So after disposing of Hull 4-0, Manchester United stand top of the Premiership as of late January. Plus ca change. Well actually, this may not be the normal order being restored, but more of a false dawn. Cracks are appearing in the edifice that Fergie has built and it would take a myopic fool to ignore the evidence. All the facts suggests that Man United are on the wane and the only way is down.
Is this the moment we have all been waiting for? Ferguson’s reign of pugilistic pestilence is beginning to unravel. After all we have been waiting for this epoch for many years now. Man United’s bubble is finally, after two decades of success, about to burst. The aura of invincibility has begun to show serious signs of stress. It could hardly be a more opportune moment to revel in the demise of the great leviathan of English club football. It has been a period of unparalleled dominance but one feels it is coming to an end, and coming soon.
Firstly, there are the financial shenanigans, which are plaguing even the biggest club in the world. The Glazers issuing of a £500 million bond looks like papering over some of the cracks but the debts are mounting despite increasing turnover. The major problem is the wage bil, which rose from £92m in 2007 to £123m in 2009, and there are fewer players on the roster so the actual increases are staggering in the harshest economic times. The air is thick with grumbling and dissension as fans express their disillusionment with the way the club is being run (into the ground?).
If the finances are in a mess then the playing side is not exactly rosy. Good players have left and not been adequately replaced. Between them, Ronaldo and Tevez contributed 87 goals in the previous two seasons, one can hardly imagine Valencia and Obertan replicating this and at the midpoint of current season they had amassed 5 goals. Berbatov is a classy forward but is becoming better known for his surliness than his silky skills.
But it’s not just the exits and entries that are causing concern in the corridors of Old Trafford, the squad is looking increasingly old and frangible. Giggs, Neville, Scholes are no spring chickens despite Giggs’ remarkable fitness there is only so much time left on those body clocks. Ferguson is struggling to replace them and more crucially there is no clear successor to Van Der Sar as neither Foster nor Kuszczak are budding Schmeichels.
There is depth to the squad but injuries to key players have undermined the quality – O’Shea, Ferdinand, Hargreaves (remember him) – have played fewer games than would be expected. There is an over-reliance on Rooney who is consistently brilliant as exemplified by his scoring all 4 against Hull. But he is not Atlas and cannot carry the rest of them on his admittedly broad shoulders. He looked exasperated during the Carling Cup semi final defeat at Eastlands and no wonder. Like England there will be a wailing and gnashing of teeth if he sustains any injury.
We have been here before and Ferguson, the master alchemist, usually pulls a string of rabbits out of his bobble hat. But the traditional January surge is not powering up and their sloppy Cup performances are maybe an indication that the good ship Fergie is listing. His recent admission that he is losing patience with some of his players is a rare and perhaps revealing insight into the travails at Old Trafford.
Showing posts with label Sir Alex Ferguson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sir Alex Ferguson. Show all posts
Monday, 25 January 2010
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Ferguson receives a Catalan Masterclass
As Andres Iniesta left the field in added time, the substitute who was about to replace him, was joyfully applauding as much as he was smiling. Like all of us, Pedro Rodriguez had been wowed by one of the best midfield performances of recent years. Alongside the equally impressive Xavi and the amazingly mature Busquets, Barcelona controlled the midfield with a deceptive ease that hid the superior technique, hard work and application of the players.
Before the match, much had been made of the gaps in Barca’s defensive unit and how the absence of first choice players Marquez, Daniel Alvez, and Abidal would give United room to exploit with their superior pace. On the night, apart from the opening ten minutes and a late flurry towards the end, Victor Valdes had very little to do. The back four had as comfortable an evening as they could have imagined, to the extent that Puyol and Toure were seen exchanging passes on the edge of the United penalty area in the first half, as if they were in a practice match.
The reason for their defensive comfort was that Barcelona pressed so effectively that United had to resort to either pumping long balls from the back which lacked both direction or angle or the midfield attempting to locate the ineffective Ronaldo and Rooney with hopeful “hail mary” passes. In contrast, Barcelona’s midfield trio kept possession by passing the ball accurately and crisply before waiting for the right moment to penetrate, as evidenced by Eto’s opening goal which was founded on Iniesta’s sharp change of pace and beautifully weighted pass.
Ferguson had no answer to the mastery Barcelona steadily built as they took control of the match and which they rarely looked like relinquishing at any time. It must be particularly galling for him to have to acknowledge the superiority of a 38 year-old manager in his first season. Guardiola was a teenager when Ferguson took over at Old Trafford and he has been a manager for some 35 years.
So much for Fergie’s experience and tactical nous, when he brought Tevez on as a second half substitute there was no change to the pattern of the game which had swung inexorably to Barcelona and his team appeared increasingly naïve compared to the sophistication of their opponents. The introduction of the talismanic Argentine might change the course of a game against the Wigans of this world but failed to ruffle the Catalans’ feathers. Tevez looked as nonplussed as his teammates within a few minutes of chasing around forlornly in search of the ball.
Lionel Messi, who was a constant threat with his clever movement and flawless control, rubbed salt into the open wounds with the free header midway through the second half, twisting in the air to artfully curl the ball beyond Van der Sar who could only watch as the ball sailed into the corner. Ferdinand was also a distant spectator.
