1. In love, in fear, in hate, in tears
And breathe. Well that was
eventful wasn’t it? 2013/14 – so bad it was funny. Sort of. Since we last spoke
we’ve had three managers: the inept and unfortunate David Moyes (unfortunate
for being awarded a job he neither deserved nor applied for), the iconic Ryan
Giggs (more on that) and now the absent, but instantly likeable, Louis Van
Gaal. One manager in 26.5 years. Three in three weeks. The stats have taken one
hell of a beating. We wondered how the club
would react to the loss of Ferguson. This season we got our answer. The man’s
shadow loomed over Old Trafford with every crushing defeat. Every player performed
at 50% in his absence, some apparently unable to perform such menial tasks as
tying their shoelaces without the great man. Word is even the food in the canteen
deteriorated without him. The club’s in
crisis! The Moyes effect? Possibly. The Ferguson effect? Definitely. This isn't uncommon in popular culture. The Sopranos
begins shortly after the death of Johnny Boy Soprano. His son Tony is now running the family business, struggling to cope with the pressures of the modern world, trying to emerge from his father's shadow. The spectre of his father hangs over him like Banquo. Johnny
Boy is everywhere. Johnny Boy is nowhere. Ferguson is everywhere. Ferguson is
nowhere. The club was in mourning this season. They lamented the loss of the
boss. Their Steve Jobs, their Don Corleone, their Alex Ferguson. But such
institutions do not crumble and fade. They have a choice. They can use their
resources, their traditions, the pull of history and they can embrace the
future. They can take chances, they can follow their beliefs, and fulfil their
philosophies – they can rise again. And we will. The appointment of LVG is the
right move. A forward thinking, progressive coach, renowned for his work with
young players, this is the man Ferguson would never have appointed. This is the
rival. Good. Who knows how he’ll pan out in terms of trophies, but the impact
he’ll have on our young players will be immeasurable. In my pre-season piece I
made one prediction, “we will be OK.” I was very nearly wrong. But perversely, I
enjoyed this season. History unfolded before our eyes. Now I’m ready for normal
service to resume. It won’t be instant but it will happen eventually. History
demands it. So, not learning from last year's nearly fatal mistake, here’s another prediction:
Man United will never die.
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2. “You can’t always get what you want/
But if
you try sometimes you’ll get what you need."
The Rolling Stones
Steve Bruce was not a very
sexy signing. We acquired him from Norwich in 1987 for £800,000 when he was
approaching his 28th birthday. Eyebrows were raised further when
Ferguson shipped out Old Trafford favourite Paul McGrath. Bruce was hardly a
spring chicken, had achieved no international recognition and could list few notable achievements on his C.V. He was Steve Bruce. He had a broken nose, was
a good passer of the ball, bit slow on the turn but never missed a game, or a
header. He was a leader. When he signed he told the watching world he’d have
walked to Old Trafford if he had to. Nine years later, club captain Bruce had
overseen our most successful period since Busby and will be remembered as one
half of the greatest centre back pairings in English football. When we go into
the transfer market this summer we need quality. Of that there’s no doubt. But
more than that we need players willing to crawl to Old Trafford just to get a
game. Big money signings who don’t want to be there do not work. Anyone who’s
read Andy Mitten’s Glory Glory Man United (if you haven’t you should) will have
noted how honest Blomqvist and Cruyff were. They didn’t want to be there.
Cruyff’s father had just been forced out of Barca meaning Jordi had to leave and Blomqvist had his heart
broken at his dream club Milan. Veron would never have left Lazio had it not been
for a passport scandal. He did not want to be in Manchester. We shouldn’t take
it personally. But we should take it seriously. Young, hungry players, from
Britain and beyond will form the basis of our success. Anyone sat at home
checking Twitter five times a time hoping to sign Barca or Bayern’s rejects is
misguided. We have to produce our own, we have to get more from our players
than we have any right to expect and we have to start now.
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3. So long tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.
Growing old isn’t fair.
