Well was it THE greatest goal ever scored at Old Trafford?
Sir Taggart insists that it was. The Rooney Monster says it was the best goal of his career.
So who am I to argue then? It was, in truth, a wonder goal. A
moment of sheer blinding brilliance which will be talked about and
replayed for years to come.
I wonder what Rooney felt when that spectacular overhead kick zoomed past Joe Hart like a tracer bullet.
My guess is that he felt relief rather than elation. Relief
that his God-given talent hadn’t deserted him for good. Relief that he
could still score goals which lesser players can only dream about.
I’m also guessing that in a quiet moment on Saturday night
Rooney wished that he had scored a goal like that wearing the blue shirt
of Everton against Liverpool.
Because we all know that deep down Rooney is an Evertonian.
And can anything be better than scoring a wonder goal against your
genuine derby rivals – in his case Liverpool?
You see, the disappointment for me is not that the Blessed Blues were beaten by the Reds on Saturday.
The disappointment for me is that from a playing perspective a
Manchester derby these days has very little to do with Manchester and
its surrounds.
How many of those players on both sides who walked out of the
tunnel at Old Trafford at lunchtime on Saturday were born or raised in
the Greater Manchester area?
The answer is two – and both were wearing red shirts.
The first is Ryan Giggs who was born in Cardiff but brought up
in Salford. The other is Paul Scholes who was born in Salford but
brought up in Langley, North Manchester.
I thought there was a third in Micah Richards until I
discovered that the City full-back was actually born in Birmingham and
raised in Leeds.
So just two local lads among the 22 players who started
Saturday’s match. Can that be described as a Manchester derby? For the
fans, absolutely yes. For the vast majority of those players, absolutely
no. Just another game like any other.
Saturday’s encounter saddened me because I’m old enough to
remember when a Manchester derby was exactly what it said on the label.
Fans of my generation can still picture Nobby Stiles (Moston)
dumping Neil Young (Fallowfield) into the third row of the main stand.
We can still wince at the memory of Mike Doyle (Reddish) and Brian Kidd (Collyhurst) kicking seven bells out of each other.
Because back then in the sixties and early seventies that was
what Manchester derbies were like. Local lad against local lad fighting
for pride as much as points.
In the run-up to Saturday’s derby Giggs said that if his team
lost to the Blues he would lock himself away in his house for the next
week.
Ryan, of course, was joking. But in the sixties and seventies
that’s exactly what the losing players in a Manchester derby would do.
They would go into hiding for a week. They would steer clear
of their local pub or favourite restaurant for fear of running into fans
who still hadn’t swallowed the disappointment of a derby defeat.
Do you think that Carlos Tevez imprisoned himself in his own house over the weekend?
Had his team lost would Dimitar Berbatov have gone straight to
bed on Saturday evening, vowing to remain there for the next seven
days?
Of course not. And why should they? Tevez is Argentinian.
Berbatov is Bulgarian. How can they have the same feeling for a
Manchester derby that a home-grown player would?
I suppose it’s just a sign of the times and I’m a grumpy old dinosaur who is still living in the past.
But I’m proud of the fact that when the Blues won the First
Division title in 1968 every single member of that team was born and
bred in England.
That’s never going to happen again, is it? And Manchester
derbies will never again be jam-packed with players born or raised in
this city. I’ve got to accept it. But nobody will ever make me embrace
it.
->> Everyone feeling the impact of globalisation, even Football. We have blurred the lines of our identity.