With 30 seconds left of stoppage time the season was officially over. And yet here I sit. Monday morning. Writing about the most epic weekend in the calender for Manchester United where the dice rolled in our favour in absolutely every instance.
Paul Scholes' last seconds header will go down in United folklore. A one of those 'where were you?' moments. The 36 year old's desire to start a move that he finished off with a trademark late run into the box is a credit to the spirit of the club and the effervescence of a player that many believe is finished. It was so special that Gary Neville even gave him one of his 'special kisses' normally reserved only for his best bud David Beckham. You really think you have seen it all when it comes to our football team, and then that somehow goes and happens.
Overall I thought we did very well against City. Compared to the Blackburn game, you can see what a different side we are even with a disabled Wayne Rooney up front. He bubbles with confidence and his team mates feed off that like blood thirsty leeches. City showed that inspite of the zillions of pounds, they are still immature when it comes to the business end of a game. Tevez, Bellamy and Adebayor all looked liked strangers on the day, and played like players with one eye on the summer.
United on the other hand fought for the little bit of life they had left in their season. That was all i wanted to see really. I had conceded the title in the way that bookies pay out early on odds in football. I could hear the fat lady (or was that Frank Lampard?) starting to sing in the distance and presumed that it would all be over quite soon. I just didn't want United to get beaten by City and then end up losing the title by 10 points or something like. I just wanted a modicum of respect and dignity..a noble death. But we all got a glorious stay of execution! Lady luck saw us on our knees, and reached out with her precious, delicate hand.
As I threw myself around in front of the telly, convulsing in derby day glory and foaming at the mouth, I still had no hope in the fact that Spurs would actually turn up twice in a week and beat a big four team. I was just pleased that we could look back on the end of the season and feel that the lads stretched themselves and finished with a bit of style. Chelsea were going to be champions and I would pat them on the back....well, that could still happen. But with the result at White Hart Lane, and the miracle that was Wigan destroying a spineless Arsenal in ten mental minutes, the race is very much back on. How we are in this position I just don't know. After watching the team trudge around Ewood Park last week, it really all seemed like a formality.
It's wondrous that we are going to the wire. Spurs will be a formidable hurdle to get over next weekend, but the fact that the game now has relevance is a victory in itself! If we can keep Rooney patched up for the next three games we have a puncher's chance. Chelsea are edging it with a couple of more rounds won, but if this is the twelfth and final round, we are the ones with the momentum. They look bloody and battered, whereas we have the intestinal fortitude of a Rocky Balboa.
It's gonna be emotional!
Liverpool will do us no favours, so lets hope that Stoke or Wigan can do us all a massive one. Glory glory!!!
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