Farewell Casemiro, adios amigo

You don't wear this shirt, you carry it. 

Eight words to sum up the departing Casemiro perfectly. There have been many players to ply their trade on the hallowed turf of Old Trafford, and plenty to make their mark on its history. But perhaps none in recent times more than the affable Brazilian.

Cult hero status assured

There are icons, there are legends, and there are cult heroes. The first two categories take care of themselves and the names roll off the tongue. From the days of Bobby Charlton, Denis Law and George Best, up through the eras to the silver-plated times of Cristiano Ronaldo, Wayne Rooney,  Nemanja Vidic, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs. 
The third category is a little harder to define - cult heroes don't always win Premier Leagues or Champions Leagues, or have statues built or stands named after them. They are the grafters, the charismatic mavericks, the men who represent us fans on the field with their love, dedication and commitment to their craft - and our club. 

The likes of Ji-Sung Park, Nani, Diego Forlan and John O'Shea all hold that status here. Yes, they did win titles too but were often overshadowed by their more illustrious and decorated team-mates. 

It has perhaps taken a while, but Casemiro will leave United as one of these cult heroes. 

It is easy to fall in love with a foreign export if you are someone like Ronaldo or Bruno Fernandes - you are the heartbeat, the string-pulling creator in chief, the flair player to get you off your seat. Exciting attacking fulcrums are what fans want - those players get all the glory and are often your match winners. 

But how often do defensive midfielders receive adulation to this extent - totemic titans Roy Keane and Bryan Robson aside, maybe? It is testament to Casemiro's impact, commitment and genuine affinity for United that he will leave the club almost universally adored. The feeling is very much mutual. 

"I will carry Manchester United with me throughout my entire life" - for a man from the Brazilian favelas who has been there and won it all at Real Madrid, that is quite the statement. It is enough to give this particular sentimental hack the hint of a tear in his eye. 

From outcast to indispensable

But yet it wasn't always this way. 

Casemiro was parachuted in to answer United's midfield SOS call after a 4-0 shellacking at Brentford - future Red Bryan Mbeumo and all - in 2022. He came as the supposed epitome of United's failing transfer strategy. A big name 'Galactico' the wrong side of 30 on massive wages into an alien, madcap, 100mph environment.  Another commercial pound grab by the board, another prima donna. 

But Casemiro has shown throughout his four years in Manchester he is up for the fight. He has recovered from setbacks - and slander - that would make lesser players melt. 
Jamie Carragher branded him a 'plodding steady Eddie' and to 'leave the football before the football leaves you'. He was dropped for the 2024 FA Cup final and was once hooked in lieu of Toby Collyer with United two down to Liverpool. Even in that sorry second season, he sacrificed himself, and selection for the cup final, by selflessly filling in as a makeshift centre-back in the midst of an injury crisis. 

That all seems a long time ago now. True, United's two lowest ever Premier League placings have come with Casemiro in midfield, but it is no co-incidence we have also finished third twice since he's been here. Erik ten Hag's 'cement between the stones' may not have delivered the major titles we all have craved but his Man of the Match showing, and goal to boot, in the EFL Cup final at Wembley certainly helped scratch that six-year itch.
ten Hag's basketball mantra of 'you attack, we attack' often left him marooned in midfield against three - sometimes four opponents - and then Ruben Amorim's ill-fitting tactical blueprint which left everyone, even the players, scratching their heads in bafflement.

The time is right, I'm moving on..

And so we have come to the end of the (United) road for this quiet, undemonstrative family man. Someone who does not speak much, but - when he does - everyone listens. 

It is the right decision to let him go. He is 34 years old, has completed 90 minutes only 14 times this season and qualification for the Champions League will bring about a 25% increase in player salaries. United were never going to countenance an ageing and rotational squad player on 350k a week. It is simply too expensive, too much of a risk with the constant shadow of PSR in the rearview mirror. 

But it is this very fact that has made his stock rise further. Despite announcing his departure in January, Casemiro's Reds career would have the most impressive of epitaphs. It would have been very easy for him to forgo a future he will not be part of by downing tools and, basically, not giving two hoots whether we made the Champions League or not. 

Not for this introverted leader and his resurgence deep in the heart of United's engine room. A best ever goalscoring season with nine, all of them headers, often in tandem with the omnipotent Bruno, spearheaded United's charge under soon-to-be-permament manager Michael Carrick. 

He has done his damndest to ensure the Reds will once more sit at Europe's top table, even with the shifting sands of time counting down to his Old Trafford epoch. And that's all credit to him. 

Casemiro had a knack for key goals. His 94th-minute equalier at Chelsea in that debut season. The Cup final winner and decisive header away to Forest in the FA Cup fifth-rounder the following year. The pivotal role in that astonishing climb-off-the-canvas comeback against Lyon. But his legacy is these last few months, driving United on to the land of milk and honey even when he knew he won't be here next season. He has given every last bit of energy and effort, every last drop of sweat and blood, to get this club back to where it should be. And for that I will always be grateful. 

Adios amigo, it has been a pleasure. Duh duh duh duh, Casemiro, Duh duh duh duh... 

The PGMOL are corrupt and poisonous weasels (ANGRY RANT!)