When Paul Scholes committed one of his customary rash and spiteful challenges on 21 year-old Busquets we knew the game was up. All United had left was some futile, unpleasant aggression as Ronaldo’s simmering discontent with Puyol’s shackling ended up in a booking as did Vidic who finally got in touching distance of Messi and got some petty revenge.
To be fair to Ferguson and his players, they readily accepted that they had been out-thought, outfought and generally overwhelmed by the better side. Their expressions of grim resignation as they waited for the ceremonial crowning of the new European Champions, bore testimony to the undoubted superiority of Barcelona, the worthy victors.
Before the match, much had been made of the gaps in Barca’s defensive unit and how the absence of first choice players Marquez, Daniel Alvez, and Abidal would give United room to exploit with their superior pace. On the night, apart from the opening ten minutes and a late flurry towards the end, Victor Valdes had very little to do. The back four had as comfortable an evening as they could have imagined, to the extent that Puyol and Toure were seen exchanging passes on the edge of the United penalty area in the first half, as if they were in a practice match.
The reason for their defensive comfort was that Barcelona pressed so effectively that United had to resort to either pumping long balls from the back which lacked both direction or angle or the midfield attempting to locate the ineffective Ronaldo and Rooney with hopeful “hail mary” passes. In contrast, Barcelona’s midfield trio kept possession by passing the ball accurately and crisply before waiting for the right moment to penetrate, as evidenced by Eto’s opening goal which was founded on Iniesta’s sharp change of pace and beautifully weighted pass.
Ferguson had no answer to the mastery Barcelona steadily built as they took control of the match and which they rarely looked like relinquishing at any time. It must be particularly galling for him to have to acknowledge the superiority of a 38 year-old manager in his first season. Guardiola was a teenager when Ferguson took over at Old Trafford and he has been a manager for some 35 years.
So much for Fergie’s experience and tactical nous, when he brought Tevez on as a second half substitute there was no change to the pattern of the game which had swung inexorably to Barcelona and his team appeared increasingly naïve compared to the sophistication of their opponents. The introduction of the talismanic Argentine might change the course of a game against the Wigans of this world but failed to ruffle the Catalans’ feathers. Tevez looked as nonplussed as his teammates within a few minutes of chasing around forlornly in search of the ball.
Lionel Messi, who was a constant threat with his clever movement and flawless control, rubbed salt into the open wounds with the free header midway through the second half, twisting in the air to artfully curl the ball beyond Van der Sar who could only watch as the ball sailed into the corner. Ferdinand was also a distant spectator.
When Paul Scholes committed one of his customary rash and spiteful challenges on 21 year-old Busquets we knew the game was up. All United had left was some futile, unpleasant aggression as Ronaldo’s simmering discontent with Puyol’s shackling ended up in a booking as did Vidic who finally got in touching distance of Messi and got some petty revenge.
To be fair to Ferguson and his players, they readily accepted that they had been out-thought, outfought and generally overwhelmed by the better side. Their expressions of grim resignation as they waited for the ceremonial crowning of the new European Champions, bore testimony to the undoubted superiority of Barcelona, the worthy victors.
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Ferguson's flaws
In the aftermath of the Manchester United Everton FA Cup semi-final there was plenty of predictable bleating and moaning. This is Ferguson Land. Whenever anything goes slightly amiss it is always someone else’s fault. So the responsibility for the FA Cup semi-final defeat was laid fair and square on the pitch, which was neither fair nor square.
True enough the Wembley pitch was not up to scratch and was inferior to the majority of Premiership playing surfaces, The ball did not run true and also it cut up quickly with large divots of turf appearing, so it resembled a practice ground for a golf tournament within the first 10 minutes.
But both teams were similarly affected and it was Ferguson who selected the weakened United team who showed little inclination to chase the win in extra time. Furthermore, Berbatov’s lamentable penalty in the shoot-out was down to his own special brand of indifference, and not the scarred, as opposed to sacred, turf.
Many people claim Sir Alex is a master in psychological warfare and often beats his opponents in the mind games. His brilliant mental destruction of his rivals, the argument runs, leaves them powerless to survive in the match itself and they are beaten before kick-off.
This is utter nonsense, there is no subtlety to Ferguson’s rants and raves, he is more akin to a six year old sans toys than a genius of mind games. To be wound up by such blunt and unimaginative posturing does not bode well for anyone who is entering the school playground in the near future.
True enough the Wembley pitch was not up to scratch and was inferior to the majority of Premiership playing surfaces, The ball did not run true and also it cut up quickly with large divots of turf appearing, so it resembled a practice ground for a golf tournament within the first 10 minutes.
But both teams were similarly affected and it was Ferguson who selected the weakened United team who showed little inclination to chase the win in extra time. Furthermore, Berbatov’s lamentable penalty in the shoot-out was down to his own special brand of indifference, and not the scarred, as opposed to sacred, turf.
Many people claim Sir Alex is a master in psychological warfare and often beats his opponents in the mind games. His brilliant mental destruction of his rivals, the argument runs, leaves them powerless to survive in the match itself and they are beaten before kick-off.
This is utter nonsense, there is no subtlety to Ferguson’s rants and raves, he is more akin to a six year old sans toys than a genius of mind games. To be wound up by such blunt and unimaginative posturing does not bode well for anyone who is entering the school playground in the near future.
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