Dynamics of Perfection

We are living in a world of football. And it’s a world, which is hailing one god: Sir Alex Ferguson. He is the manager, tactician and Master behind a team of phenomenal individualists playing as one collective, as one Band of Brothers. He will always be one of the greatest guys in the history of Manchester United, because he will be in our memories as the genius, who slaughtered the record-number of eighteen titles by Liverpool. He is the one and only man, who formed the best team in England and even Europe or the whole wide world. Now he can sit down on his throne and smile, as rascally and roguishly as he always had, chewing on a gum, because he got the 19th title in the long history of the Red Devils.

Arsene Wenger, Harry Redknapp, Roberto Mancini, Carlo Ancelotti. Each of them just marks time. Wenger hasn’t a fix idea of defensive-minded football, Redknapp hasn’t the possibilities to form a international competitive team, Mancini can’t see the ball because of the mountains of money surrounding him and Carlo Ancelotti dreams of his big love AS Roma. During this period Sir Alex just had one plan: To be the god leading an army of angels. A army playing excellent football. They dominate league and Champions League with sheer mental and tactical superiority. They are the manifestation of long-period orientated football. While Abramovich is getting older and – of course – not poorer, but grey-haired, the Sir uses his only weakness of being hopelessly indebted.

There are two league games left, out of which they have to get one point. Shouldn’t be a problem, as the final two league games are against relegation-suspected teams: Blackburn and Blackpool. Looks like going on vacation, doesn’t it? And finally, the little boy will smile down on us triumphantly. But they are champions already, since Chicharito scored against inferior Chelsea FC after 37 seconds on a long reminded Sunday. The Blues only attainment was avoiding a slaughtering debacle against a second to none Manchester side. The secret of Manchester’s success ins’t a Wayne Rooney, nor a Ryan Giggs, it’s a glorious playing Michael Carrick. He is the key to eternal and everlasting success for Manchester United. He will be the hero of a generation following the golden one with Scholes and Giggs. He plays with delight, intelligence, diligence and technical know-how. He is a midfielder of perfection; before he is almost invisible, after he passes the killer-ball – and it hits in like a bullet into the heart of his enemies.

Manchester United is a phenomenon. They play virtuously, as one unit, monolithic, all of a piece. Undescribable in simple words. They force their opponents into a massacre like the retreat from Kabul under the aegis of Elphey Bey. They formed the theatre of dreams into a impregnable castle, their pitch into the fields of Waterloo. And finally they beat their opponent number one. It’s like dancing cha-cha on the grave of your fiends. And Chelsea? They were obsolete, petrified like Lot’s wife in the story of Sodom and Gomorrha. So by now, there are just two problems left for the Scot: debts and the near end of Scholes and Giggs. But with Carrick playing like a football-god, point two shouldn’t be a real problem. But if Sir Alex continues this way, he would cash down their debts. And after dust has settled, they will be even stronger.