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Valencia is the home of Paella. If you have visited the town where
the Llotja de la Seda stands as a glorious memorial to secular medieval power,
you will have found slightly less well restored, L’Estadio Mestalla, a grand old
home for Spain’s third most successful and third best supported club, whom
Alfredo di Stéfano once managed and for whom Mario Kempes played. United’s
record at this traditional ground is not a glorious one. We lost out first
match there in May 1962, going down by five goals to three in a post-season
friendly. Ron Atkinson’s visit in the UEFA Cup in 1982 when we needed a score
draw was a sorry tale of a dubiously disallowed goal, missed chances, and Bryan
Robson giving us a splendid lead only to be beaten by a cheating penalty and a
loss of concentration in the blindness of anger which followed.

In contrast, Ferguson’s visits to the city have been goalless. In 2000 both
sides had qualified from the group and affected a truce; the following year
United survived when Valencia were on top. Given that our two more recent
visits to the region, to Villarreal up the coast, have also been goalless it was
a reflection of the much venditated fragility of the United defence that one
could get odds at all on a scoreless result this time around. Football is so
hard to predict. Most of us were confident of three points at Bolton on Sunday
and fearful that we would get none at the home of the leaders of La Liga, a
result that would have left us with work to do to qualify from the group.

The United line-up was dictated mainly by injuries but partly by Ferguson’s
decision to address what he called carelessness. Wayne Rooney, Ryan Giggs, Gary
Neville and Paul Scholes had all been left behind for treatment so we played
Dimitar Berbatov as the lone striker, a role perhaps more suited to him than to
Rooney, and Ji-Sung Park on the left flank; Nani is better on the right and with
Antonio Valencia’s injury has no real challenger for that slot. More
interesting was the selection of Rafael Da Silva at right back for John O’Shea
(arguably our most off-form defender in recent weeks), the return of Rio
Ferdinand at the centre in place of Jonny Evans (fingers crossed but thank
goodness) and the selection of match-unfit Anderson and Michael Carrick in the
midfield to partner Darren Fletcher.

Rangers, of course, set new levels of negativity and boredom in this competition
the other week, so it was a comparative philosophy that allowed the spectator to
convince himself that the first half was mildly interesting. United began
brightly despite the vagarious distribution of Carrick, in particular.
Berbatov’s twenty yard shot deflected narrowly wide and Anderson looked more
like the man who famously gave Steve Gerrard as good as he got than the one who
had lost direction before his injury.

The Spaniards, who on this day of general strike also elected to play with only
one striker, preferred to rely upon the counter, particularly through Pablo
Hernández on the right who gave Evra a torrid time. There were no shots on
target by either side during the first forty five minutes and but one
heart-stopping moment, when Rio gave the ball away in midfield and the entire
right side of our defence displayed its vagility. Nemanja Vidi? was forced to
cover for Rafael and when Alejandro Dominguez crossed, Van der Sar tried to
prevent the ball entering the vorage behind him but it cleared his fingertips
and Roberto Soldado, standing unimpeded by Evra, his marker, and six yards out
before a vacant goal, somehow managed to head it over.

United began the second half with more energy but it was obvious that chances
would be scarce. We wasted our first corner kick which was won ten minutes into
the half, but just before the hour Darren Fletcher found Berbatov with a
diagonal pass of astronomical distance which the Bulgarian took like the master
of the ball he is. He raced in on goal but shot early under pressure; even so,
goalkeeper César Sánchez did well to stretch a leg and deflect it.

Tired United legs were beginning to tell, however, and within minutes of
Berbatov’s effort Valencia introduced a second striker, Aritz Adruiz. For a
while the home side began to play like one. Vidi? and Rio got through it but
there were some difficult moments, not least when Adruiz produced an
undefendable cross for Soldado, who outmaneuvered our captain but could not
quite make contact with his diving header. Rafael looked impassable when he was
at his station. He had deserted once in the first half but now when his absence
left Pablo in an identical situation to that from which we lost a goal to Martin
Petrov at the weekend, Nani’s tackle was decisive and prompt.

Playing in a stadium last refurbished for the 1982 World Cup, some of the home
players began to demonstrate they were at old tricks yet. David Navarro’s
casual stamp on Vidi?’s chest was no accident. It was worse than that for which
Roy Keane was once sent off in Porto, a decision which may well have cost us the
Champions League that year. Navarro’s offence was not spotted by any of the
five match officials. Jérémy Mathieu’s tread on Nani was penalized but a tired
Anderson wasted the free kick. Overall the night was getting pricklier and
United’s chances of survival looking dimmer.

At this point Ferguson saw that some replenishment was necessary but when he
invited O’Shea to warm up the fear was that he would take off a strong, young
fullback whose performance was giving little cause for concern, or replace a
midfielder and play for the draw. His guardian angel, however, reminded him of
the United tradition and instead he brought on Javier Hernández for Anderson.
Almost immediately, Hernández was through on Nani’s ball, but Berbatov had been
nobbled and there was no-one to whom he could centre.

The description of the succeeding minutes as a smash and grab somewhat ignores
the evidence. According to the ITV at this point possession had been 52% to 48%
in Valencia’s favour, we had had one shot each on target and three corners
apiece. Their goalkeeper had been the only one required to make a top class
save. As Valencia turned up the pressure, so they became more vulnerable to the
counter. Nani produced a curling, teasing cross which Hernández met at the far
post with a run a split second too late; he stretched but his shot hit the
outside of the woodwork.

Then Ferguson completed his masterplan, sending on Federiko Macheda for a
Berbatov who had slogged away at a largely thankless task all night. In the
area Rafael very nearly gave away a handball and from this unpromising moment
the match was decided. The ball got to Nani, close by the right touchline and
well within his own half. His run, during which he twice retained control of a
ball where the tacklers chances looked better than even, took him to level with
the penalty area, where he neatly cut it in to Macheda, who passed it on to
Hernández, edge of the area, centre of the goal. Two defenders on him, one
touch to bisect them, the second to slot it inside the goalkeeper’s left hand
post; 86 minutes 1-0.

Martial responses from frustrated home players increased; César took umbrage at
Macheda’s presence for no obvious reason; it looked as if he would clock one on
the United youngster but he was restrained. Then Adruiz responded to Rafael’s
cramp attack by trying to manhandle him off the pitch. Van der Sar gathered
Pablo’s best effort and there was Nani again, dribbling the long way round the
Valencia defence. This time Hernández could not convert. As added time ticked
away and the locals departed the vomitories to make their way home through the
strikebound city, Adruiz elbowed Evra. One got the feeling that the return
might be laced with vendetta if the stakes are high.

What is there not to satisfy? A clean sheet, several youngsters
habilitated or rehabilitated, a competent away performance, a superb goal,
leadership of the group. A word of caution, though. If the Turks are going to
lose against both Rangers and Valencia twice then the usual ten points may not
be enough.

Paul Andrew James