The Devil In Me

Within every fanatic there is someone who genuinely likes football and appreciates the game at its highest level. Barcelona are simply sensational and it is a pleasure to watch them play. There is nobody to blame for United’s defeat at the hands of the Spanish giants and we have no choice but to be humble, magnanimous and respectful of what is a truly great team.

This Manchester United side have achieved everything they could have this season. They deserve great credit and I am proud of them. Faced with a far superior opponent we looked second best, there is certainly no shame in that. We held our own for long periods against what may well be the finest football team in history.

Pep finally manages to pass the kidney stone

Rooney was nothing short of brilliant. Not only his goal but also his work rate were inspirational. You can see from the look in his eyes that this will not be his, nor our, last Champions League final.

You could not have asked much more from our players. Perhaps Chicharito was a little anonymous, maybe Valencia a touch too sulphurous, but frankly, it wouldn’t have mattered much either way. We were simply torn to pieces.

The tremendous thing about Barcelona is that they are brilliant both with the ball and brilliant without it. As late as the 86th minute they were chasing the ball down in our penalty area. There was constant pressure. They didn’t need to do that. It is just one of many reasons why they are so good. It should also be said that this was a fair game. There was no play-acting, no dirty tackles that I could see. It was only impressive.

In his last game as a professional footballer Van Der Sar put in a performance that reminds us how much he will be missed. The acquisition of a new goalkeeper will be just one of the moves United make in this summer’s transfer window. The elder statesmen, Giggs and Scholes will now need to be replaced too. There can be no more chastening way to learn you need to spruce up your midfield.

One suspects that we have seen the last of Dimitar Berbatov as a Manchester United player too. He was not sat among the players party during the game and his omission from even the bench was glaring. Whatever the story is there you can be pretty sure it is goodnight Vienna for the Bulgar.

Much like in Rome two years ago Ferguson was left motionless on the bench for the last half hour, out of ideas. He knew the jig was up, it would be physically impossible to maintain the pressure we put on them in the first 17 minutes. The great man is realistic enough to recognise quality when he sees it; “In my time as a manager, it’s the best team we have ever faced. No one has ever given us a hiding like that”.

Well done to Barcelona, they are worthy champions and we are lucky we didn’t lose by more. But as a Manchester United fan I hold my head high, we gave it a real go and that was one of the best European Finals for a long while. Besides, we’ll be back; “We’ve raised our play in Europe over last few years because we wanted to. We’ll get better next year,” says Alex Ferguson. It has still been a great season and Manchester United will march again.

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The months leading up to the European Cup Final in 1968 were filled with more idealistic sentiments than those we are faced with today. The Beatles launched Apple Records and the musical Hair! (no connection to Bobby Charlton) opened on Broadway. Students were protesting against the Vietnam war and everybody in Manchester knew that Busby was walking towards his defining moment.

Scan through the news today and you will read about our troops overseas in conflicts nobody remonstrates about much, and how crucially important it is that a certain named unnamed footballer is hung out to dry by parliament and the media.

Having spent some time thinking about it, I am unable to come up with an issue less important than who a footballer spends his free time with. On the subject, I also couldn’t care less what any of players do away from their day jobs. Is it really any of our business to judge them? I think not.

The real judgments in this life are made over longer passages of time and whilst it wasn’t the most scintillating match in history, I very much enjoyed Gary Neville’s testimonial. Seeing Beckham wear the modern United shirt does make me pine for what might have been, and there are those who are livid that Rooney played at all, but the whole affair serves as a reminder that United get this kind of thing right.

The next thing that needs to be executed correctly is the ninety plus minutes that face us on Saturday at Wembley. For the past 25 years I have been attending games with my dad and his friends and one of their favourite stories has always been how they camped overnight to get tickets for the ’68 final. With United’s modern representatives making three in four years our generation can now rightly be called the lucky ones.

Ferguson will not want anything left to chance in London. There has been a quiet confidence oozing from the Scotsman over the last fortnight and you can be as sure as horses that he has something up his sleeve. In Moscow it was playing Ronaldo on the left and Hargreaves at right-midfield that flummoxed Chelsea, this season he cold-cocked Arsenal with the Da Silvas. There will be a tactical surprise at the weekend too.

My preference is for a team containing Giggs, Fletcher, Park, Chicharito, Rooney and Valencia. Unfortunately, Park didn’t do brilliantly in Rome and Fletch may not be fit enough. The back five pick themselves. Barcelona have looked very tired over the last couple of weeks, their series of clasicos seeming to have taken their toll. However, in Messi they do have a player whose skills transcend the boundaries of the sport. However well United play, the Argentinean is a man we may have no answer too.

So it is over to Fergie and his white rabbit routine. The next couple of days will be painful waiting for the kick off, but that’s nothing new. Today and always, we all follow United.

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Manchester United are champions of England for the nineteenth time and, like a broken pregnancy test kit, the city glowed both red and blue on Saturday night. One of my friends made the appalling decision to marry a City fan and neither of them can remember who trashed the house at the weekend. Who cares?

