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Changing Of The Guards

“People normally die before they get a statue…I’m outliving death.”

Certain sections of tinfoil-hat wearing, mainly internet-based, rival supporters have long since bandied the opinion that once Sir Alex Ferguson vacates the manager’s seat at OT, they’ll finally be able to compete on some sort of level playing field. According to this species, as the elder statesman of the Premier League, Fergie has everyone in his pocket: Referees are terrified of him; the FA likewise and his hand-picked, old-boys network of fellow managers remain so in awe, out of sheer deference they don’t even bother to give us a game.

Well that’s a load of bollocks, surely? And yes, it’s easy to laugh it off and dismiss such notions as the embittered ramblings of deluded cranks, but then you stumble across a comment like this from Sam Allardyce: “It was good to catch up with Sir Alex on Wednesday… I popped in to have a quick glass of wine with him before I left. His enthusiasm and drive never dims and he was in good form, which is why he’s the best manager in the world.”

Oh pur-lease. That was actually the real Big Sam by the way, not the similarly smitten twitter parody, speaking after West Ham’s visit to OT a couple of weeks ago. Now let’s be brutally honest here, would you be happy to hear stuff like that coming from your team’s manager following a defeat? Me neither. It goes beyond mere flattery and instead enters the realm of blatant arse-kissing. Turn it in, for christ’s sake – it’s embarrassing.

After clocking 25 years at United last November, this year’s anniversary saw the unveiling of the promised statue (it’s no Ted Bates, at least) complete with the obligatory round of gushing tributes, tv spots and celebratory lunches. Call me a miserable bastard for pointing this out, but the whole thing just smacks of overkill now…how much more does Fergie’s (of course, immense) contribution need to be recognised? The testimonial, the North stand re-named, the statue…never mind “outliving death”, he’s not even retired yet.

It’s now over a decade since his aborted departure and Fergie cannot of course, go on forever. Unlike 10 years ago, it’s fair to assume that the gap between the announcement and timing of his farewell will be brutally swift this time out – and we’ll have a pre-ordered replacement waiting in the wings as opposed to embarking on a public game of kiss chase. One would hope that discussions are already underway, knowing as we do that the man himself has met with both Mourinho and Guardiola in recent weeks. It would surely come as a major surprise to learn that one or the other hasn’t already been sounded out re: future plans and their thoughts on taking over at United.

Of course this is all speculation and there remains the very the distinct possibility that he’ll stay on beyond next summer – but I’m not going to be surprised if this proves to be Fergie’s final season. Following his health scare in the summer, remember that another of his supposed cronies, Dave Whelan let slip (or was misquoted…whatever) to ESPN, “after next season, Sir Alex will call it a day.” The volte-face of the Van Persie signing (a premium price paid for an ‘over-age’ player) was a clear relaxation of the previously employed transfer policy, and smacked of a ‘shackles-off’ attempt to sign off on a high. Perhaps most tellingly of all, and at the risk of sounding unkind, at times he really hasn’t looked well in recent months.

As things stand now, there could well be managerial vacancies at each of the top four clubs at the end of the season. Roberto ‘one twitch away from a straightjacket’ Mancini’s position remains as perilous as ever – given City’s failure in Europe, even repeat Premier League success may not be enough to save him this time out. Wenger’s job has always been secure enough, but murmurs of discontent at Arsenal are growing louder by the week. Meanwhile at Chelsea, our old friend Rafa Benitez will be doing well to survive beyond Christmas given the catastrofuck of a start he’s enjoyed.

Once it occurs then, the announcement of Ferguson’s retirement may well kick start a seismic series of managerial manoeuvres. Given the modus operandi at Chelsea, its difficult to see what appeal lies there (beyond a bottomless pit of money) for Mou or Pep, namely due to the fact the club operates on the whims of a perma-dissatisfied, billionaire control freak. It’s become clear that Abramovich will never be truly content until he abandons the pretence of employing a stooge to carry out his wishes, and instead takes on the gig himself full-time.

