SINCE IT involves Manchester United, I will begin this post with one of Sir Alex Ferguson's famous phrases: “Football – bloody Hell”. I might, however, equally obviously have gone with the Jimmy Greaves classic: “It's a funny old game Saint”.
These thoughts were encouraged from watching the Amazon Prime broadcast of Tuesday night's Manchester United v Roma, Champions League game, from Old Trafford. I watched the game in part because, after watching the worst Celtic team this century implode against Falkirk and marvelling at an equally poor but perhaps improving Rangers team huff and puff through their campaign so far, it was only fair that I watch the equally criticised United team.
Followers of these haverings will need no further telling, in my view the current squads at Ibrox and Parkhead are over-loaded with players who are, to conjur-up a collective description: Not Old Firm Class. The same problem is bedevilling Man U. There were guys playing on Tuesday night who would never have got through the door at Carrington, or before that The Cliff, in the days when United wasn't a punch line in a stand-up comedian's act.
MacSporran Meander warning: [in a former life, working for the Paisley Daily Express I was, one Monday, reflecting on yet another poor display by the then St Mirren team, with Love Street Legend Jackie Copland. Those who saw Jackie play will recall, he did not take prisoners and he was equally forthright as we talked.This particular morning, the object of most of his ire had been the performance of Buddies front man Junior Mendes. What had particularly annoyed Jackie was, Junior kept showing for the ball – holding an arm in the air and saying: “here I am”, while right beside an opposition defender. As Jackie observed: “a guy doing that doesn't want the ball – if he really wanted the ball he'd be looking for open space.”]
For Junior Mendes – some 25 years ago – read Bryan Mbeumo for United on Tuesday. Perhaps the biggest difference was, St Mirren got Junior for nothing, after he was released by Chelsea, United paid £65 million for Mbeumo. Now Junior was certainly no Frank McGarvey, Gunni Torfasson or even his contemporary Buddies Basher Lavety and Mark Yardley. But he was perhaps closer to them than Mbeumo is to the guys he will be judged against: The Holy Trinity, Eric Cantona or Wayne Rooney – to name but a few.
OK – Mbeumo did manage to hit both posts with one shot on Tuesday night, but, generally he ran around like a headless chicken and if that's what £65 million buys you these days, Fitba truly has gone to the dogs.
But he wasn't the only disappointment on view, indeed, the only two members of that starting United team I would keep would be Bruno Fernandez and Harry Maguire. They at least look as if they know what being a regular cast member of the Theatre of Dreams Repertory Company really involves.
I have just spent some time having a go at United, however, to quote another of the game's clichés: “It's a results-driven business” and United did win. That said, how a Serie A team such as Roma could let a two-goal lead slip is another question.
United might have got lucky with the order to re-take that penalty, but, coming back from 0-2 down to win just might be the change of fortune the embattled Michael Carrick requires.
Another interesting wee snippet from the broadcast was the opinion of Alan Shearer, that maybe the fact United recovered from a poor start to finish in a Champions League qualifying position was an indication that The Premiership might not be the wonderful league he and its other cheer leaders had built it up to be.
We all know and have known for years, the SPFL is a pish league – performances such as that by United and Roma has me wondering, are the much-vaunted Premiership and Serie A that much better?
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