Let’s make one thing very clear, this victory is an astonishing achievement. I was very young when I was made aware of the statistics, at the time we may have been level with Aston Villa on league titles, and there were many who never though this day would come.

It has arrived.

Football is a comparative exercise, for all the talk of concentrating on our own team and paying scant attention to our rivals, sport is competition. It is only when you face up to your opponents that you know how your work stacks up against the standard. Manchester United are now indisputably the top team in this country. The debate is over.

It would also be churlish to do anything other than congratulate City on their FA Cup triumph against a club with a hundredth of their budget. The dynamism and excitement of their play at Wembley reminded me of Brazil 1970. Not. There is talk of changing the Stretford End’s banner to one that reads ‘43’ (years since they won the league). We shall see.

Talking of banners, those brave souls who went to Anfield on Sunday to unfurl the ‘MUFC 19 Times’ slogan have my full respect. Perhaps the closest Red Mancs can get to being suicide bombers.

Against a backdrop of instability with the playing staff (Rooney’s petulance, VDS’s retirement) and massive discontentment with the club’s ownership, Alex Ferguson has delivered the goods again. Whatever happens over the next few days, weeks or even years, this is time to salute the greatest manager of them all.
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One of the best atmosphere’s Old Trafford has produced in a while saw our most dominant display over Chelsea in living memory. And now the secret is out. This title, the nineteenth, is one hell of a big deal for this football club, and it is unthinkable that we won’t claim it now.

No season goes by without its peaks and troughs but this one in particular seems a wonder of achievement for Ferguson. Who could have predicted Rooney putting in performances like that back in the autumn? Quite frankly, if you had predicted this outcome to the title race when we were drawing with the likes of West Brom at home I may well have suggested you seek psychiatric care.

There can no longer be any argument about not only Park Ji-Sung’s place in the team, but his position in United folklore. His performance in particular was magnificent and he has written his way into United’s history books now. It was particularly cheering to see him out-tackle and out-fight Chelsea’s celebrated midfielders time and again.

There were flaws in the show too to be honest. Rooney, terrific as he was, was definitely guilty of trying to get Ivanovic sent off and the occasional bit if play acting. But against these opponents it cn’t really be described as anything other than fighting fire with fire.

How on earth Rooney contrived not to score I will never know, in fact, we could have had ten. There were nerves reappearing again last week after the result at Arsenal but you should always remember to keep the faith. After 36 seconds here that faith was rewarded.

This is a fantastic moment. One I shall cherish for a long time. Let’s hope we can play similarly well against Barcelona too.

Thank you Alex Ferguson. Thank you very much.

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If Navy Seals had stormed my home last week Darron Gibson would have been the first person I used as a human shield. What a difference a week makes. We have long said that United tend to make us suffer, but Fergie’s team-sheet for this game was nothing short of terrifying. Anyone who rocked up to Old Trafford expecting a light evening’s entertainment would have been in for a rude shock. Fortunately, the surprises were all positive in the end.

Some people call it mettle, others call it guts, the Spanish say cojones. Whatever it is, Sir Alex Ferguson has got a massive pair of them. United were dire on Sunday, putting in the kind of performance at the Emirates that makes you want to rip off your own leg just so you can hit yourself on the head with your shin bone.

It looked as though the whole season was about to fracture in the space of a few days and this second leg started to seem like much less of a formality. So whilst my fears spent four days expanding they nearly exploded when I saw the name Darron Gibson in the eleven for a European Cup Semi-Final.

As said in the last piece, memories of Leverkeusen loom large in these parts and we had put out a side well capable of losing. Perhaps this is one the reasons I am so addicted to this football club. It is never a steady stroll with Manchester United, we are always exposed to the full range of the emotional journey. I can think of no other club with such a capacity for drama and romance.

There was no love lost between Barca and Real in the other semi and alas this game was not the most sportsmanlike in history either. It would have been more understandable if this tie were on a knife-edge but, really, it was over after half an hour. We must realistically expect Barcelona to be slightly better than Schalke were.

Rationally, Antonio Valenica surely must be a first pick for all remaining big games. I am absolutely delighted for him scoring the opener. He is, by all accounts, a lovely bloke and nobody deserved that goal more that he did.

Five minutes before kick off I was apoplectic yet five minutes after the final whistle I could do no more than echo the sentiments of the poet Wayne Rooney, “how wrong was I?” Now, let’s unleash Gibson et al on Chelsea and sort out this league title too.

VDS, Rafael, Smalling, Evans, O’Shea, Scholes, Gibson, Anderson, Nani, Valencia, Berbatov

Heroes, every single last one of them.

Thanks to ESPN’s worldwide coverage Mark’s blog has been nominated for a People’s Choice Award in a far-flung land. Please click here and vote for ‘Manchester United Correspondent – Mark Payne‘. Don’t forget to press DONE when you are finished to make your vote count.

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