United we fall

In the newspaper business, most obituaries are penned while the deceased is still very much alive. The reams of in-depth coverage chronicling the life and times of poor old George Harrison, which engulfed the news-stands barely a day after his untimely passing, provided only the most recent example.

With the former Beatle reportedly at death’s door since the beginning of 2001, his obituary would have been sitting on the journalistic equivalent of an aircraft-carrier deck for months, ready to be launched pagewards at a moment’s notice.

The sports hacks of Britain and Ireland have followed a similar modus operandi with regard to the slow-motion disintegration of Manchester United Football Club (deceased), although they probably didn’t anticipate having to dust off that particular obit folder quite so early into the season.

As it happens, Foul Play is in agreement with the general consensus that it is all over including the shouting for United this season, especially given Saturday’s rogering by Chelsea. After the 3-1 loss at Highbury, even Robert Pires was quoted as criticising United’s listlessness and lack of desire, and when someone like Pires accuses you of lacking bottle, you know you’re getting an expert opinion.

I don’t really have the energy to get into a meticulous dissection of Laurent Blanc’s failings, but it does bear repeating that United have had no truly dominant centre-half partnership since the far-off days of Bruce and Pallister. The pairing of Jaap Stam and Ronny Johnsen looked a good bet for a while there, but they only had one full season together before injuries, ghosted autobiographies and other acts of God conspired to foul things up.

At the current time, the impregnability of that partnership seems like a distant dream. To have leaked 26 goals by the end of November, almost two per game, is simply taking the piss. Leeds, whose back four contains Danny Mills and Ian Harte, remember, have let in less than half that number.

In truth, Foul Play feared the worst for United’s campaign as soon as Johnsen got injured in that game against Deportivo La Coruna at Old Trafford. Calm, quick-thinking, skilful, even-tempered and a veritable colossus in the air, he has been United’s best defender, Stam included, since Steve Bruce left the club. Did I mention that this guy cost a miserable nine hundred grand when United signed him from Besiktas in 1996?

Tragically, after playing like a god in the 1999 Champions League final against Bayern, Johnsen missed almost a whole year’s football, and the fact that the United defence lost much of its air of security around the same time is, one suspects, not unconnected to the dire state of his knee.

Now he is out of circulation again, for an indeterminate amount of time. It could be four months, it could be six, it could be early retirement the way things are going. Meanwhile, Wes Brown and Mikael Silvestre blithely continue to carry on their excellent work at the coalface of what passes for United’s defence these days. Even if the peerless Norseman were to return tomorrow, however, the overwhelming sense is that the rot has set in already.

History has shown us that every time United relinquish “their” title, they inevitably come roaring back the following year, stronger and more fascistically dominant than ever. And certainly it wouldn’t be the first time that Ferguson’s team have been officially pronoun

ced dead at the scene, only to rise again.

The reason that you sense the jig is up has nothing to do with them being five or six points off the pace, having played a game more. We all know that United have pulled back deficits double that size in the past.

No, this has nothing to do with present numerics. It’s not the size of the current gap between United and the leaders – it’s the near-certain knowledge that said gap is going to be rather bigger by January.

At no stage this season have United looked remotely capable of putting together a seven-match unbeaten run, let alone the 25-game epic that they probably need, and which Sir Alex Ferguson has been wistfully talking about recently.

There is no sense about the current United side that they are suddenly going to magically click into gear and begin annihilating all-comers. They have had a few tough games in a row, admittedly, with only the visit of Leicester offering any respite, but the results against the Boltons and the Blackburns have been no better than those achieved against the big guns.

Having the title ripped out of your grasp by Leeds or Liverpool would be one thing. But for a United fan, to glance idly at the Premiership table and see Newcastle and Aston Villa roosting comfortably above your heroes, is like glimpsing an appalling vista from football’s own Chamber of Horrors.

It could get even worse…