This Saturday we welcome Manchester United, just a wee club in the north west.
As much as we love to stand up, sit down or take our shoes,shirts and kegs off to show our love for the Toon. I’m sure many of us know what it is to have engaged in these acts in confirmation of the fact that we do indeed ‘hate Man U’.
Despite our ‘hate’ for the poor downtrodden strugglers who visit on Saturday, I would say even the most Manc hating Toon supporter retains an air of begrudging respect for their achievements. At least in comparison to a club like the Mackems, who would struggle to garner respect from any club for their three Wembley belly flops since Porterfield’s flukey dig in ’73.
Back to the matter in hand though…
Who the f*** are Man United anyway?
At the minute they are a joy to every other football supporter in England, this is truly something Geordies, Scousers, Brummies, Cockerneys and most Mancs can link hands and sing Kumbaya on. The poignancy of their demise being framed against the backdrop of Liverpool’s resurgence, a detail lost on no one.
Judging by what is happening at Anfield, I would say Moyes is just entering the real pressure zone, a pressure that will only increase in his fabled second season. That is if he hasn’t swapped places with Martinez by then? With Everton traditionally playing the role of Man U’s bitch this may not be such an outlandish prospect. If he is still sitting in Taggart’s throne though and not seriously challenging for the title, in a fashion comparable to Rogers? Then his excuses would ring truly hollow and his survival in the job would seem impossible.
We’ve heard a lot from Moyes himself, and other Manc protagonists, about the long term thinking of the appointment, and the need to build on the tradition laid down over the last 26 years. For a club such as Man United though, this allowance of even a temporal stagnation,could possibly be akin to a company like Blockbusters neglecting to develop their online streaming strategy. For anyone who has seen the South Park Episode: A Nightmare on Facetime, It is a comforting thought to have recast Moyes in the Randy Marsh role.
This is not to advocate a revolving managerial door policy at any club, but in the increasingly internationally driven football marketplace, thousands of kids the world over are becoming (and may continue to become) Liverpool supporters, this is a fact that can’t be lost on Globalists such as the Glazers.
Before a continued lacklustre in his second season forces their hand once and for all, I would suggest this modern, internationally leaning, business protocol of the game will reign at Man U, and they will hand Randy Marsh… Or should that be Groundskeeper Willy… his P45, and severance grease, before next season begins. It is difficult to imagine the alternative scenario of them spending Real Madrid money in backing him, in a display of gusto to present a united front against the Red Menace up the road. The risks of doing that, and Moyes continuing to fail, are even greater.
For those reasons alone I suggest this will likely be the one and only time he visits St James Park as Man United manager. Nevertheless, despite the doom and gloom surrounding Moyes and the club, I think it would be foolhardy of us to get too excitable about the prospects of doing the double.
We have caught them at a time where they are still clinging to the optimism that they will survive a trip to the Allianz Arena, and you could argue they’ll be keeping something in reserve for that game. However, we have also caught them off the back of two league wins, at a time where Mata is showing the first real signs of settling, and in Van Persie’s absence Rooney has convincingly grasped the reigns, in an attempt to salvage their season as best they can.
I don’t need to remind any of you of the form they find us in.
The phrase “people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” springs to mind, but of course seeing the bleating of the Mancs about their ‘crisis’ and that they aren’t so keen on their owners and manager, to a Toon supporter, is the equivalent of watching a rich man whinge about being skint. Actually it’s funnier and less annoying than that, but you can’t help but think that they don’t even know the half of it!
So who the F*** are Man United?
Well at the minute they’re a club in seventh, out of all competitions (practically), cloaked in the shadow of all their biggest rivals, facing a mass exodus, with a manager who has never won anything…
Just a Wee club in the North West.