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It Was Only Manchester United

By The Boy -

Beating Manchester United or any of the sides we spent several decades getting routinely embarrassed by is a wonderful feeling. Sweeter still is them bitching and whining after the event about how they were robbed.

I’m fundamentally against the “things even themselves out in the end” school of footballing thought. It’s as helpful as saying you’ve prayed to the god of Longsighted Linos and asked for a miracle in a future fixture.

But it’s nothing shy of hilarious to see a Manchester United manager wailing about getting the poo poo coated end of the stick, from a referee at Old Trafford.

In January of 2005 I was watching the game in a toilet of a pub in Dun Laoghaire, which was awash with United fans. Roy Carol scooped the ball from a yard inside the Manchester United goal mouth. The only two Spurs fans in the place were me, and a local face, who just happened to be and ex Spurs player from the ’70’s, Tom Heffernan.

When the goal went in and then wasn’t allowed, the arrogance of the Utd fans reached, to use football parlance, fever pitch. There was no humility, it was more a case of we’re United, we win, now back in your box.

I’m no malnourished midget, and Tom is still the size of, and has the uncompromising presence of, an oak tree. We had another pair of pints to make a point before leaving, after the final whistle.

After yesterday, United fans’ belief that they have some divine right in games is finally extinguished. The back to back appeals for anything, something were like watching a 3 year old being dragged from a shop by an exhausted mother. “I want sweets, I want a toy, I want er… some soap powder… give me something!”

Whilst we won, and that was brilliant, I’d be hesitant about re-announcing our intentions to win the title, just yet. I’m not going to be as churlish as to suggest that we didn’t win it, that Man Utd lost it, but we it might be worthwhile looking at the entire game, opposed to repeatedly reading and rereading the scoreline.

This next bit is optional. If you’re perfectly happy doing that, you just carry on.

Sherwood’s set up was uncomplicated enough. 442, with a deep second bank of four designed to allow attacks, but stifle them amounting to anything. We would attack on the break. This worked. You can’t argue that it didn’t work, we won the game.

Let me be clear, as there are a handful of arsehσles that occasionally read my enlightening work. AVB wasn’t perfect, nor is Tim. But I’d would like a sentient mix of the two styles, if that was agreeable. No high line, replaced with no line whatsoever means we simply don’t press as a team. It’s on the break, or nothing. Our team pass completion rate was 74%, which gives you clue.

Whilst this may well get many of you incredibly excited with all its animation, we playing a pretty unsophisticated smash and grab football.Hence the fact we managed just 4 shots on target and 2 corners in total. Hence the fact we’re seeing crosses fly in to nobody and gaps in where a midfield ordinarily might be, big enough to park the QEII in. Or indeed, Michael Carrick.

The static nature of our rearguard invited more crosses than a bingo caller on amphetamines.

Look, of course it doesn’t matter if you get 300 corners, then fail to actually achieve anything with any of them. But the strategy employed here is fragile. The multitude of sins that were lurking beneath the surface under Slur Alex that are now dogging many of David Moyes’ games were all on show.

The first 20 minutes was grim. The relief palpable when we finally got the ball, but depressing that we seemed incapable of stringing more than 2 passes together. The next 40 minutes was more even, the last 30 much like the first 20. The overall possession split was 57/43 to them.

We contained. We broke. It worked. The concern has be, that against a better side, we would get ruined for offering up so much space and opportunity. Saturday’s game against The Arse will determine quite how robust or fragile, the system Tim has us laid out in, actually is.

One popular misconception looking at post match comments online, was that Azza Blud had a stellar attacking game. He didn’t. The shot on goal was the usual under hit, side-footed affair. It was as if the ghost of PSB was risen.

What Azza did do was improve defensively as the game progressed. And that was why he had a great game.

Hugo is still looking like a lucky dip bag. This isn’t due to residual concussion, it’s down to a hotch potch back four. Bonzo was good value defensively, but the highlight was his improvised star jump.

If Vlad was a superhero, he’d be Negator Man.

Dawson is fab with the ball in front of him, if it’s anywhere else, he resemble a bloke regaining his composure after standing on an invisible roller skate.

Rose didn’t look fit, but he was probably tired after laying out that enormous welcome mat on the right wing for United to use as a launch pad for all their crosses.

Eriksen and Ade saw more of the ball than anyone else. Ade’s problem was our lack of pressing. When he held the ball up waiting for reinforcements, it also allowed their lot to regroup. Eriksen’s goal was a real piece of bravery, one that needs to be commended.

Mousa had a solid enough game defensively, but was muted offensively. Perhaps this was tactical.I actually think it was a knock on effect of having no clue as to what a midfield does. Kapow! He was doing an increasingly decent number on Rooney and should never have been subbed. Bentaleb contributed nothing. Perhaps he was supposed to shore up Rose, but it didn’t really happen. If Aunty Wenger was paying attention, that’s where we left the door open.

Soldado is one of the most intelligent footballers in the division. Kane on for Roberto was a good move as Bobby was knackered. But Kane didn’t look fit either.

If Sherwood can pull a similar stroke at The Emptycrates on Saturday, then all power to him and the £XXXM worth of resources he has at his disposal.

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