RED11.ORG

Posted by PaulJ on 2009-05-09 @ 7:38:58 -0600

All Over You

Highbury is my most visited away ground and will always occupy a special place in my affection as it is there I first saw United; Law Best and Charlton playing in royal blue. This is the first time I have succeeded in the ballot for The Emirates, a ground where United had never won. The stadium is undeniably impressive, especially inside; a great concrete bowl with an undulating rim, spacious in every way; the plastic seats are enormous, designed for the burger-stuffing twenty stone Type B diabetic. Each Arsenal fan had been issued with a pretty flag on a stick and the pre-match atmosphere I witnessed bore no resemblance to the infamed library. The announcer called out the first name of each of their players for the crowd to chant back the last name. It’s not only Elland Road that is full of sheep.

We had picked the wrong team. The minute I saw it I knew. The defence was fine but there were no strikers. Rooney and Ronaldo were in the wrong positions and it was a team of workhorses. And fancy picking Park ahead of both Tévez and Berbatov! We were going to be cautious.
From the kick-off Arsenal were swarming, their big players back, my worst predictions unfolding. For seven long minutes our lustiest belting out of the rude and great ballads was drowned in the Norf Lundon exhilaration. Their moment of glory was upon them. It was going to be a long night.

I never pray for football results. Less sinful men than me support the opposition and I figure God already has his hands full with famine, war, pestilence and the family down the road. Yet I am about to see a miracle. It started when Evra cleared to Ronaldo. United probed up the right, to Park; it was not on, the ball was worked back to Van der Sar, ten passes. Van der Sar to Vidic, takes his time, drills it up to Rooney on the left wing who heads it back to Anderson, a couple of touches, passes it through for Ronaldo, left side, onside, cuts it across the area. Arsenal have been watering the pitch lavishly to suit their style; young Kieran Gibbs loses his footing. Ji Sung Park takes it, Manuel Almunia comes out, Park somehow manages to clip it over him and we watch as at the far end of the pitch it describes a lazy parabola and nestles gently in the net. Sixty two seconds from Evra’s touch, fifteen passes taking us the length of the field three times, the away goal; delirium; 7 minutes 1-0, they need to score three now to beat us.

Park up the right touchline is clattered by Cesc Fàbregas, still gets the ball to Ronaldo, who goes down under a mild dead leg challenge from Van Persie. The free kick is soft, according to Jim Beglin on the television but it is a foul and it’s probably something to do with Fàbregas getting away with his three seconds earlier. Forty one yards, wide on the right, a wall of two. It’s too far out to go for goal, even for Ronaldo. It hurtles between Almunia and his near post. Down in the corner behind the Arsenal goal we are jumping up and down like lunatics, people I have never met are kissing me, Ronnie is striding down the touchline pointing at his nipples (of which he seems unhealthily proud), Arsenal fans are throwing bottles of water at him. I cannot believe what I am watching; 10 minutes 2-0. Two minutes later and Evra floats a ball over the top, Ronaldo is onside, glides onto it, fails for once to control it; it should be three; o joy, o rapture unforeseen! Shades of the Stadium of Light a third of a century ago.

Every Arsenal twist and turn is shadowed, snuffed. They like to play it through the middle, they have more of the ball, but they get nowhere. When Theo Walcott beats Evra he has Fletcher to contend with, when he thinks he has beaten him Evra gets him second time around. They do better on the flanks but Vidic and Rio and O’Shea and Fletcher are commanding in the air. Seventeen minutes and Evra starts another break, Rooney, left corner of the area, curling for the far corner, Almunia does his stuff, left hand. From the corner Ronnie heads it narrowly wide.

So it continues, United run circles all around; Almunia handles a powerful Ronnie free kick, we small band in what is now a giant stadium of mourning are torn between singing and dancing the entire repertoire of the songbook and fretting each time Samir Nasri on their left or Walcott on their right gets a little space; could it all still go wrong? Emmanuel Adebayor is allowed a header at last; he misses by miles. Surely I am dreaming.
We must survive intact until half time. I don my black woolly United hat to protect me from the gentle but discernible drizzle of liquid (water, I hope, second choice sputum) descending upon me from Gooners above.