I have had enough of this corrupt, rancid organisation at the top of the game in England. It's time to unite and get rid of the PGMOL for bringing our game, our beautiful game, into disrepute.

I am done with these putrid, lying, corrupt, poisonous, parasitic weasels who all paid for and pre-planned this months ago. It is now abundantly clear: the PGMOL, the FA and the Premier League do not want little old Manchester United anywhere near the Champions League. It might be for money, to appease fans, or because it's not what they sat down and agreed months ago, or because we had the nerve to question them. But whatever the reason, they are going to keep f*****g us over until we finish sixth. Then they will all get together and w**k each other off. 

They may as well come out and tell the world as it's very very obvious it's what they're foaming at the mouth for. 

I don't want to keep talking about referees but we can't just stay silent, we have to topple this dictatorship and start anew. We have to take action and unite to end this criminality. 

They are shitting themselves at the thought of us playing in it next year so have been told to make up any old bollocks to get what they're presumably very well rewarded for. No other team gets treated like this - it is disgusting, it is an absolute disgrace, a bloody disgrace and needs to be called out. All fans of football should join together to banish these w*****s from the game. Get in a new pool of referees from abroad without bias, without collusion and who actually know their arses from their elbows.

You only have to look at the state of things in our last two games. We had the non-award of a blatant penalty on Amad at Bournemouth  (voted 5-0 in favour of a correct decision as well btw) - which led directly to the Cherries first equaliser. A decision every other team in the Premier League would get in their favour. But it's Man Utd and they have a different set of laws to screw us over. It's been common knowledge for years. 

Then came two red cards I have never seen any other player get sent off for - Harry Maguire for a supposed DOGSO when there was no contact and Lisandro Martinez for jumping for a header. To add insult to injury, Magure has been given an extra game ban for something no one heard him say whilst precious Pep's little pet Rodri called the referee a cheat and nothing was done. 

They waited as long as possible to ban Maguire to make sure we go into a massive match underprepared and in limbo. Exactly as arranged, exactly as they wanted. 

Only those clubs who say and do everything the PGMOL want are allowed into the upper echelons of the game at home and in Europe. 

United are set to appeal the latter, and it's worth a try, but you just know it will be upheld because all the cutesy, pally little PGMOL minions can't possibly accept their buddy pals are ever wrong. Yet DCL can smash Martinez around the face and get away with it. 
They will probably slap an extra game on for having the audacity to challenge them. 

Do nothing to give these p****s the satisfaction they get from making our lives a misery. No media, no referee handshakes, no mementoes, no 'Respect' campaign. Ban them from Old Trafford and threaten legal action, even to withdraw from the league if this carries on, Fuck the Premier League, fuck the FA, fuck the PGMOL fuck all of them. I never want you anywhere near our club again. All corrupt, all pre-planned, all fixed, all bollocks. Howard Webb, get to f**k. 

Make no mistake, United weren't good enough against Leeds. I don't think anyone can deny that. But the fact of the matter is, we had yet another major game-changing decision go against us. If that's what's classed as violent conduct now, football is finished. Completely finished. 

I'm sick of 115 being able to say and do whatever they want without punishment. I'm sick of Liverpool existing, I'm sick of all the backhanders, all the mates rates, the rules changing every week to suit their agendas. I'm sick of the protection of their own, of clubs not being able to call them out for fear of the poor little mites being upset by the hurty words. I'm sick of their cosy little favourites getting everything they want. I'm sick of the lack of accountability. I'm sick of them blaming everyone else for their incompetence. I'm sick of how untouchable and arrogant these p***s are.  I'm sick of 'Tayls' and 'Kavs' and 'Ols' and 'Suts'. I genuinely believe all these PGMOL officials were secretly hired by Manchester City to bring down United. I'm sick of our players getting singled out, victimised and made an example of in the name of greed, money and match fixing. 

What minute has it been planned for that poisonous weasel Michael Oliver to send off Casemiro on Saturday? You can bet he's foaming at the mouth to get his slimy mitts on a few brown envelopes from his paymasters in the Middle East.

At Bournemouth it was Stuart Attwell, against Leeds it was Paul Tierney. It'll be that Oliver this week and some other fraud next time. 

What better way to stuff this corruption down their throats than by rising above it and proving the old adage is as true as ever - cheats never prosper. 

Fernandes hit by injury at worst possible time

The question: "Where would United be without Bruno Fernandes" is one we've asked ourselves hypothetically for years now.
Such is the indestructible immortality of United's omnipresent captain, it is one we thought we'd never need to actually consider.

Man Utd captain Bruno Fernandes

But we will very soon find out the answer and I suspect it won't be nice. Strap yourselves in, folks. One of the most durable players in football has finally broken. 

There were plenty of positives to take from the trip to Villa Park, despite the result. United played well for long periods but went down 2-1. But the result wasn't even the worst part of the day. Fernandes pulled up with a hamstring injury shortly before half-time. He didn't re-emerge for the second half and, although we battled gamely without him, it was clear the injury was serious. It had to be for him to come off. This is a guy who played on one leg in an FA Cup final for the cause and has played through the pain barrier on more than one occasion. He has a high pain threshold and is never substituted. 

