My old man was a great lover of both westerns and epics such as Ben Hur and the one about Moses. These always had either Charlton Heston or Kirk Douglas in them – and no I don’t mean Spartacus. The Moses one was called something else I cannot now remember.
One of these aforementioned epics the old boy thoroughly enjoyed was about the Trojan War. It featured a battle between triremes and lesser vessels.
As the triremes descended on Piraeus, or wherever, there was a close-up of a really meaty fella banging the drum at the back of the boat who looked exactly like Andy Ruiz Jr minus the tattoos and shouted “ramming speed”. The trireme oars were put up and the smaller boats were blistered to shreds.
And that’s exactly what happened to us on Sunday and served to outline our immediate footballing future. We were annihilated in five minutes. There was no coming back on matchday and I’m really sorry to say there will be no extrication from the abyss at season’s end.
We simply don’t have the physical capability to survive in the Premier League. We really don’t. I cannot pick anybody who played particularly badly [and I wouldn’t if I could] but let’s be honest: the rocket from Chris Wilder addressed to certain backsides at half time did its stuff. For the Blades, not us.
I guess we have to look at it the awkward way now. Eleven points from how many games? Errm I guess that’s season over although other MFW folks might feel differently to me.
Emi Buendia had his best game for ages, Tim Krul was as excellent as ever and it was great to see Mario Vrancic back.
But to counterbalance that, the Blades [at times] toyed with us as our terriers do with a rat. Or in our particular case sometimes a cardboard tube [the dogs are non-selective], but the point remains.
I was one of the biggest advocates of our doubtless undeniable PL survival this season before a ball was even kicked. Hands up it was me. And several more of you!
But it ain’t working out, so realistically we now have a stark choice.
We waste a lot of kite in January [relax, it ain’t gonna happen] or accept our fate with as much dignity as we can muster.
Self-sustainment will never work and we are the living, breathing proof of it. Spend money on players? No m’dears we won’t be doing that. Not in my relatively short remaining lifetime anyway.
I expect a lot of flak for giving the season up as lost on December 10 and I’d love to hear from all you good folks who think I’m wrong. But I do wonder what’s going on when you’ve got a game potentially won and then basically sling it away.
Which is exactly what we contrived to achieve on Sunday.
And as for the old films my Dad loved, I reckon there’s one line from one of them that describes us accurately just now: James Cagney sobbing “I coulda been a contender, Ma” in White Heat in 1949.
But that quote isn’t strictly for City and its supporters. Circumstances dictate that we cannot be a contender. Shame.
We’re close, yet so far away. Too far away.