and were unlucky to be only ahead by a single goal as HT approached… even the crowd woke up from its usual somnambulant stupor and there was something approaching a genuine atmosphere to savour. A hint of venom in the air, players flying forward, decent goon for the goal… this was how we used to live.

Unfortunately, Coutinho’s exceptional goal killed any giddiness stone dead and the tie was over with the last kick of the 1st half. What a great player that kid is, incidentally. City must be kicking themselves after being suckered into paying £50M for the overrated Sterling when they could probably have snaffled him for half the price. Anyway, instead of any further heroics, the players trudged off whilst the crowd went into silent contemplation mode. It was a very sobering HT break watching the scousers balloon about letting off flares whilst we stood cursing ourselves for being naive enough to believe it was actually possible for a few minutes. Still, it was a nice reminder of how things used to be.

You know that it’s been a strange old year when a glance at the league table confirms that we’re 16 points behind Leicester City… whose closest challengers are serial bottlers, Spurs. They are more than likely going to win it with games to spare, which as an event in the football universe is about as likely as Fellaini edging out Messi and Ronaldo for the next Ballon d’Or. In these days of ‘big fours’ and plans for a revised, ‘closed shop’ Champions League, Leicester are a heartening reminder that football still has the ability to produce stories that contravene all common sense and perceived wisdom.

Ranieri’s team are being lauded as the nation’s sweethearts right now, and even a myopic old cynic like me finds it hard to wish them anything but the best. There was something on 5 live the other week inviting people to phone in and suggest sporting upsets that would rival them winning the title. Suggestions included Denmark or Greece winning the Euros, Wimbledon winning the FA Cup, some clown even proposed that Sheffield Eagles beating Wigan Warriors in the RL Challenge Cup bore comparison.

It doesn’t, of course – none of these events do. Cup successes of that ilk are simply based on a team stringing together 6-7 decent performances. Any underdog can win a one-off cup, whereas winning a title over the course of 9 months is a genuine test of nerve and endurance. Blackburn winning the league in ’95 doesn’t count, given they were buoyed by Jack Walker’s vast wealth. Leeds winning in ’92 is probably the closest in recent-ish memory, though they weren’t competing against the handful of billion pound behemoth clubs that inhabit the Premier League in 2016. 1992 was still a fairly level playing field in terms of competing teams’ cash and resources, nothing at all like the cabal that’s in place today.

So if Leicester do it, in team sports’ terms I reckon it’ll be just about the greatest upset ever – I can’t recall anything that eclipses it. I’ve never had any time for their frothing, little Inglunder support but if they end up winning it at OT next month, then I hope their team gets clapped off the pitch. They’ll have achieved something genuinely remarkable, putting like likes of Newcastle and Liverpool – teams who have squandered hundreds of millions over the years in pursuit of the title – to shame.

In 3 months time we’ll be sick of the sight and sound of them and they’ll be back to being a complete irrelevance, but in a season where watching United has felt like purgatory at times, Leicester have been a genuine breath of fresh air. Regardless of whether or not they implode on the final straight, the plaudits they’re currently receiving are richly deserved – they’ve been absolutely superb.

www.rednews.co.uk

Let Me Sleep Beside You

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After writing here last month in an indignant, post-Bournemouth strop, I was clinging to the hope that this season’s nadir had been reached. I mean, with the greatest of respect to Bournemouth, they are Bournemouth. It’s the land of blue rinses, retirement homes and tinfoil FA Cups… sort-of a posh, southern version of Southport or somewhere. Manchester United should not be going to places like Bournemouth and getting beaten more than once in a lifetime. But we are. That’s what we’ve become.

Things did get worse, however. Not content with wrecking weekends with alarming regularity, United then contrived to try and ruin Christmas too. Norwich at home, Stoke away… wretched performance following wretched performance. In the midst of this, the new Star Wars film was released and provided some brief, unexpected respite. I took my lad to Parrs Wood on the opening weekend and it was almost baffling how enjoyable it proved… 2 hours of pure, unadulterated entertainment and escapism. I’ve always been firmly against the idea of big screens at the match but if they could show that (or similar) during the game as an alternative to suffering the football, then it could make visits to OT tolerable again in the short-term.