City meanwhile, in true City fashion, are almost certain to sit tight whilst attempting to second-guess United’s next move… before no-doubt offering double the salary to our preferred candidate. Whatever noises they make about Mancini’s job security, they would surely be ecstatic to appoint Mourinho or Guardiola next summer, either would do – and even better if their man appeared to snub United prior to being appointed.

Despite not being able to offer the biggest wedge in transfer kitty terms, one senses that United would be the preferred next stop for both Iberian kings-in-waiting. There’s the prestige of the job, the history, the tradition…and despite what we feel about the Glazers, there’s little evidence to suggest major board-level interference in the day-to-day running of the place. Given the daily politicking behind the scenes at other big clubs at home and abroad, United must appear blissfully stable in comparison – as stable as you can be whilst owing £400M to various creditors, anyway.

As well as the two current front runners of Mourinho and Guardiola, David Moyes remains well placed. Despite not being quite sure why though, the thought of him at OT just makes me think ‘Dave Sexton’ – not that I’m craving a Big Ron-style showman who’ll deliver ‘antics’ on cue (nailed on if we went down the Maureen route), but he just strikes me as a man who’s already found his level. I know he’s done well at Everton but is it enough to take on the United job having merely ‘done well’? Surely we should be looking for someone who’s done ‘fucking brilliant’? Finally there’s Ole Solskjaer…or even Giggsy. Fergie could move upstairs and oversee things whilst they do a Wilf McGuiness – hopefully with better results and without suffering early onset alopecia, of course.

Merry Christmas all.

www.rednews.co.uk

Seven Days Too Long

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Due to the constant interruptions of international football, it’s taken 3 months for the season to get going fully this time out. Thankfully we’re now properly underway – a dozen league games in, the clocks have gone back and we’re immersed in that reassuringly familiar, metronomic two game a week cycle. Midweek games providing a reason to leave the house for any reason other than work, and the outcome of Saturday/Sunday games (still, pathetically) dictating whether we’ve enjoyed a good weekend or not. Bloody love football, me.

Even by our own exalted standards, the last 4 or 5 weeks take some beating in the entertainment stakes. It’s been kamikaze stuff, calamitous at times and it surely cannot last…but what a ride. One red summed it up perfectly on the forums, saying “It’s brilliant watching United at the moment, but not at the time…if you catch my drift.” I couldn’t agree more. We have defenders who can’t defend, midfielders who can no longer run or tackle, a tactical over-reliance on hopelessly out of form wingers…yet despite these shortcomings we look thrillingly, almost ridiculously potent during those brief periods of play when everything clicks and we start stringing a few passes together.

No matter who provide the opposition, it’s become impossible to decipher which United are going to turn up. There’s the tentative, slow-starting, cautious side who continually attempt to ping balls out to Valencia on the right – a tactic which has become tiresomely predictable of late. Whereas on the other hand, the team look capable of scoring at will when the mood strikes – we’re blessed currently with Van Persie and Hernandez both enjoying periods of form that forwards can only dream of. The pair of them are currently on fire to the extent last season’s successful pairing of Rooney and Welbeck can’t even get a look in.

Having bemoaned both performances and the increasingly stifling tactics employed over the last couple of seasons, the current ‘shackles off’ madness we’re witnessing surely has to be seen as something to cherish. Whether it’s come about by design or accident (and it’s probably the latter), there’s something very ‘Manchester United’ about how we’re currently set up. Take the comeback from 0-2 down at Villa – was there anyone in the country who didn’t expect us to turn things round?

Villa Park of course, remains the away ground of choice for many time-served reds. The scene of countless memorable days and nights out in the past, in this era of soulless, identikit stadia it remains an old-school throwback to the days of proper football grounds. Not too far away, numerous drinking spots and crucially, despite the best efforts of the WMP – the fixture has yet to befall the same fate as numerous others and get lumbered with an enforced, early afternoon kick-off. It’s just a shame they won’t triple our allocation so we can make our presence felt off the pitch too…and on it when the opportunity arises (thinking Ruud’s winner in the cup here, clearly).

