Manchester United vs. Tottenham Hotspur, 20 May 2004, Old Trafford, English Premiership

FORTUNE FAVOURS THE BRAVE by Aaron Wong

A professional performance by a Manchester United side still hurting from Porto’s exposé of their European inadequacies was sufficient to see off a Tottenham side that lacked the cutting edge when it mattered. Granted, by no means did the performance hearken to the free-flowing 2003 vintage, but it lifted the gloom off an Old Trafford crowd that must have thought their team had forgotten how to win.

A sublime 24th minute improvisation from the much-maligned Ryan Giggs made sure Spurs were always chasing the match, before two late goals from substitutes Cristiano Ronaldo and David Bellion added a flattering touch to the eventual score.

Again, United comfortably dominated their favourite opponents, who served as cannon fodder for United’s renaissance, but the impudent swagger was sorely missing. 3-0 was both a fair and unfair reflection of the match, as it illustrated the one-sided affair, but failed to show the chinks that still exist in the Red Devils’ armour.

Fortune was with the home side, though it stopped short of an overdose of luck that would have left sympathisers with a bitter taste in their mouth. United had sympathisers for their European exit, as their Old Trafford performance merited a better result; this time United got just their fair share of luck, but not really needing it against David Pleat’s side.

Let me explain.

On another day, Giggs’s side-heel in the six-yard might not have sneaked in. But it did.

On another day, Ronaldo’s screamer might have been touched wide by a more alert Kasey Keller, or flown just wide. Nope, off the post and in.

On another day of unsympathetic refereeing, Wes Brown’s accidental handball might have been penalised, with the score at 1-0. The referee gave the benefit of the doubt.

Lucky United? I don’t think so. United created enough chances to win comfortably, and in the end they did.

However, the emphatic victory failed to paper over the cracks that are painfully evident in every United match. Ruud van Nistelrooy, for so long United’s epitome of consistency, once again failed to deliver the goods. He seems to have lost the knack of finishing the half-chances, something he always did. It was painful to watch the Dutchman repeatedly try to do a Henry with jinking runs a-la-mode, but always giving the ball away. The ball always seemed to get stuck under his Nike-shod feet in the penalty area, and the frustration is starting to show.

His ineptitude was in contrast to the electrifying introduction of Ronaldo in the 75th minute. Suddenly, United’s laboured performance had an impetus about it, and fast breaks were fed down the right flank to the ravenous Portuguese wonder-kid. His reward came eventually in the last minute of normal time, as the Spurs defence again gave him too much space as he cut into the middle, and allowed him to pick his spot with an absolute belter.

His Welsh partner-in-crime on the left flank was truly in his element against a lightweight Spurs defence that failed to make its presence known, scoring with his supposedly weaker foot, and picking out Bellion for United’s third with a laser-guided through ball.

At the back, it was a heartening display from a United defence, but this was against an uni-directional Spurs offence, best characterised by the over-indulgent wing-play of Inter Milan reject Stephane Dalmat. Not quite up to the standard of his former Inter team-mate and countryman, Mickael Silvestre, who kept Jermain Defoe in his pocket all afternoon. Stronger opposition though, with a double header coming up with champions-elect Arsenal, would see the new look defence-sans-Ferdinand put through a much stronger litmus test of their chemistry. The return of old (though not necessarily wise) head Gary Neville might ease the growing pains though.

This match saw the return of the old guard, with none of Sir Alex Ferguson’s summer recruits making his starting line-up. It was a sweet déjà vu as the likes of Scholes, Giggs and Solskjaer hunted like a pack of wolves, and added graft to their craft to get the ball back when they lost it. Ferguson was trying to get back to basics by falling back on a team that had only last season been crowned champions. But they aren’t getting any younger. Also, some of the members have been left too far behind, and look like Bata shoes in a Nike showroom.

Diego Forlan spent the afternoon with a forlorn expression permanently on his face as chance after chance went a-begging. The Uruguayan is obviously out of his depth at this level, and the sooner he is offloaded to a short-sighted admirer the better. This was especially evident when a searing Giggs run ended in a cross that, although was too high for a near-post van Nistelrooy, landed perfectly at the far post for Forlan’s to either control and place it, or crack a volley in. He did neither. His expression was one of bemusement as the ball bounced off his thigh to safety. It might just be that little bit funny if you’re 3-0 up and cruising, but that was at 0-0. Surely our patience can’t tolerate such incompetence much longer. Louis Saha was a necessary and urgent acquisition, but surely Ferguson must invest in a world-class target man during the summer.

Roy Carroll may have kept a clean sheet, but for a keeper whose face emanates the confidence last reserved for Fabien Barthez, God help us if we are to rely on a Northern Irish journeyman who has not tasted international victory since the Middle Ages.

The two players just aren’t United material, and they’ve been around long enough for us to confirm that. To compound the malady, United are investing in the future with purchases like Celtic’s Liam Miller and China’s Dong Fangzhuo, when the need to catch up is now, before Arsenal get too far away. Fergie’s Fledglings aren’t getting any younger, and Roy Keane is no longer the imposing juggernaut he once was. So often the driving force behind United’s stirring comebacks, Keane himself has said he will retire if he can no longer contribute at his highest level. You don’t say these things if there’s nothing wrong. The decline has already begun.

The marauding runs that tore through opposition midfields are replaced by tentative square passes and late, apologetic tackles. The expression he gives referees say, “Cut an old man some slack, the legs aren’t working as they used to.” Vieira vs. Keane used to be blockbuster match-ups. Now it’s just the heavyweight champion against the veteran has-been. More worryingly though, United are far from replacing the Irish firebrand.

I could only admire as I switched over to the Arsenal-Bolton match that started 15 minutes late. Patrick Vieira was dominant with the easy languidness of a true thoroughbred, and there wasn’t much to suggest United can get a look in, but there remains hope. Like United, Arsenal had their share of fortune. Stelios I-can’t-pronounce-his-poulos hit the woodwork, and Bolton gave Arsenal their fair share of heart-in-mouth experiences, as Arsenal struggled to bury Sam Allardyce’s side. Ivan Campo even came close to a second goal with a last-minute volley. But then again, the hard work had been done in the first half. Arsenal is beatable, but then no side has combined class with chance to that effect.

If United do beat Arsenal twice, then it isn’t really that bad a season after all, is it? Second place, four points off the Gunners, Champions’ League next year, FA Cup champions, and a season under the belts of the new recruits. Liverpool would kill Houllier for that. Things could be worse.

The ball was shifting like a beach ball amid unnaturally high winds at Old Trafford. Litter strewn on the pitch was caught up in little maelstroms. Quite a sight, and the litter even looked a little bit like confetti. The season can end in the debris of a spectacular United fallout, or with muted celebration of some redemption.

The winds of change have arrived, and if United don’t set out sail, they’ll be left behind in Arsenal’s wake. What choice do we have? Bring on Arsenal.