After the interval Arsenal come out and have a real go for a while and I revise my pessimism spectrum; we need a clean sheet until the hour. Ten minutes before that point Ferdinand clears to Fletcher and Ronnie cuts in and shoots for the near post; Almunia pulls off a fine save. On the hour Arsenal are at last producing an offensive, we are defending deeper, the greater part of the crowd has woken up, Nasri’s shot is blocked, the corner is cleared and Bacary Sagna puts in a cross.

What follows is majestic beyond adequate description. Television does it insufficient justice. Vidic heads clear Sagna’s cross; Ronaldo is just outside his own area and he backheels it, Park picks it up, strides through the middle of the field with Rooney and Ronaldo racing forward and picks out Rooney on the left wing, a pass of beauty. Rooney is bearing down upon the Arsenal goal. Shoot, man, shoot. He sees that Ronaldo is level with his man on the opposite wing and he judges his pass across the entire width of the area to the inch, evading the defender. Ronaldo wins his race by a hairsbreadth, meets it fifteen yards out first time and it screams into the roof of the net in front of me. End to end, seven touches (Park and Rooney took two each), 3-0. A goal made in Heaven, a Nessun Dorma of sport. Less operatically we dance a jig; “We’re going to Rome, and that’s a fact”.

Stung and upset and far too late, Arsenal attack with a frenzy and leave themselves open. Anderson dribbles through the entire Arsenal midfield and into the area and then can’t work out what to do. The announcer invites us again to sit down “We’ll sit down when Anderson scores” we sing. The upper tiers of the stadium are emptying. Giggs comes on for Anderson, Rooney and Evra are substituted to avoid yellow cards and suspension but life always has a little spoiling trick up its sleeve.

Nasri puts a slick little pass through for Fàbregas and Fletcher tackles him. Risky, but he does it perfectly, wrapping his leg around him and winning the ball. Fàbregas goes down, referee Roberto Rosetti gives a penalty and then quite without justification sends off and out of the final the man who has done so much work this season and tonight; Darren Fletcher’s dreams are dreamed out. Van Persie takes an unstoppable penalty into the top corner; 72 minutes 3-1. The announcer tells us the scorer is Robin, awaiting the massed response from the Arsenal faithful, but they have all gone home long ago. It is Arsenal’s second meaningful goalbound shot of the entire tie.

“Four more and you’re going to Rome” we sing but I nervously calculate that they will need a goal every five minutes. When it gets down to a goal every two minutes even I relax. Giggs misses a good chance but he can smile about it now.

What a feeling it is to stroll out into the warm London evening and listen quietly to whinges of woe and rants about the referee as I discuss Rome tickets on my mobile. We are in the final and right now I don’t care who we play. I am more worried about City on Sunday and about whether we can do it all again the following week; surely Arsenal will be out for revenge. We have as yet won nothing. If we do win something, it won’t feel much better than this.

Paul James

Posted by Bill on 2009-05-05 @ 20:07:41 -0600

Like the great Emperors of the past, Sir Alex Ferguson will attempt to rule Rome in three weeks' time after Manchester United produced an awesome attacking display to destroy Arsenal.

A fortuitous opener from Park Ji-sung was followed by a thunderous 40-yard free-kick from Cristiano Ronaldo to effectively book a Champions League final date with Chelsea or Barcelona on May 27 after only 11 minutes.

Ronaldo capped a fine performance and drew howls of glee from David Beckham, who had made the trip from Milan to witness a victory that will go alongside that staggering win over Juventus in 1999 that the former England skipper was a part of, by sliding home a third goal, his 25th of the season.

It was not quite a perfect night for United. How could it be when Darren Fletcher ended it in disbelief at the red card for a tackle on Cesc Fabregas which will rule him out of the Italian job.

However, it was not far off, leaving United to await events at Stamford Bridge on Wednesday with so many neutrals, if not a Chelsea side hell-bent on revenge, hoping Barcelona set up what would be a dream decider.

No amount of meticulous planning can legislate for bad luck.

It is the unknown factor that, in an instant, can screw any amount of hopes and dreams into the tightest ball and throw them out of the highest window, never to be seen again.

Kieran Gibbs has not been a first-team regular very long. Fitness permitting, he has almost a decade and a half in front of him in the Arsenal side.

It is a fair bet, at the end of his career, the 18-year-old still regards the horror that unfolded eight minutes into what was such an eagerly-awaited contest as the worst moment he had to endure.

In his head, Gibbs was about to control Ronaldo's cutback, then decide whether to play a short pass out of defence or present Manuel Almunia with a routine clearance. Fate had other plans.