United depleted and squad looks thin

The timing could not be worse. Fernandes famously never gets injured then, just as Amad Diallo and Bryan Mbeumo leave for AFCON, he pulls his hammy. To add insult to injury, the man who would've replaced him in midfield, Kobbie Mainoo, is also sidelined. It is rotten luck and someone somewhere has a very warped sense of humour. Merry bloody Christmas. Added to defensive injuries in Mathijs de Ligt and Harry Maguire, United have eight senior first team players unavailable. 

Of course, injuries are part of the game but all of ours have been to our most important players all at the same time at the most crucial part of the campaign. 

We've had barely any injuries all season and then our most important player is struck down just when we needed him most. What are the chances... you couldn't write it could you? 

Whilst the true extent of his injury is still unknown, a soft muscle injury is a month out at the very least. A Grade One tear is a few days to a few weeks, a Grade Two is up to a month and a Grade Three, a severe tear could see him face up to four months on the sidelines. It is a Nightmare before Christmas for United and Ruben Amorim. 

United are traditionally reluctant buyers in January but may have no choice to bulk up a depleted squad beset by injuries. Antoine Semenyo is sought after but the real problems are in midfield. Elliot Anderson and Adam Wharton are high on the wishlist but both players scream of summer signings. 

Ever-present Fernandes finally broken 

Fernandes absence from the side is so rare the stats look like something out of a simulation. 

He has missed only three games through non-suspension reasons since signing for United six years ago in January. One was against Spurs in March 2022 (3-2 win, CR hat-trick) and the other two coming at the tail end of 2023-24 when he was managing a knee injury in the run up to the FA Cup final. Those pair of matches ended in 1-0 and 4-0 losses to Arsenal and Palace, respectively. 

Those two latter losses show just how vital United's string-puller in chief is. Even if his Hollywood passing and occasionally volatile outbursts can frustrate, his ability and influence on this side cannot be questioned. He is our talisman, the one truly world class player in this team and our main creative force. Even in a deeper midfield role alongside Casemiro this season, he has five goals and seven assists. For a squad still excelling in the art of consistent inconsistency, Fernandes metronomic effervescence has been a familiar calming presence and one we've taken for granted. He is the one player we have who would get in any other Premier League club's XI. 

In 292 games with Fernandes starting, our win rate is 51.7%. That drops to 45.2% without him. In the Premier League, it's 208 games with him (48.6%) but 29.4% without him. 

What do United do now in the skipper's absence?

Amad & Fernandes

There are two main problems: First, how on earth do you replace him? Second... how long will he be out for? 

United have been playing one game a week but, after the Newcastle game, have four games in a fortnight culminating in the FA Cup third rounder with Brighton. Traditional big hitters Arsenal and Manchester City loom large on the horizon after that. By then, you'd hope Fernandes will be back but you cannot rush hamstring injuries, no matter how physically and mentally tough you are. 

United don't have a ready-made replacement or another attacking option at no.8. Mainoo is the closest we have to Fernandes quality and profile, but his own injury means his wait for a first league start of the season will go on. Even when he returns, there is nothing to suggest he will become an automatic starter in Fernandes absence - Mainoo has his own problems and has fallen down the pecking order under Amorim. United could turn to another out of favour player, Joshua Zirkzee, to come in to the side as one of the no.10s with Mason Mount dropping alongside Casemiro in the Fernandes role. That would allow us to have two strikers on the pitch but keep our shape and system the same in the 3-4-2-1, or alternatively an extra man in midfield in a rejigged 4-3-3. 

Jack Fletcher, teenage son of United player-turned-coach Darren, became Academy graduate number 255 when he replaced Benjamin Sesko in the 73rd minute. He looked neat and tidy and put himself about in an eye-catching cameo, but it's asking a lot of an 18-year-old rookie to slot into the high intensity cauldron of the Premier League and expect him to adequately replace Fernandes. 

Amorim raised eyebrows when Lisandro Martinez came on in midfield at half time at Villa Park but he was excellent and looked like he'd played there all his life. Licha has the skillset to fulfill a central midfield role having done so for Ajax and Argentina in the past and looks a genuine option. Amorim has said he would only consider it in an emergency but we are surely at that point now? One thing's for sure... we cannot continue to persist with Manuel Ugarte who is starting to look like one of the worst signings in United history. 

We're down to the bare bones at a time when the frantic festive fixtures stretch squads to the limit. 

RIP Old Trafford: you will never be forgotten

Old Trafford, home of United since 1910

There are certain childhood memories you would rather erase and some that stay with you forever.
They say you never forget your first time and, for this humble hack, the day I first laid eyes on her will be etched on my conscience until the day I die.

The day I first fell in love

Clinging to my late uncle's hand as I climbed the steps - which as a six year old seemed to go on forever - I will never forget the sight that greeted me. There, yawning out before me like the Grand Canyon, sat rows upon rows of red seats leading down to the edge of the pristine carpet and the sporting world's most iconic patch of turf. On that very patch of grass were the eleven men I would follow through thick and thin over the next 27 years. It was a cathedral of football fit for greatness. Even to my innocent, six-year-old eyes, you could smell the history and tradition. Honour and glory at every turn. And so, a lifelong love affair began. 