Watching Rio and Vida at Southampton we saw two men past their prime, in a
struggling side, their bodies no longer able to do what their brains were
asking. The lasting image of two old warhorses in need of putting down is too
easy to dwell on. It’s easy to consign them to the past thinking we’re better
off without them. It isn’t true. They must be remembered at their peak when
they took their team to greater heights than we dared to dream. Only Ronaldo and
Cantona won more games single-handedly than the brilliant Vidic. His
performance in Moscow is among the finest I’ve ever seen from any United
player. He had the ultimate quality: when he played I never felt we’d lose. I first noticed Rio in 1999. He was at the heart of a
West Ham defence that conceded seven at Old Trafford. Rio was a mess. He wanted
too much time on the ball and couldn’t head it. He had talent but looked like a
boy in a man’s world. How he changed. Getting away from the comforts of his
home club and into the wilderness of Yorkshire – no place for a Southern Softy
– was the best thing he could have done. He started to look a player. After the
disastrous defensive displays of 01/02 Rio was brought in as part of a revamped
back four. The anecdote he tells about his first training session is known but
worth retelling. He receives the ball from the keeper and plays it to Gary Nev
at full back. He receives an instant bollocking from Keane. You’re at United
now, the easy pass won’t do. Your game must have risk – and if you’re not good
enough you’re not good enough. Don’t hide. Rio’s mind was blown. He had to step
up. And he did. The Rio that was torn apart by Raul (1st leg) and
Ronaldo (2nd leg) did not stay for long. By 2006 he was the real
deal. He’d stepped out of the Keane and RVN shadow and became a leader. He was
at the heart of the new spirit that had engulfed the United dressing room. Together
with Vidic he became among the best in United and English football history. The
typical heroic English centre half is all blocks, lunges, blood and guts. Rio
was different. Always a step ahead of his opponent, he dictated from the back
and never gave the ball away. His brilliant positional sense and football brain
explain why he went two years (2009-2011) without receiving a yellow card.
These were golden times. En route to becoming European champions in 2008 we conceded
a miserly 6 goals including two clean sheets against Barcelona. In fact, with
Rio as captain, United went three full years undefeated away from home in
Europe (April 2007 to April 2010). Defensive master classes in Barcelona, Rome,
Porto and Chelsea allowed us to reach three European cup finals in four years.
In the midst of it all it was hard to realise how good we had it. We know now.
I don’t know Rio - and the stories this year haven’t been particularly
encouraging – but I’m willing to give anyone who dedicates their life to MUFC
the benefit of the doubt. The Rio I know is a guy who had enormous potential,
came from humble beginnings and left the home comfort of East London to further
himself in the foreign lands of Leeds and Manchester. The Rio I know is a guy
who handled himself with great dignity in the midst of a race scandal, who was
barred from playing for his country because the captain racially abused his
brother. I see a guy who made (big) mistakes, who wasn’t from Manchester, but
who made it his home. That’s the Rio I know. Only the very best get more than
10 years at MUFC. And he was the very best. And yes, he may have had a Cockney
accent, worn stupid caps, said ‘brap’ and sported those ridiculous corn rows
but he was still one of us. Rio, Rio he was a red you know.
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4. If Moyes falls in the woods and no one’s
there…
You’ll notice we’re at point
4 and I’m just getting onto David Moyes. It’s funny how quickly I’ve moved on
from the Chosen One. It’s not his fault he was so out of his depth – nothing on
his CV suggested he was in any way qualified for that job. That United got it
so wrong will go down as one of the most spectacular failures in the history of
sport. Moyes, to my mind, has already been consigned to the past. It feels an age
since I was in the stands watching a team I didn’t recognise produce some of
the most astonishingly awful performances in the history of top level football.
It’s not even worth using this forum to castigate Moyes – it’s simply not his
fault. But to say he was treated badly is hard to take. He was given a job he
didn’t deserve, proved pretty quickly that he was way out of his depth, managed
to survive nine horrendous months and had the audacity to a) ignore every piece
of Ferguson’s advice and b) blame all the players for what was going wrong. He
was genuinely looking to sell up to ten players this summer. It’s astonishing
how badly he did. At the start of the season I said: “he’ll be given time”. Thank the lord I was wrong. Moyes out.