As I’ve alluded to previously, the problem is only partly due to results. The team is being rebuilt, so we don’t expect to win every game and we certainly aren’t expecting to be winning titles any time soon. The lack of invention, the negative tactics, the safety first mentality… these are what feel like an affront and are the source of the all-consuming malaise that envelopes OT at present. Okay, so the happy clappers in J Stand might still be right behind “Louis Van Gaal’s Red and White Army” for their customary 10 minute sing-song, but the vast majority of his foot soldiers, at least those of my acquaintance, have simply given up believing and are now counting the days until he’s gone.

Looking at United’s record over the last couple of months, it’s absolutely remarkable how Van Gaal still finds himself in a job. He offered what was tantamount to a public resignation following the Norwich loss, after which the OT press bods turned their phones off causing widespread speculation that an announcement was imminent. Days later, the manner of the defeat at Stoke appeared to be the death knell. As well as admitting that he was contemplating resigning, Van Gaal also went as far as conceding he was no longer confident of his ability to turn things round. If he wasn’t a broken man at this point, then he was certainly doing a very good impression of one.

Surely then, it was just a matter of finalising the paperwork and agreeing the terms of his settlement? Nope, as he was still in place for Chelsea – not exactly buoyant, but still clinging on and trying to sound optimistic again. One slightly improved performance later (we didn’t get beat and even attacked a bit!) and his position was seemingly secure once more – as secure as it could be following yet another 0-0 draw and no win in 8 games, anyway. Mourinho meanwhile, together with the rest of us willing the board to take some decisive action, must have known at this point that the call was never going to arrive.

So Woodward and his paymeisters, presumably, are instead trying to buck the modern trend of crowd-pleasing decisions and premature sackings – Man United doing things differently and all that. At the opposite end of the scale you’ve got Real Madrid, where Rafa Benitez, despite being a clown, has just been given his cards off the back of three defeats all season and crucially, a 4-0 spanking by Barcelona. They won 10-2 a few weeks ago ffs! So it’s an admirable enough sentiment, this measured approach – but is really in the club’s best interests?

If this miserable run was merely a blip or had interrupted a good run of form, I could see the sense in remaining patient – but barring a decent run last March, United have been truly appalling to watch for the last 12 months. Even when we briefly went top of the table earlier in the season it didn’t ring true in the slightest. Given the overall lack of quality at the top of the table, if we were a half-way decent side we would be right up there challenging at this point. Instead, we find ourselves going through the motions whilst looking up at the likes of West Ham and Leicester. Okay, so there are injuries – but they are nothing new and are to be expected. There should be no excuses and we need to face some Bentitez-style ‘fachts’ – the level of performance being churned out is absolutely pathetic.

We’ve currently reached the stage where losing a 2 goal lead against a beleaguered Newcastle side is seen as an improvement – simply just because we scored a goal on the counter-attack and there was some excitement and a taste of the unexpected for once. 3 years ago, chucking away points in such a manner would’ve been seen as disastrous, but now it’s viewed as grounds for optimism. That’s what we’ve been reduced to, it’s right up there with our recent “brave” European exit in the straw-clutching stakes.

The trip to Anfield saw yet another abject display. Two poor sides with millions lavished on them, proving once more that Liverpool-United no longer deserves its billing as one of English football’s showpiece fixtures. These days, it’s just two formerly great sides, living on past glories and showcasing nothing except the bloated excesses of the Premier League. That said, beating them remains one of the greatest things in the world… and almost makes you forget the rest of the crap we’ve been forced to suffer over the last 3 months. Almost.

For all Van Gaal’s faults, and however grim the football, it’s becoming increasingly clear that unlike most of his managerial contemporaries, he’s still able to draw on vast reserves of good fortune when it’s needed most. Defeat, or even another draw at Anfield would have led to renewed pressure and intensified calls for change. Instead, despite another thoroughly miserable performance, Rooney scores and we sneak out with a scarcely merited 3 points. Louis then, emerges unscathed from yet another trying week. Roll on the next riveting instalment…