This was Old Trafford. It was a place I would return to a few times a season over the next quarter of a century. The iconic, historic home of Manchester United. Our Manchester United. A place where dreams come true, legends are made, sporting heroes immortalised. A place for us mere mortals to escape surrounded by people with a common cause: to roar on the Reds at a place we called home. For Old Trafford is more than just the bricks-and-mortar dwelling of a football club. It is synonymous with the famous name of our once great club - from the bombs of World War II, to the tragedy of Munich and the triumphs and tribulations of magisterial managers Sirs Matt and Alex. 

Old Trafford 1910 - 2031 (approx)

A place known throughout the world for dramatic, logic-defying last gaps acts of derring do by a collection of some of the greatest exponents of their craft the game has ever seen. 

But now, Old Trafford's epitaph is written. For me and millions of other who have made the pilgrimage to follow our beloved team at our great theatre, it is indeed a sad day. 114 years of history gone in the blink of an eye . It was truly one of those moments where everyone remembers where they were when the news came through. 7/7, 9/11 and the day the Queen died (for the record, I was in a Wetherspoon's in Belfast). Add to that now the 11th March 2025: the day the sands of time ran out for one of the English game's grandest stages. 

There is no doubt the stadium I first set eyes upon all those years ago is no longer fit for purpose. It was once the envy of the world, but now it is an ageing relic pickled in aspic. A leaking roof, the crumbling concrete, the cramped turnstiles and uncomfortable seats. Old Trafford has fallen into disrepair, left to rot as the Glazers have counted their millions in absentia across the pond. 

Yet, strangely, its shortcomings are why we all love it so much. It may have become a bit of dump, but it was our dump. A dump that meant so much to so many, me included. It's precisely because it was falling apart that made it unique. Nowhere else do you feel that sense of history and prestige. The statues, the homage to Munich, the stadium homing into view as you walk up Sir Matt Busby Way. 

Soon, though, it will be no more: consigned to the annals of history as United set up shop on the same site but with a new 100k-seater stadium, as per BBC Sport. Probably called the Great INEOS Soccer Stage or some other horrible moniker. I hope I'm wrong but it's going to be soulless and the average man of the street simply will not be able to afford a ticket. It feels like the very essence of Manchester United is slowly being stripped away, brick by brick.

A lifetime of memories 

The proposed interior of United's new ground 

I understand nothing lasts forever and the ground was out-dated and in need of either re-development or rebuilding. The cost of the former was probably too great and so INEOS and Sir Jim Ratcliffe opted for the latter. To move on, you have to let go of the past. Everton will soon get a new stadium, Tottenham's White Hart Lance was bulldozed and their new abode built on it. Anfield has been renovated - Old Trafford was existing in a time warp. They wanted a stadium befitting for a club of United's stature, something the north doesn't have, and this is the result. 

I will never forget the memories of our famous old stadium. From that very first game back in 1997 to Amad's winner almost exactly a year ago, it has been a huge part of my life. It is time to leave our home behind and, in truth, it's probably for the best, but it is a wrench letting go of something you hold so dear. It's a time for new history to be made, to move forward into a new era with a ground which will be the envy of the world once again. 

The longer lasting questions (what's the timeframe, who will pay for the ground, what will happen to the Munich clock, tunnel and the statues and where we will play in the meantime) can wait for another day. For now, whilst looking forward is always exciting, there is a sense of loss, of sadness, of the end of something. Part of my life has been taken away. 

Farewell Old Trafford and thanks for the memories. We will miss you and love you forever. 

Manchester United: For the eternal love, not the glory

As Jean-Philippe Mateta turned our Sunday afternoon sour en route to another defeat, one word came to the fore: dedication. 

United vs Crystal Palace 

There wasn't much difference between the sides but Mateta's brace, in stark contrast to the struggles of our own soporific strikeforce, provided visiting Palace with the most precious currency of all. 

Watching from high up in the Stretford End, that feeling of resentment, of anger, the feeling that I don't want to do this any more, didn't last long. That feeling that you can't wait until the next time - despite the lows, and the lets downs, soon takes over. You do it because you can't let go. Just like in any other relationship, you're too emotionally invested. 

It got me thinking: everyone here has their own story to tell. A tale of how they came to be here, not just at this moment, but in life. Choosing to support this club. Each one of these 70,000+ people, every single one from a different walk of life, here for the same reason: united (pun intended) for a common cause. 

It matters too much to just throw it all aside. Right now, I'm disappointed, even apathetic, but in a few days, I will love this team again. I will be back in my jersey on Friday, willing the team on (this time from home) as we bid to make the FA Cup fifth round. United were my first love, and I will not stop. 

In the week United commemorate the 67th anniversary of the Munich disaster, there is a light that never goes out. United rose again after losing an entire team - set against that context, our current issues suddenly don't seem all that important. Manchester United will, like we did under Sir Matt Busby and Jimmy Murphy, come again. Where and when, we don't know, but we will be there. Better days are just around the corner. 

It may sometimes feel like it's not worth it, but in a few days you reset and go again. Your support is everlasting, undying, unrelenting. Through thick and thin - indeed, it's at times like this the club needs us, more than ever. It's easy to support when times are good. It's when times are bad your loyalty and love for your club is tested. 

That feeling that we are all so used to now - one of crushing disappointment - is expected at every turn, but is never any easier to take when the inevitable happens. As a wise man once said, it's the hope that kills you. 