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5. The Glazers make an ass of you and me
When Sir Alex Ferguson
announced his retirement the world was shocked. We knew it had to end one day
and, you’d have thought, so would the Glazers. Surely our beloved owners would
be prepared. After all, Ferguson was not only the club’s most important asset
he was also, you know, old. Old people retire. Even in this day and age old
people retire – it’s astonishing isn’t it? Over the past 8 years I’ve said numerous
times ‘the Glazers may be many things, but they’re not incompetent’. Hmmm. The
facts aren’t particularly encouraging. After years of planning they saw Ferguson
and Gill leave on the same day and replaced them with Woodward, Moyes, and a
squad on its last legs. But we all make mistakes right? The important thing is
to learn from them. We have always said, the Glazers know what they’re doing –
we just may not like what they’re doing. Now I’m not even sure of that. Down in
the money league, down in the actual league, botched every major succession at
the club including playing and non-playing staff we now find ourselves in a
total mess. Our commercial success has been the envy of the sporting world for
years now. So it’s no surprise to see other clubs replicating it. Soon they’ll
catch up and overtake us. City’s revenue is growing all the time and will
continue to do so as long as the football money bubble expands. Our future is
less certain. The Glazers have now gone cap in hand to LVG, begging him to get
us back into the Champions League desperate for the revenue that comes with it.
If he succeeds all’s well that ends well. If he doesn’t the Moyes blip will
quickly become the Glazers farce – and there’ll be no easy way back.
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6. “It’s good to be in a thing from the ground
floor.”
Tony Soprano
Nobody wanted to be the man
to take over from Ferguson. But the man who took over from the man who took
over from Ferguson – now that’s an interesting proposition. With the club on
its knees, we’re desperate for a hero. Step forward Luis Van Gaal. Aged 62,
with a C.V. the envy of Europe, LVG is quite the character. He’s also very
un-United - an enormous departure from the Ferguson ethos. He’s the antithesis
of what Gary Neville would call the Manchester United identity. But he is
exactly what we need. He is a kick up the backside. Identity is a misunderstood
concept. Just because you’re not British or didn't grow up in the academy does not mean
you can’t share philosophies and identities. Louis Van Gaal could prove to be
incredibly ‘United’. I’ve said before that belief in youth and desire to
succeed are not the preserve of Man United. Look around at Barcelona and Bayern
Munich – both reaping the rewards of constructive youth policies. Of course,
LVG can only take a small amount of credit for both clubs’ success but his
handiwork is certainly visible. If I was under 25 and playing for Man United
under LVG I’d be incredibly excited right now. LVG is joining us at a low ebb
with the chance to build something of his own from the ground up. If that
doesn’t excite the players then more fool them. If they fail they’re finished
as top-level sportsmen. After all, you might get away with blaming one manager;
you’ll never be able to blame two.
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7. Rotten to the core
Centre halves, centre mid and a
laboured strike force. The balance is all wrong. Rio and Vida are gone, Carrick
and RVP aren’t getting any younger. The spine of the team – its most important
component - is in desperate need of regeneration. Let’s put this into context. There
was a time Nicky Butt couldn’t get into the side. He’d be captain now. A 26
year old Wesley Brown would be the first name on today’s team sheet. This isn’t
to rewrite history and paint either of those players as world class (though I
adored both of them), this is to remind of the standards that predicate
success. People would have you believe United never really had a good teams,
they just had a good manager and tried really hard. In Barcelona ‘99 Butt
wouldn’t have played had Scholes and Keane been available (this was well before
the days of three in the middle – oh what a halcyon days). In Moscow Fletcher
wasn’t in the squad (though admittedly he’d been injured) and Hargreaves was
stationed out wide. Giggs and Park certainly weren’t playing centre mid. The
standards are enormously high if you want to win the top prizes. You cannot
scrimp and save on the core components of the side as we have done in the past
5 years. The most daunting prospect facing Van Gaal is not that he needs a new
team – it’s that he needs a new spine. The chance of finding the right players,
with the right character, who gel together quickly is slim. And
the truth, though unfortunate, is simple: weak core, average team.
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8. The man who wasn’t there
From the moment Paul Scholes
appeared as a pundit on Sky Sports, it was clear the landscape had changed.
