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It was an occasion that David Attenborough would have liked much more than Martin Tyler. Ever since Anthony Taylor’s initial shrill hiss, the predator stalked its prey with a ruthless ferocity not seen in its natural habitat for some time.
‘This … is an intense pressure male dialing system,’ he began in his iconic voice, complete with a characteristic pause for effect. “A dangerous beast, it relies on speed and power to hunt in packs and overwhelm any target.”
The dramatic music begins to build, along with the tension of what will come next.
“But this animal often lacks a key facet that can make it incredibly vulnerable: a semblance of basic defensive instinct.”
Seconds after kick-off, before any all eight goals at Old Trafford, Manchester United invaded Leeds. They tackled, didn’t get time on the ball and subjected them to the kind of deer terror in the headlights that Marcelo Bielsa is proud to establish.
Watch it again if you get the chance: Patrick Bamford passes the ball to Mateusz Klich, who finds Raphinha. In an instant he is approached by Fred and Scott McTominay has possession. The tone is set.
Ole Gunnar Solskjaer suggested before the game that he might have to “bring a balloon to explode right in front of them” to persuade his players, who had managed to fall behind in five of their previous six games while developing a pathological need. make things always difficult for ourselves ™. As its first three minutes passed, the explosion in the locker room was closing in on Mike Phelan, scaring Sir Alex Ferguson into the awakening levels of the dugout.
It was a sight to behold. The first goal came eight seconds after Raphinha was attacked by Luke Shaw from the left wing, Marcus Rashford retained possession and combined with Bruno Fernandes to help McTominay deliver a good shot. Less than two minutes later, a Shaw throw-in caught Martial, who waited long enough to find McTominay’s incisive run into the box. His controlling touch was as sublime as the ending that followed.
Leeds was shocked. Manchester United was irrepressible. They had their third when Fernandes shot through Luke Ayling’s legs, ten seconds after a bad pass from Rodrigo under pressure from Fred was intercepted by Daniel James.
These were individual mistakes, conceded, but completely forced, like a beleaguered official sent hurtling down the court for every point from Roger Federer while barely appearing to sweat.
It’s these performances that make so many of the others so frustrating. Manchester United have a group of players eminently capable of this, bending teams to their will under the weight of their offensive brilliance. Defensive woes remain, as the two goals conceded attest, but those forwards are the envy of most of the continent.
Behind them, McTominay, Fred and Shaw were especially good, participating in more vibrant breaks than Ronnie O’Sullivan in his prime. Only a poor finish from Anthony Martial and Illan Meslier’s top goal prevented them from a genuinely threatening double figure.
Solskjaer was the architect, selecting James in perhaps the one perfect game for him to start on the entire schedule, with each of his substitutions timed well enough to harness momentum when needed and offer breaks to those who rarely get it. allow. It was far from perfect and Leeds exploited areas of weakness for much of the match, but Liverpool literally beat someone 7-0 on Saturday despite being practically even for the entirety of the first half and, by her captain’s own admission, “neglected”.
This season is stupid and so are we for trying to make sense of it. Manchester United take that sentiment to new extremes each week, but are now in third place with one game in hand, undefeated in seven and on the road from one of only two teams above them currently on Boxing Day. With his visitor form and Leicester troubles at home, he’s starting to look like an ideal Christmas present.
Leicester is likely not as accommodating as Leeds was here, torn into the kind of animal display that showed off its best and worst features. But Manchester United, for all their ridiculousness, have long had good enough firepower to declare themselves a distant second best after Liverpool, which is much more of a compliment than it sounds. In this puzzling campaign, they may also have the teammates, the manager, and the consistency needed for that claim.
Matt stead
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