I travelled over 300 miles to be at Old Trafford yesterday. The lad I went to the game with had to be up at 4am on Monday for his flight back to Ireland. There were no doubt countless others with similar tales of dedication. 
It makes you wonder if all this hurts the players as much as it does us. For them, it is just a job. A way of earning an (extremely lucrative) living. They still get their pay cheque at the end of the week. 

For us, it is our lives. It is not just an emotional investment. It is a financial one. We take time out of our cherished weekends - leaving our families and friends behind - to watch this club play. Hours of our lives given up to watch Manchester United: for some, it is almost a full time commitment in all four corners of the globe. I have heard of occasions where dedication for the club has cost marriages. 

As the eponymous James sung in his hit ' Sit Down', if I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with being poor. First released in 1989, it feels even more appropriate today. 

Where do the PGMOL find these donkeys?! (RANT)

Whilst his team mates floundered, one Arsenal player stood tall above the rest. A tall, imposing figure, he did everything he could to drag his side over the line as the FA Cup tie went down to the wire.

That man was Andrew Madley. Yet another referee employed by the PGMOL to screw us over, to ensure his paymasters in the corridors of power at the FA got what they wanted. Another pawn in this match fixing ring engulfing English football. I hope he enjoying sucking off Arteta afterwards. Where do they keep finding these donkeys? That was the worst refereeing performance I can remember, and that's saying something seeing as we get robbed and cheated by these t**ts every week. 

Michael Oliver at Anfield last week, this idiot against Arsenal, some other donkey next time. It gives me no pleasure to sit here and let rip about these officials, but when they are so inept, so catastrophically bad at their one fucking job, where else is there to turn? I don't want to keep whinging about these refs, it makes me look bitter and like I'm looking for sympathy, but if they weren't so crap I wouldn't have to. 

Bring back this man

It's time to change the narrative, overhaul the state of the officials in this country and get some fucking standards back. Best league in the world but the worst referees. No accountability for the same incompetence week after week. Refereeing must be the only career you can consistently be this shit at, and not lose your job. 

I thought Oliver's disasterclass at Liverpool last week was bad, and it was, but Madley was, quite simply, an absolute disgrace. A disgrace. I've never seen that given as a penalty before, nor probably ever will again. What even was that? 

Mr Madley couldn't give it quickly enough and was on the scene of Dalot's second yellow quicker than Prince Andrew at a teenage girl's house party. I'm surprised he didn't make up a law that ensured we lost the penalty shootout, so desperate was he to get Manchester United out of the FA Cup. I thought he might step up to take a penalty for them. 

He must have had a miserable childhood. I never want to see  him in charge of a United game again, just like that twat Oliver, Craig Pawson or Jarred Gillet who robbed us at Chelsea last season. David Coote has gone, now for the rest of these p***s. These wasters with an agenda to appease fans and the authorities who want to see Manchester United suffer and fail. Get in the bin and never ref us again. Thanks for nothing. Are they corrupt, or just incompetent? I'll let you decide that. Yet he'll be out there again next weekend screwing someone else over. Turns out Michael Oliver isn't the worst referee in the country. Not only was the draw fixed to give us the toughest tie possible, but we conveniently get a joke of a referee as well...

We can have little complaints over Dalot's second booking. Plenty of Madley's decisions are under the microscope but that was one he actually got right. But Mr Madley created that situation - he set himself up for a scenario where every tackle was given as a foul. He made a rod for his own back. Dalot didn't even get a warning: Madley was basically foaming at the mouth with glee at a chance to send one of our players off. He'd been itching to do so all game and you can bet he loved every minute of it. He must be fuming at his side's profligacy and Altay Bayindir's brilliance, he must be devastated he'll never see that brown envelope his bosses had waiting for him at ivory towers. Cry me a river. 
(NB: Having watched the Dalot incident again, you can see he never actually touches him - never a red card!) 

Bruno Fernandes was hacked down on the edge of the box and nothing was given. His boot literally came off but the referee had no intention of giving a free-kick. Lisandro Martinez won the ball, Ugarte made a brilliant tackle and I've no idea what law Madley invented to book Harry Maguire. Yet Arsenal were allowed to get away with every little push, nudge, tugback or challenge. Just his master, Pep's b**ch on the touchline, has these jokers wrapped around his little finger. Corrupt, cheating, match fixing w****r. 

I have had enough of these referees, these corrupt, ruinous, power hungry minions intent on making some of the biggest clashes in the game all about them. Just when you think you've had a bad one, up pops another to ruin your weekend. They are all two cheeks of the same arse. None of them are fit to referee. How many more times do we have to put up with this? Brighton, Villa, Spurs, Liverpool twice and now Arsenal. HOW MANY MORE!! It is every week now and I am tired of it. I am tired of our boys having to contend with this agenda every time we go out there. I am losing faith in football, falling out of love with the game and it's all because of days like this where an official makes it so upsetting. Thank goodness that penalty didn't knock us out or I would have a restraining order by now...

Considering how most people feel United had preferential treatment from refs during the days of Sir Alex, it says a lot when rival fans are saying we've been shafted. But the performance of the man in the middle somehow united the world of football in our favour. That takes some doing. 