Birmingham gets a bad rep from many folk, but I’ve always enjoyed the time I’ve spent there and have developed a bit of a soft-spot for the place. The non-Zulu affiliated locals are friendly enough and the city centre itself has never struck me as the out-and-out shithole it’s often dismissed as being. Of course that accent remains a concern, but it’s nothing on a par with the bizarre Welsh/Scouse hybrid that the inhabitants of Stoke are blessed with. Birmingham is alright. Shit in comparison to Manchester, obviously…but it’s alright.

As regards the match itself, despite barely registering a shot on target during the first hour, you just knew that once Villa had tired and defending a lead became their priority, we were going to see some reward as the game reached a conclusion. It was as obvious as that West Ham away game a couple of years ago, in that you just sensed the comeback was inevitable. Don’t get me wrong, its not exactly relaxed viewing – it’s full-on ‘watch through your fingers’, heart-attack inducing gear…but would you rather have it any other way?

The “United never lose, they run out of time” maxim is usually attributed to Steve McClaren, a motivation-speak soundbite that nicely encapsulates the never-say-die spirit of the ’99 treble side – perhaps even the entire Ferguson era. Evidence of its legacy has never been witnessed so regularly as in recent weeks. Amazingly, despite us only being in mid-November, already this season we’ve recovered to win after going behind on 7 occasions. Our ability to mount a comeback from a losing position has become so accepted in football, the occurrence is now met with an almost blasé reaction from some commentators.

Sooner or later, one fears, (and I’ve got one eye on the forthcoming derby here) we’re at risk of getting hammered if this continues, which will no doubt prompt a re-think on the current ‘fuck it, we’re Man United, let’s just outscore them’ mindset – we’ll instead start focusing on trivial stuff like defensive stability, keeping possession and perhaps not going 0-2 down every game. Until then, let’s just revel in scorelines and comebacks that are straight out of the 1950’s or FIFA 13. (Two reference points there, y’see? – one for the oldies, one for the youngsters. Smooooooth.)

I don’t wish to appear deliberately downbeat in bringing up the ‘spectre’ of meeting City, but given how things stand at the minute, it’s difficult not to draw parallels with where we were prior to last season’s 6-1 reverse. United looked similarly well set then – City arrived with us fresh off the back of an early season run that had seen us swat aside Chelsea and destroy a sorry-looking Arsenal, all whilst playing a brand of carefree, irreverent football not unlike what we’re witnessing at present.

So how to approach City? As far as I can see there are two distinct options. Either we go there with a reprise of the tactics that were employed at Eastlands back in April, attempting an ill-conceived, containment job with a packed midfield and one up-front in the vain hope of nicking a goal…or even creating a chance this time out. Alternatively, we block any lingering thoughts of anaemic, stilted creativity and go there looking to smash them. The way Manchester United always should do.

Attack! Attack!…Attack! Attack! Attack!

www.rednews.co.uk

Diamonds Are Forever

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It’s been a stop-start beginning to the season, both in terms of the incessant international breaks that dictate the calendar at this time of year and the stuttering football we’ve witnessed. On the whole though, with some dodgy looking away games already out of the way – things aren’t looking too bad with us sat in 2nd place, 4 points behind Chelsea.

Though he’d never admit it, Howard Webb must dread being allocated our games. Despite seeing off Newcastle quite comfortably, you just knew that the next day’s headlines were going be made by some perceived injustice stemming from the fact he was in charge. This time it was a stray Van Persie elbow and the fact that Webb had the temerity to rule out a Newcastle goal because it HADN’T fully crossed the line. Pathetically, Radio 5 actually opened their sports coverage with this story the next morning. Talk about playing to the masses…

Despite ultimately ending in defeat, the Tottenham game a week earlier was a stormer – such a shame that it it took us being 0-2 down to garner any kind of response from the players or the crowd. It’s become a familiar script: we start off slowly and seem content to simply sit and contain – the tempo only increases once the realisation dawns we’ve fallen behind and oh shit, now we’ve suddenly got a game to chase.

