ManUtd 2-1 Arsenal : Class with the Brass

April 17, 2008

It is ridiculous that a man of my age should be losing sleep over football matches, but there you go. Each time the season reaches its climax I become convinced that this title is the one that really matters because it might be our last as our rivals will surely mature or improve, but Fergie keeps coming up with the goods. You feel that as long as he is here and avoids unfortunate relationships with racehorses the inevitable collapse will be staved off.

Yet, despite my fear that a failure to win would herald one of those agonising periods when the title slips out of your grasp and there is not a thing you can do about it except sit with your head in your hands, I was excited about this match rather than afraid and I soaked up the pre-match atmosphere on the Warwick Road. On crucial days like this, it really takes you back.

We had selected Pique to partner Rio in an otherwise full strength defence. I thought this the right choice, but was surprised that Park was picked in favour of Giggs on the flank. The real problem I had was the absence of both Anderson and Tevez, and Rooney playing on his own up front.

To my mind we had destroyed Arsenal in the Cup, and triggered their poor end to the season through out and out attack. For me this was not a day to be cautious; an early goal could destroy them and we have shown we are one of the few teams in Europe who can do this to Arsenal.

Alex Ferguson was awarded the albatross award of manager of the month and Ronaldo was given the player of the month award. Ronnie seldom performs at his best when someone has just given him an award. Still, the match kicked off with the crowd in strong voice, the Spring sun had come out and Arsenal whom everybody agreed had to win to keep their title hopes alive, were clearly up for it. Not so United.

By the end of twenty minutes we had hardly seen the ball. Possession statistics were 25%-75%. Ronaldo was being shackled by Gilberto and Clichy, the defence collectively was looking uncertain, Park looked out of his class and, sorry to say, so did Paul Scholes, who could do little right. It looked as if they had more men than us. Hleb, in particular, was having a field day. Every United pass seemed to find an Arsenal shirt, every clearance was being won by an Arsenal head, every United player was being closed down, Arsenal had put together three or four expressive and impressive moves.

At this point, coincident with the arrival of Tom in the seat next to me, United turned up the work rate and achieved something approaching parity of possession. We should have gone behind when another Arsenal move ended with Van der Sar smothering Adebayor’s weak shot with relative ease. Within seconds, we could have gone ahead when Rooney picked up the ball and homed in on goal, only for Jan Lehmann to save with his boot.

This had been the pattern; at one end Wayne Rooney simply could not convert the opportunities he carved out for himself, and at the other Emmanual Adebayor, the second highest scorer in the league, could not hit the proverbial cow’s arse with a banjo. Despite the equality of the chances (eight each by half time, three each on target) the superior possession of the visitors had rendered the United crowd pretty silent.

Any hope that our survival in the first half meant that the Arsenal threat was past was destroyed in the first significant move of the second half. Evra fouled van Persie on the United left, some way out. Van Persie took a short free kick to Hleb and when the move broke down it was van Persie, now wide on the Arsenal left, who crossed.

Adebayor appeared to head the ball in, unchallenged as Ferdinand, Carrick and Van der Sar stood around and watched. In fact the goal was twice illegal. Ferdinand had refrained from the clearing header because of a shout of “Keeper” behind him, which did not come from a United player, and Adebayore handled the ball into the net. Admirably but curiously there was no protest; 47 minutes 0-1.

The setback led to intense activity on the United bench, but before anything materialised from this Rio had brought a brilliant save from his own goalkeeper, nearly turning in Adebayor’s cross. Up the other end the generosity was reciprocated when Carrick’s hopeful ball into the area was handled by Gallas. Ronaldo did the business from the penalty spot, waiting for the storm to subside, then coolly running, stopping for ages and resuming to crack it high to Lehmann’s right.

But five or six players were encroaching when the kick was taken. Referee Webb might have let it go were it not for Park, who was a good ten yards inside the area and almost obstructing the referee’s view as Ronnie shot. Cue another round of protest, but Ronnie, cool as you like, did the same, this time slotting an even better penalty low and very hard into the side netting. The obnoxious Lehmann dived well but could not get a touch; 52 minutes 1-1.

Tevez and Anderson came on immediately and Scholes and Park came off; this was sadly but clearly necessary, and it transformed the match. Suddenly the United crowd was in full voice and we had energy and fight equal to that shown by Arsenal; Tevez ran and chased and fought for everything in advance of the half way line, and Anderson had a superb match, all strength and fight, winning the half winnable tussles and yet always being free for the pass in the middle of the field; it was United now, and not Arsenal, who were running the middle and several players, not least Rooney and Carrick, were benefiting.

The jitters were not yet entirely done; Van der Sar again had to be sharp to prevent an own goal, this time from Brown. One of the effects of midfield control was that Evra, who had done well under siege, was released up the flank. His beautiful little through ball to Rooney should have been a goal, but Lehmann parried Rooney’s shot. It came back to Evra who was fouled by Gilberto just outside the area.

Hargreaves put the ball down very carefully but Ronnie stepped back and struck the pose, so we (and more importantly the Arsenal defence) began to wonder who would be taking it. Anderson was standing just the other side of the wall, jumping up and down and waving his arms about and generally annoying Lehmann no end. It was unsporting and very funny; just what Lehmann deserved. I was afraid he would be offside if the kick led to a goalmouth scramble but with minimum fuss Hargreaves took a couple of strides and hit it clean over the wall and down inside the left hand post. Lehmann did not even have time to shift his weight to the other foot; 71 minutes 2-1.

Everyone waxes lyrical about the beauty of Arsenal’s play; there is more to sport than that. We were privileged to be witnessing a powerful and comeback. The determined, driving powerplay of potential champions when things are not going smoothly.

Arsenal continued to give it a good go. They got closest when substitute Bendtner had his header pushed onto the post by Van der Sar. But with Anderson and Tevez, Rooney and Carrick pressing on every counter attack, and even below-par Ronaldo now freer to cause mischief, the outcome had the look of inevitability about it. We were singing choruses of “Bertie Mee said to Matt Busby”, one of my favourite nonsense ditties, and there was a feeling of relief and celebration.

When Webb announced four minutes added time (where on earth did he get that from? There were no hold-ups at all) it looked as if nails might be bitten shorter, but United had the sense to spend most of the time playing keepball just outside the Arsenal area. The end came to great celebration and unkind chants of the self-evident “You’re going to win fuck all”.

As we walked down the Warwick Road singing the Anderson-son-son song in the Spring sunshine (there were showers during the match, but the clouds had parted now, appropriately) it was such a good feeling. A long but reasonable drive home, and for the first time for a week a good night’s sleep; Arsenal are out of the title race. Now I can start waking up at night fretting about the Blackburn match.

Twenty five years of nothing taught me to take nothing for granted; it really might be our last chance to win the title and don’t any of you Johnny-come-latelies think differently. In all the years since the second world war the championship has been retained but twelve times. It is no mean achievement. This might be the thirteenth.

ManUtd 2-1 Arsenal : Class with the Brass

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ManUtd 2-1 Arsenal : Class with the Brass

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