Amad ending to a mundane derby

As soon as moonlighting left-back Matheus Nunes aimlessly connected with the twinkling toes of Amad Diallo, the 196th Manchester derby flipped on its head.

United should have had a penalty earlier in the tie when Ruben Dias sent Rasmus Hojlund sprawling to the turf, so this time justice was done. Even Anthony Taylor could not find a reason to overturn the award of a spot-kick this time around. 

Up stepped United captain Bruno Fernandes to stroke past Ederson and bring United level - deservedly so. It was the 88th minute and the Reds were good value for their point. Even against this pale imitation of a Manchester City side past the peak of their considerable powers, a draw at the Etihad should not be sniffed at. 

Last May's FA Cup final win over the champions will never be forgotten, and nor should it. But considering where we are at this point in time, with our recent record at the Etihad and everything that's happened since that day, our 81st triumph over our nearest and dearest will live long in the memory. 

The Diallo derby

Yet there was more to come. Lisandro Martinez - as good here as he was poor against Nottingham Forest - looked up and clipped the ball into the path of our jet-heeled Ivorian. Amad still had a lot to do, sandwiched as he was between the advancing keeper and two City players on the goal-line. Yet that did not matter for this generational talent, a man criminally ignored by the now departed Erik ten Hag. 

Amad glided beyond Ruben Dias and Josko Gvardiol, leaving them for dead to clip the ball over Ederson and roll into the net from the tightest of angles. How City failed to clear their lines with four players in close proximity I will never know but, as Clive Tyldesley once said: "With the greatest respect, who cares" 

Yet again, Amad was the instigator of Manchester United's latest act of derring do. Twice now in 2024 he has struck last gasp, ice-cold winners against our two most hated rivals. Whatever else this lad goes on to achieve, he has already done enough to go down in the annals as a folk hero at Old Trafford. Our biggest task now might be keeping hold of him. To think Omari Forson was chosen ahead of him. Marcus Rashford's time at United may be nearing its end, but - in Amad - United have a player to run with the baton - a 22-year-old Ivorian in the form of his life with his stock soaring through the ceiling. 

As he once again shot United to their rip roaring zenith, this was the undoubted nadir of Pep Guardiola's season. Surely even his entire managerial career. Watching his City side stumble and then fall down the cliff face into oblivion has been as baffling as it is enjoyable. 

Ailing City out of time and steam 

It says a lot that, even at 1-0 down with five minutes to go, I never feared for United. City's opener, a deflected mishit which fell kindly to Gvardiol, was fortuitous. A Phil Foden shot aside, they barely created anything. This a team which, much like United used to do, have had opponents beaten before a ball is even kicked. But here, City melted away like an ice cream in the desert and United needed no invitation to feast on their banquet of ineptitude. 

Now this finest of footballing sides look cowed, vulnerable, terrified of their own shadow and a fading collection of ageing and battle-weary superstars on their last legs. Guardiola's runaway, all-conquering juggernaut has officially run out of steam. The express train has hit the buffers. Everything has a 'best before' date. This is not simply down to the absence of the metronomic and irreplaceable Rodri. This is a side with tired minds and battered bodies that has been allowed to grow old together in Guardiola's relentless pursuit of perfection. The threat of unprecedented sanctions in the wake of their 115 charges hangs heavy over the Etihad and the nucleus of their side are all the wrong side of 30. 

With one win in eleven games (eight of those are losses), this is worse than even the depths of our post-Ferguson days. It is not simply a blip, more a fully blown crisis. Any other manager would have been sacked by now. Not only that, but Guardiola looks lost and a man at odds himself in a position he's never been in before. 

Ruthless Ruben takes tough stance 

For Ruben Amorim, United's dapper Portuguese gaffer, this was a superb early feather in his Old Trafford cap. In only the seventh game of his fledgling United tenure, he has gone where his predecessor did not. ten Hag's record away to City, Liverpool, Chelsea and Arsenal - indeed, even the likes of Villa, Newcastle and West Ham - was just one of the many reasons why he had to be moved on. Amorim has prevailed in his first crack at one of the big boys on his derby debut. He has beaten Guardiola twice in the space of a month. This time with a United team still finding our feet and restoring our confidence in these tentative early days of transition. For this manager and his side to go to the Etihad and win whilst still learning on the job is extraordinary. 

He did so without Marcus Rashford and Alejandro Garnacho (article as per Sky Sports). Two of United's leading lights, two of this side's big names and two lads for whom omission from this game would have been unthinkable. Their absence sent out a clear message: no one is too big to be cast adrift. Finally it seems we have a manager not afraid to get tough and make difficult decisions if needed. No one can criticism him for it either. We won. It worked. No one is safe under Amorim and that's exactly how it should be. 

In a parallel universe, Amorim could have been heading for the opposite dugout as Guardiola's successor in the summer, but United's decision to bring him in looks to have paid dividends. It's still early days, there's a long way to go and we've seen this film before, but the green shoots of recovery are beginning to sprout through the surface. 

Ch-ch-ch-changes 

This was a statement win of the highest order. United were far from perfect but we are improving. Much better both with the ball and without it. Braver, stronger, more organised. Patterns of play developing, a style forming. Results might have been up and down but at least now we can see a clear way of playing. 