This was without question the beginning of the end for Moyes. Scholes was
brought on to say what Gary Nev couldn’t – that Moyes was out of his depth,
that his signings weren’t good enough and that he wasn’t the right man for the
job. He may not have used those words but he came damn close. Neville, we’re
told, warned Giggs (and brother Phil) to distance themselves from Moyes. He was
toxic and they didn’t want to be tainted through association. It was a telling
piece of advice. This was more than a passionate fan getting involved – this
was a guy protecting a vested interest. The man who revolutionised football
punditry, Neville already sustains one conflict of interest in his role as
England assistant. His reluctance to castigate England players on MNF has been
noted live on air by Carragher. His refusal to explicitly condemn David Moyes
for fear of starting a witch hunt is proof that, though his analysis is
flawless, his position is not without its complications. With Giggs clearly
seen as the heir apparent the Class of 92 will have their say in the future of
the club one way or the other. A considered analyst, who puts facts before
emotion Neville has one of the most astute brains in football. At some point he’ll
have to step out from behind the curtain and take his place up on stage.
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9. O Captain! My Captain!
“O Captain! My Captain! our fearful
trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring…”
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring…”
Walt Whitman
In his
famous poem, Whitman laments the passing of Abraham Lincoln, and mourns the
loss of leadership, comparing him to the captain of his ship. Every cause,
organisation and club needs leadership. It needs inspiration – a man they can
look up to who can drag them from the depths of despair. Someone who can make
things happen. This United side is leader-less. It’s devoid of character and
needs a captain. Normally I turn my nose up at the importance assigned to the
captaincy in football. As far as I can tell the captain’s biggest
responsibility is sorting tickets for the games. But at this stage in time,
United are desperate. Van Gaal and Giggs from the sides can only do so much –
there must be more on the pitch. The rumours that Moyes intended to make Rooney
captain made me shudder. Now that Vidic is gone and Evra’s future is uncertain beyond
this year there is no obvious choice. That in itself tells its own story. RVP
has many of the necessary attributes but went AWOL last season in a way a true
captain never would. But someone has to step forward because, unlike in
Whitman’s poem, the prizes we seek are nowhere near won.
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10. "The wife's lactating/ I'm spectating/ it's a football thing."
Shaun W. Ryder
Is the world cup over yet? Bored.
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11. Is Ryan
Giggs
In the
company of other boy geniuses, Giggs rather let’s the side down. The story ought
to read: boy wonder breaks onto scene, sets new standards, soars to
unimaginable heights, then burns out and fades from view. True heroes don’t get
old. They don’t need to. It’s their myths that live on forever. Jim Morrison,
Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain – imagine what they could have achieved had they lived past 27. That they never grew old, to many, is a source of
comfort. Nirvana fans never had to see Kurt Cobain grow old and fat while fans
of The Doors were spared a 1980s Jim Morrison. Oh what could have been - so often the comfort blanket of hope for us all. But
Giggs is different. With Giggs there are no question marks. Giggs just was.
Giggs just did. And in doing so he destroyed the romantic view of the boy
genius who came, who saw, who peaked just before he had time to conquer.
Imagine if so-and-so had not had that injury, not been an alcoholic, not lost
his pace, if he’d played in a good team – imagine Giggs. Paul Gascoigne has
such revered status it’s astonishing to think he didn’t win a single league
title in this country. Oh what could have been! Wayne Rooney, the most exciting
16 year old I’ve ever seen, plateaued by 26. Oh but what youth he had! What if
he’d laid off the fags, what if Gazza had never touched a drop in his life,
what if, what if, what if? And then there was Giggs. Blessed with frightening,
God-given gifts here was a boy not interested in 'what ifs'. This boy wonder did
the unthinkable and put all these qualities to use. He didn’t squander them,
allowing us to sit misty-eyed after a few pints boring the younger generation
about the player Giggs ‘could have become’. He didn’t mind getting old. We talk
about Whiteside’s back injury, McGrath’s alcoholism, even the wasted late 20s
of the great George Best. We don’t lament a single thing about Ryan Giggs.
