A year on, the thick end of £150m spent, and Louis Van Gaal employed as manager, Manchester United are no further up the league ladder than they were under David Moyes. What gives?
Column inches and 24 hour sports news broadcasts aren't filled magically by mysterious news elves, it takes some real hard interrogation of The Twitter for that these days, and so when easy stories come along you can forgive producers and news editors for taking the easy way out sometimes rather than, you know, investigating and that.
It's why Jose Mourinho making passing comments about Arsene Wenger's voyeuristic tendencies and his team's propensity to fall at the final hurdle can be expanded out into a "war of words" story that can drag on and on and on for days on end until your brain becomes so numb that the whole world and time itself just seems to slow into one congealed mass of syrupy fog which you have to work bloody hard to wade through every day just to get to the bloody office. It's boring, it's irrelevant, and even the majority of Chelsea and Arsenal fans couldn't give a shit about it, but it's there and it's easy and if you package it up as "mind games" you can sell it to the lowest common denominators among modern day football fans without too much effort at all.
It's why Super Frankie Lampard moving to a franchise that doesn't actually exist yet in New York City in May instead of January (I know, I know, I've found sitting in a dark corner and breathing nice and steadily and deeply can just about get me through it so try that) is worthy of as many as five pages in some of last weekend's sports sections. Lying to the people of New York like that, corrupting the entire transfer system like that, dirty tricks like those, from Cousin Frank — a scandal and story the likes of which we haven't seen since Michael Buerk went to Ethiopia for the first time. Hold the fucking press right there, we're clearing six sheets for this.
And it's why it was inevitable that whoever followed Alex Ferguson as Manchester United manager would have literally every step of their reign, right down to training session by training session and press conference by press conference, judged against what Ferguson was doing at the equivalent stage. Actually, that's not strictly true, because Ferguson wasn't much good at Manchester United for the first two and a half years of his reign, while David Moyes was afforded only a tortuous nine months at the helm during which time he transformed from a fiery, flame-haired Scot with a glint in his blue eyes into a grey, lifeless, shell of a man with a faraway stare and the air of a man who needs help from his wife just to leave the house in the morning and face the world. "What would Fergie do in this situation? What team would Fergie pick? Fergie wouldn't stand for this," we all said (apparently) as each glorious goal conceded at Old Trafford was immediately followed by a shot of Fergie up in the director's box.
Incidentally, 25 years of near continuous, unparallel success, a procession of trophies and the long-awaited restoration of one of the country's most famous old footballing institutions to the pinnacle of the English (and on a couple of occasions European) sport qualifies you only for the seat next to Mick Hucknell it turns out. I bet he wished he hadn't bothered.
Of course, once Moyes had been ushered off into the padded room by a kindly old nurse — Pat maybe, or June — whispering "yes I know David, come on lovey, let's sit over here quietly a while" it was inevitable that the lucky man left to sweep up after him would have his results, training sessions, press conferences, clothes, hair, mannerisms, teeth, wife, car, washing powder and everything else besides judged against just how bloody awfully the former Everton boss had done. The lucky man in question was Louis Van Gaal who, legend has it, started a reign at Bayern Munich by removing his shrivelled scrotum from its dark, musty home and showed it to the first team squad to prove that he did indeed have the balls for the job.
Van Gaal's arrival was met with the sort of sycophantic press hysteria only previously seen when Kate Middleton dropped her sprog. Wall to wall coverage of literally everything. On the night Tony Pulis sensationally walked out on Crystal Palace just days before the start of the new season, Sky Sports News led with Wayne Rooney being confirmed as Van Gaal's first captain. As well as the ballbag thing, and the successful spells at Bayern, Barcelona and elsewhere, Van Gaal had also taken Holland to the semi-finals of a World Cup, winning a penaltuy shoot out after changing his goalkeeper at the last second along the way. He was hailed by one national journalist as this country's first super star manager, to go with the super star players of the Premier League, of which Van Gaal and United signed six for £145m.
So, all set to restore normality then. Liverpool left to curse missing an opportunity to end that long wait for a title for another 20 years as United pick up where they left off, sweeping all before them and torching the fields of Anfield Road while laughing manically.
Well, not quite. Although QPR — feckless, waste of space that they are — rolled over and died 4-0 at Old Trafford in mid-September that was actually Man Utd's first win and they'd already lost to Swansea and MK Dons and drawn with Sunderland and Burnley by that point. Last weekend's 1-0 home defeat by Southampton — a tactical victory for Ronald Koeman who we're assured by the media is at permanent war with Van Gaal — means that after 21 games they have 37 points, which is exactly the same as they managed under Mr Dead.
So £145m spent, no European fixtures to clog the list, no League Cup fixtures to add midweek commitments, shiny new manager — and still exactly where they were a year ago. Fetch me the wicker man and fire-lighters.
Except, no. Van Gaal's reputation, past achievements and, frankly, bullish self belief mean that he's being given an easier ride by both fans and press so far. He's had to contend with a well documented 46 injuries to first team players already this season which has, on the negative side, hindered his quest to discover his best 11 and get it out on the field but also, on the positive, kept at bay any dissenting voices around the three at the back system he loves so much but doesn't appear to be working. The transfers, expensive and eye-catching though they were, have left United top heavy. Van Gaal admits he cannot juggle all five of the exceptional attacking players he has at his disposal, and last week left Radamel Falcao out altogether, while selecting Angel Di Maria out of position as a centre forward, with Wayne Rooney in midfield. You can imagine the reaction Moyes doing the same, for the same result, would have brought about.
But by doing that, and at times selecting youngsters like James Wilson, Paddy McNair and Tyler Blackett ahead of more proven, and often very expensive, first team players, you just get a feeling that Van Gaal is restoring a culture that Ferguson embedded so deeply. Big players will be signed for big money, but youth teamers will still be brought through, the team and the club will remain bigger than any individual, and a powerful manager will always have the final say, shout, punch or flying boot. For all the "same points as Moyes" coverage this is clearly a better United team than it was 12 months ago, and by going out and chucking money at proven players it's behaving more like United have for the last two decades. It is a work in progress, hampered by injuries, unsure of a true winning formula, with defence so leaky it's like going to sea in a sieve, but it looks fairly ominous.
For the United haters, defeats so hilarious under Moyes are now firmly tempered by a feeling of "enjoy it while it lasts".
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