Instead, poor Gibbs lost his footing and hit the ground with a thump. Like lightning, Park seized on the loose ball, delicately lifting it over Almunia, whose arrival came just too late.

The United contingent went delirious. Fans, coaches, manager, players, Beckham alike all knew what it meant. They knew the prospect of Arsenal getting three to go through was so remote to be beyond comprehension.

But if United's opener came courtesy of good fortune, their next was the result of audacity, mixed with high ability.

To even think of going for goal from the spot when Robin van Persie had clattered into Ronaldo would be dismissed by most professionals as foolhardy.

Yet, in Porto three weeks ago, the world player of the year drove home a shot measured at exactly 39.1 yards. As Ronaldo stepped back and waited from even further out, ready to unleash his missile, Almunia knew what to expect.

Indeed, it could be argued that from such distances, not goalkeeper should be beaten.

But as Ronaldo let fly, with venom, and watched his shot dip and flicker, Almunia was powerless to prevent it ripping into the net.

If three was unlikely, four was an impossibility, turning the remaining 79 minutes into an extended wake, leaving Arsene Wenger on the bench wondering what had hit him, knowing his Champions League obsession will not end in Roman triumph.

In fairness, Arsenal tried to rally. It was just that by pushing forward, they left wide open gaps that United are too experienced to ignore.

Almunia's fingertips denied Wayne Rooney, Ronaldo's header from the corner whistled wide, then two more free-kicks from the latter were saved.

When the Portuguese player cut inside Emmanuel Eboue, on as a half-time replacement to put Gibbs out of his misery, the shot would have found the bottom corner had Almunia not denied him.

There was nothing the Spaniard could do when United attacked again, Ronaldo supplying the finish to Rooney's cross.

As his players cavorted in glee, Ferguson ordered them to tone down their celebrations out of respect to the hosts.

It was the only mercy the Red Devils showed all night, although for Fletcher there was a nasty sting in the tail.

The Scot got studs on the ball before sending Fabregas flying in the penalty area, earning him a red card which will rule him out of the final. Van Persie impressively converted the spot-kick - but it was little consolation for Arsenal.

Teams

Arsenal Almunia, Sagna, Toure, Djourou, Gibbs (Eboue 45), Walcott (Bendtner 63), Fabregas, Song Billong, Nasri, Van Persie (Vela 79), Adebayor.

Subs Not Used: Fabianski, Silvestre, Diaby, Denilson.

Booked: Nasri, Adebayor, Eboue.

Goals: Van Persie 76 pen.

Man Utd Van der Sar, O'Shea, Ferdinand, Vidic, Evra (Rafael Da Silva 65), Fletcher, Carrick,Anderson (Giggs 63), Park, Ronaldo, Rooney (Berbatov 66).

Subs Not Used: Kuszczak, Evans, Scholes, Tevez.

Sent Off: Fletcher (75).

Goals: Park 8, Ronaldo 11, 61.

Agg (1-4)

Att: 59,867

Ref: Roberto Rosetti (Italy).
sportinglife.com

Posted by Barry on 2009-04-29 @ 23:52:08 -0600

United lead 1-0 going into the 2nd leg:

2009-04-29 Manchester United 1-0 Arsenal
Old Trafford (74,733) (ECup) (19:45)
Lineup: Van der Sar, O'Shea, Ferdinand, Vidic, Evra, FletcherD, Carrick, AndersonL, Ronaldo, Tevez, Rooney
Goals: O'Shea1

2009-04-15 - United eliminate Porto and will face Arsenal in the Semi-Final!

2009-03-20 - United are drawn against FC Porto in the Quarter Finals.

2009-03-11 - United advance to the Quarter Finals!
2008-12-19 - First knockout round - United drawn against Inter Milan

2008-12-10 - Manchester United win Group E
2008-11-25 - Manchester United qualify for the next Stage.
2008-08-28 - Manchester United is drawn into Group E.
QuarterFinal Stage - Fixtures / Results
MatchDay 9 - APR 08 2009
England Manchester United FC FC Porto 2 - 2
MatchDay 10 - APR 15 2008
FC Porto England Manchester United FC 0 - 1
Knockout Stage - Fixtures / Results
MatchDay 7 - 24 FEB 2009
FC Internazionale Milano England Manchester United FC 0 - 0
MatchDay 8 - 10 MAR 2009
England Manchester United FC FC Internazionale Milano 2 - 0