The footballing silly season has already commenced. Constant speculation about David de Gea’s long term position at Old Trafford (clue, there isn’t one), Jake Livermore of Hull Tigers has tested positive for cocaine and this morning, the Daily Star had a front page lead about a player who had been keeping his teammate’s wife company. But none of that could beat yesterday’s drama.
The most memorable moment of yet another dreadful first half at Old Trafford was when Jonny Evans passed the ball back to David de Gea from near the half way line in the 22nd minute. A wayward corner from Ashley Young ended up with Daley Blind on the opposite flank. He passed to Evans near the halfway line who in turn passed to de Gea. Evans had no choice, he couldn’t pass safely to another United played where he was so he did what any sensible centre half would do. The howls of disapproval, most notably from the K Stand, were the angriest I’ve heard Old Trafford since the anti Moyes banner flew around Old Trafford last April. Some people thought that the crowd were having a go at Evans, but I think it was more a case of a pissed off crowd who had seen far too many moves evaporate this season in this manner. That there was no outfield player available to Evans to pass to is more a problem for his team mates as a collective, than it is any culpability for Evans after an attacking position moments earlier fell apart. Not for the first time this season, United fans chanted attack, attack, attack-attack-attack, however to my ears, this was shouted with a bit more vigour than usual.
Possibly the most terrifying image I’ve ever seen used to advertise a football match. Incidentally, Thriller by Michael Jackson is still available in all good record shops (while good record shops last)
No other club could attract the a full house at Southampton for such a insignificant end of season game. No other club could take the volume (in both senses) of support to the other end of the country, that United took today for such a meaningless game. United fans decided that no matter what, we were going to have an end of season party today. The noise from reds was, apart from a five minute lull/breather in the second half, relentless. The concourse at half time was like an experience in a time machine which took us back to the ’80’s. In that respect, it was a reminder of The Dell, the decrepit old shitheap that Southampton used to play in. A toilet that was too small and which had only one entry/exit caused a crush and could’ve caused a riot if it wasn’t for well ordered and self policing reds. Inside there, the air was thick with tobacco smoke and other exotic aroma emanating from extended hand rolled cigarettes. The United calypso started half way through the second half and lasted until the end of the game. Reds at the bottom of the stand were dancing a conga, with news seeping through that Liverpool were losing and City being two up, the atmosphere was relaxed. Our biggest fear of Liverpool winning the title was not to be realised.