Because, Giggs just kept on keeping on. Each passing year we learnt something
more about his character. And he’s a hard man to get to know. Last night’s Life
Of Ryan had a common theme – how hard he is to read. That was the first thing
Rio Ferdinand said – and he should know he’s shared a dressing room with Giggs
since 2002. For the fans he was aloof and laid back to the point we thought,
perhaps, he didn’t care about football. It’s not uncommon for prodigious
talents, to whom everything comes so easily, to have one nagging question – am
I actually enjoying this? Players fall out of love with the game – it’s not
unheard of. Pianists lay off the ivories for a while, writers put down
the pen for years on end. They have lost their muse. They’re uninspired. Noel
Gallagher said everything he wanted to say in Cigarettes & Alcohol and Live
Forever. Everything else was just noise. Those were the poignant masterpieces
he wanted to share with the world – they represented who he was. But Giggs
always had something to say. He always had a point to prove. His Live Forever
was the semi final replay goal in ’99. For years I railed against the esteem in
which that goal was held. I wouldn’t argue with the quality but I didn’t want
his career to be defined by that one run and finish. But now, in the fullness
of time, I’m grateful for that goal. As Daniel Harris has said, a career that
had threatened to plateau with aesthetically pleasing moments, punctuated with
trophy after trophy, was suddenly elevated to immortality. As Phil Neville said
in the stunning Class Of 92 documentary, “this was Giggsy’s moment.” And then
there was the celebration. Just as Morrisey’s lyrics made The Smiths, so this
celebration made the goal. Here was Giggs, that aloof boy wonder to whom
everything came so easy, with those cold eyes, a man of no emotion, now
semi-naked totally lost in the moment. Gone were all calculations, all rational
thought, all self control – here was the ultimate expression of joy. Pure,
unadulterated joy. The sort of unconfined joy restricted to those who really,
genuinely, absolutely care. Here was a side to Ryan Giggs we had not seen. The
laconic celebrations of his youth (finger in the air) had given the impression
of a player who was too cool to care. But this Giggs – this Giggs with his top
off, twirling round his head celebrating with the fans – this Giggs was one of
us. Forward nine years Giggs finds himself in Moscow, now the senior statesman.
He’d missed a typically easy chance in extra time having refused to use his
right foot and, now, found himself with a much more difficult opportunity – a
penalty in a shootout against Petr Cech, the world’s best keeper. As he strode
to the spot, I flashed back to Old Trafford, March 1992. A young Ryan Giggs had
just missed a penalty against Southampton in the FA Cup. No one who saw that
penalty thought that boy would ever score from the spot for Man United. It just
wasn’t a skill he had. But this was Ryan Giggs. Not content with his unique
athletic gifts, he had it in him to try and perfect every footballing
discipline. In Managing My Life, Ferguson lamented that Giggs (in 1999) was too
obsessed with perfecting his game. He didn’t focus on his unique balance and
speed, instead wanting to improve his passing and his tactical awareness. But
this determination, a desire to be the perfect footballer, the best at
everything – this is the Giggs that scored the decisive penalty in Moscow. This
was a different Giggs. Different but the same. This Giggs would not gently into
that good night. This Giggs saw off young pretender after young pretender. This
Giggs moved into the middle, destroyed Fabregas, Gerrard, Alonso, Lampard and Ballack,
who pulled the strings in European cup quarters and semis, who drove United on
to new and unfathomable heights post-Ronaldo. The determination was in his
eyes. Those eyes that, as a young man, had hinted at indifference, now screamed
with defiance. And he was wonderful. Every shake of the hips reminded us
of the young Giggs but, in truth, he got better as he got older. Thrust back
into the heart of the side by an utterly desperate David Moyes he produced a
passing master class against Olympiakos. This is a special person. One who has
dedicated his life to our football club. This is not a time for sadness. All
things must pass. We are honoured that he should want to devote the next
chapter of his life to MUFC, working under Louis Van Gaal. He could have
travelled the world, sought new challenges, learnt new skills. Instead he’s
chosen to stay right where he belongs. And while this is the time to look
forward to a brighter future of infinite possibilities, I would be lying if I
didn’t admit disappointment that I’ll never again watch our number 11, eyes
focused, hips at improbable angles, poised “like a cocker
spaniel chasing a piece of silver paper in the wind”, with a defender helpless
on the floor. There
really was no better sight than Ryan Giggs in full flow. And unlike so many
prodigious talents before him this one came, saw, conquered and conquered
again. There will never be another. Ryan Giggs, football genius.
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