Giggs was awful yet again and the reasons for starting him get less and less clear as the months/years tick by. I mean, starting Giggs and Scholes together was clocked by most of us as a big no-no 3 or 4 years ago, yet we’re still persisting with the idea now. Just play The Brand, that useless lump Anderson even, get the tombola out to see what that throws out…just not Giggs and Scholes in tandem anymore. Next month they’ll have a combined age of 77. SEVENTY SEVEN. Enough now. Please.

Still, it was a great 2nd half after Rooney’s introduction – very nice to see him bang on it with his touch seemingly back in place. The OT crowd woke up briefly too, for the 1st time in ages it actually felt like I was at a football match. Once upon a time the schrill sound of school kids was only heard at reserve games or pre-season friendlies; nowadays it’s a weekly occurrence…and a fairly welcome one as at least it punctuates the silence from the home crowd and the incessant ‘who are ya’s and ‘Fergie’s right, your fans are shite’s emanating from the away section.

Having been ripped to shreds by Spurs during that 1st half, we’ve managed to get back on track via the introduction of what Fergie has proudly christened ‘the diamond’ – without getting too ‘zonal marking’ about things, it basically looks like we’ve temporarily abandoned ‘the doughnut’ to experiment with the novel idea of playing midfielders…in midfield. I know, amazing isn’t it?

The diamond got its first outing in the (urgh) Capital One cup tie at home to Newcastle – and what an utter shitcunt of a competition that is these days. How United manage to get away with charging nigh on full price for reserve games is nothing short of scandalous – but they’ll continue to do so knowing most ST holders are obliged to buy a ticket regardless of whether they actually want to go…the prospect of not wanting to miss out on a Cup Final ticket is surely the only explanation why any non-masochist would subscribe to the ACS and willingly pay to watch such garbage.

I don’t know anyone who looks forward to these games and whatever minor relevance the competition might have enjoyed in years passed has long since expired. All season ticket holders I know watch the draw hoping we’re handed an away tie so their card isn’t charged another £40…there’s something very, very wrong when that’s the case. Ditto the amount of people who buy a ticket and can’t face attending…and those like yours truly who are brainless enough to pay, turn up, then disappear at HT for the more appealing prospect of watching the 2nd half in the pub. I guess if we’re daft enough to offer up our credit card details to the club, then we’re also daft enough to merit the routine shafting we’re dealt.

Talk of routine shaftings brings us to the first European away trip of the season. I’m too old and my mortgage is too big to contemplate a 4 day, autumnal jolly to Transylvania, but a good time was enjoyed by all who made it, I’m reliably informed. Nice weather, friendly locals, beer at 60p a pint, far enough away to put off the knobhead contingent…Cluj was always destined to be a good trip.

“None of our lot arrested, 2 hours sleep out of 55, got banned for life by Jet2.com…just a good piss up really”, was how a younger family member succinctly summed up his experience. Oh and if you were confused and somewhat disturbed like I was about the large amount of shirtless ballooning going on – that was mainly down to 50 odd Polish barmies who turned up in our end, apparently. Thankfully they didn’t start Poznaning and lower the tone further still.

Watching at home on telly only hammers home how deathly dull the group stages of the Champions League have become – even Tyldesley and Townsend in the commentary box were struggling to sound remotely enthused during the 2nd half. Like last year, we’ve been beneficiaries of a ridiculously easy draw that virtually guarantees progression to the knock-out stages. Unlike last year, it doesn’t look like we’re going to contrive to fuck things up spectacularly this time round. Progress of sorts, then – perhaps another routine final humiliation at the hands of Barca isn’t out of the question?