Harry Maguire was simply colossal in the middle of the back three, forcing Erling Haaland to the fringes. Mathijs de Ligt had his best game in the Red of United and Martinez was superb. In midfield, Manuel Ugarte shone like a diamond in a galaxy of stars. In the exalted company of Ilkay Gundogan and Bernardo Silva, Ugarte was the best player in the middle of the park. Hojlund got no service but linked play superbly and teed up Fernandes for the one on one he should have buried. Kobbie Mainoo was good off the bench and Noussair Mazraoui once again a shining light at right wing-back. 

When Fernandes equalised, I knew we could win it. Back in the old days, even as recently as last season, if City did not batter their opposition, they saw games out. A shirt pull here, a tactical foul there, or summon their 60m reserve striker from the bench. But even this United side - a side that has endured our worst ever start to a Premier League season - had City rattled at the gentlest probing.

How often can you say you've gone to the Etihad and had as much of the ball as City? Not only that, but even had better chances than a Guardiola side? Amad was unlucky with a header, forcing a good save from Ederson. Fernandes should have scored having been put through by Hojlund and Mainoo fired wide. 

What now for Amorim's United?

This brilliant win at the Etihad - even against a City team in this shape -  cannot be merely a flash in the pan. We have to build on this now. United travel to a strange and unpredictable Spurs team in the cup on Thursday, then welcome high-flying Bournemouth to Old Trafford in the last game before Christmas. Too often, wins like this have come to nothing so we've got to kick on. Prior to the City game, we had our lowest ever points tally at this stage of a season in the Premier League era. But, for all our travails, we head into the penultimate weekend of the year only five points behind them. 

UTR!! 

FA Community Shield: From de Ligt to despair at Wembley - but plenty of positives

As we walked down Wembley Way, there was that feeling in the North West London air. The feeling every football fan gets at this time of year. The belief, the hope and the expectation only the start of a new football season can bring. Of course, it could pop like a balloon, but it’s always fun while it lasts, right?

Whatever’s gone before becomes irrelevant as we look ahead to the next ten months - ten months in which our lives will once again be shaped by a group of strangers kicking a bag of leather around the length and breadth of this fair isle. Yet year after year, for the love of our club, we put ourselves through it.

With the buzz of a United matchday in full swing, came the dopamine hit: United’s summer spending was not done yet. As we finished our pints in Wembley’s United fanzone, there it was in black and white: United had agreed a deal to sign not one, but two, Bayern Munich players. Mathijs de Ligt and Noussair Mazraoui were on their way to swell United’s defensive ranks, for a combined fee of £60m as per BBC Sport. Could the day get any better?
This may have ‘only’ been the Community Shield, and a far cry from May’s FA Cup final epic, but the mood was still one of high tension: as a United fan, you always want to get one over on those bluenoses from over the road, no matter the scene or setting.

Yet despite Bernardo Silva’s late equaliser when so close to victory, even when Jonny Evans skied the 15^th penalty of the shootout into the wide blue yonder, there was optimism. There was a positive feeling. United had played well and did more than enough to win. We may have lost on penalties but there are far more positives than there are negatives. So what now?

 The narrative suggests the Community Shield has little bearing on the season itself. Often, the opposite is true. Only once in the last 13 years has the winner gone on to become Premier League champions. The last three Shield losers have gone on to win the league that season. United again proved we can go toe-to-toe with Pep Guardiola’s City slickers on the big stage and run them close.

For the first time in a long while, United head into a new campaign on an upward trajectory. The winds of change are certainly swirling around Old Trafford. We’ve four new additions and a new look coaching staff spearheaded by a manager with the ink barely dry on his new contract. With de Ligt and Mazraoui set to be included in Friday’s matchday squad, the future is bright for 2024-25. As we sang loud and proud on Saturday, we're on the march with ten Hag's Army. 

Manchester United began this campaign as the last one had ended ten weeks ago - with a derby day dust up against that mob in blue from across the city. At the national stadium, with silverware on the line and the world watching. The cast list may have been quite different with both sides missing several of their star turns, but the two combatants remained the same.
Had the hamstrung Rasmus Hojlund been on the end of those two gilt-edged chances Marcus Rashford saw, and then squandered, the outcome would have been different. Quite what club legend and newly appointed assistant manager Ruud van Nistelrooy made of the man in his old number, we’ll never know. Van Nistelrooy’s compatriot and the newest addition to our striking ranks, Joshua Zirkzee, remained an unused sub at Wembley. His time surely cannot be far away.

Yet there was so much to admire from United’s Wembley showing. Casemiro looked back to his best and more the totemic figure of his debut season. Evans, his spot-kick aberration aside, was excellent. Bruno Fernandes came into the match with no pre-season or minutes under his belt but looked like he’d never been away. Alejandro Garnacho got himself another Wembley goal. We defended stoutly, moved the ball quickly and slickly and outplayed City, particularly in the second half. If we carry this into the season proper, starting with Fulham on Friday night, we won’t go far wrong.

Manchester United FA Cup winners 2024

Manchester United certainly took the scenic route to a 13th FA Cup victory, delivered in improbable and unlikely fashion at Wembley on Saturday.
In one of those deliciously unexpected twists top level sport so often delivers, United and their erudite manager Erik ten Hag produced an all-time performance for the ages to defy the odds and cause one of the biggest shocks in the history of this iconic competition.

It was United's finest hour under the Dutchman and perhaps our best since the retirement of Sir Alex Ferguson - watching from the posh seats up in the Gods at the national stadium. It was a performance of spirit, grit, hunger, desire, resilience, discipline and work rate. Indeed, at times United even went toe to toe with, and dominated, their more illustrious cross-town rivals. Qualities conspicuous in absentia this season and a performance which begs the question: where has this United been for the last ten months? 

Out of the wreckage, from the very nadir of United's worst ever Premier League era-season, came the undoubted zenith. 

I saw a team out there with every player singing from the same hymn sheet, all battling and fighting for each other, not just showing ability but the desire and attitude to win every tackle, header and second ball. This was a team giving everything, fighting and scrapping as if their lives depended on it, for their manager, fans and club.

City's all-conquering juggernaut - this imperious, pre-eminent and magnificent trophy winning machine - found themselves in the rare position of chasing shadows.

Their uncharacteristic carelessness was epitomised in United's 30th-minute opener. Diogo Dalot's long ball forward should have been dealt with by Joskvo Gvardiol. Instead, the Croatian left-back headed the ball back to his onrushing keeper Stefan Ortega. A breakdown in communication had seen City's usually unflappable stand-in stopper come too far off his line and Alejandro Garnacho gambled to seize on the loose ball and pass into the empty net.

If the Reds first goal had needed an element of luck, when Kobbie Mainoo steered in our second nine minutes further on, it was at the culmination of a sweeping move Pep himself would have been proud of. At that stage, we dared to dream. 

And so Manchester United's FA Cup triumph of 2024 will go down in the annals as perhaps the greatest of them all. Consider our opponents, our season, the off-field shenanigans, the crippling injury crisis which has brought the squad to their knees, and just about everything in between. Consider the fact we were written off as no hopers, outsiders, lambs to the slaughter, a mere fly on the window for City's march to the double double. Odds as long as 40/1 with some bookies. The fact we finished 31 points behind Guardiola's side in the league. I felt we 'could' win, I believed we 'might'. 

But you can surely count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who actually thought we would. Surely even the swathes of red descending on Wembley did so more in hope than tangible expectation.

As the old adage says: sometimes the journey is just as important as the destination and United's road to FA Cup redemption in 2024 certainly won't be forgotten in a hurry. Perhaps, looking back now all these months on, our name was etched on the famous trophy from the start. Some things are just meant to be. 

Whilst our 2-0 third round win at Wigan was relatively routine, what followed was anything but. Our FA Cup rollercoaster encapsulated this madcap season in microcosm. For 21 minutes in round four, Newport County's Rodney Parade was rocking to the beat of an inspired fightback from the League Two team. For 21 minutes, United were facing humiliation, a 2-0 lead gone in front of the BBC cameras and the fourth tier minnows on the cusp of surely the greatest upset of all time. And didn't the ABU's let us know it. Newport's David had his foot firmly on the throat of United's Goliath. For those 21 minutes, United were reeling, ragged and on the ropes. In the end, though, as we have so often, this confusingly chaotic United side kicked and screamed its way to victory.

By comparison, our 1-0 win in round five did not carry the same jeopardy, but how we still needed Casemiro's late intervention at the death to edge out Nottingham Forest.

Then came the quarter final, and THAT game with the old enemy. We've talked about  that here - quite simply the best game of football I have witnessed in my 30-odd years on this earth. Words still cannot do it justice to this day. 1-0 up, 2-1 and 3-2 down, we seemed dead and buried not once but twice, then seconds away from penalties. Amad went on to write the final chapter of that particular story.
Yet incredibly, the Liverpool thriller was only the aperitif. United would serve up an Eton mess entirely of their own making as the semi final's comfortable 3-0 lead eviscerated at the hands of Coventry's climb-off-the-canvas comeback. This time, only penalties spared our blushes.
The Championship side had been the draw everyone wanted and it looked like being a rare day of comfort until United lost their heads, the lead, and - almost - the tie. Arise Victor Torp's toenail. Frame it and put it in the Old Trafford archives.

And so it was: an FA Cup final victory for the annals. For United and ten Hag, a silver lining at the end of a desperately poor season. A victory so out of keeping, so unexpected, it almost seems to have come from another world. 

ten Hag has now delivered two trophies in two seasons.. Indeed, he stands in esteemed company alongside only our great Scots and Ernest Magnall as the only United managers to win trophies in successive campaigns at United. 

 

That's impressive enough, especially in this era of ultra-City dominance. Not only that, but he's done so with the best core of young talent I've seen at this club for years. Two teenagers promoted on his watch proved our match winners at Wembley. If that's not proof of this man's work at United, I don't know what is. Indeed, if that WAS his last game in charge, and I honestly hope it isn't, then what a legacy he  will leave us. 

Not just Mainoo and Garnacho but Amad and Willy Kambwala too. Rasmus Hojlund signed as a 21-year-old focal point. He's earned the chance to have another season and develop them further, to build his project and take us forward into next season. 

It would be very harsh to sack him. He's building something and deserves to stay. The last thing we want to do now is ruin his project by ripping it out and starting again. Let's now hope INEOS make the right call.