Manchester United 1 - 0 Everton

Half-time: 0 - 0

Surprisingly, Everton set the pace for much of the first half, creating a number of chances and pressing the red horde back into their half of the field.  Then Jeff Winter booked Gravesen for a perfectly good tackle on Beckham in which the Dane won the ball fair and square.  That set the scene for an exhibition of utterly dire refereeing but Everton went in at half-time still in the match...

The second half was also going Everton's way until Cole scored off a wicked deflection that hit Watson and looped over Gerrard.  Apart from that fluke, Gerrard didn't have a save to make.  But Everton kept pressing, ruing the numerous chances they missed in the first half, as United did just enough to keep them at bay.  

A battling, spirited performance by Everton.  Walter Smith was "slightly aggrieved" at playing well and not getting anything out of the game.

So, to spice it up, we were force fed stories of astonishing military bravery in the face of appalling odds.  We were also told someone had to educate savage Johnny Foreigner, whether they liked it or not.   It was in their best interests, you see.  

You get the same kind of logic from a burglar who gets caught in the act, as eventually was the British Empire.  One of the stories we were told involved the battle of Rorke's Drift.  It was indeed a truly riveting story of incredible heroism, later filmed with reasonable accuracy in a movie called "Zulu" starring Michael Caine (his first major role) and Stanley Baker.  

The battle was fought by 350 men of the invading British Army.  They were heavily recruited from industrial Wales.  Surrounding them were 4,000 Zulus, a wing of the successful Zulu Army of 24,400 who had shortly before wiped out a British column of 1,800 at Isandhlwana.  Of course, we were never told about Isandhlwana; only Rorke's Drift.  Not surprising really, since the former is the only recorded military action in which a native army armed mostly with assegai and cowhide shields defeated an opponent armed with Martini-Henrys and Gatling guns.  There was great bravery on both sides but our teachers never told us this.  The victors almost always write the prevailing history.

We were told in spades about Rorke's Drift because the heroic 350 eventually beat off the Zulu attack against all the odds.  Zulu casualties were truly dreadful.  Try blindfolding yourself and walking out into the traffic in Lime Street at mid-day and you get an idea why...

So, on Saturday, we got into our ox-wagon and set off for Rorke's Drift.  We were the Thin Blue Line.  Only this time, the Zulus wore redcoats.  Your mouth went dry at the prospect.  But by god! we were going to go down fighting, whatever happened.  

In the ox-wagon we assembled and dissembled our Martini-Henrys to ensure rapid firing.  We checked our ammunition which had let us down so badly at Isandhlwana/Goodison Park earlier in the season.  We oiled every part.  And then we pulled into the watering hole known as the Nag's Head in the desert known as Davyhulme.  The natives were friendly and accommodating and helped us to part painlessly with a large portion of our saved shilling-a-day.  In exchange, we were provided with large quantities of anaesthetic, not unlike the gin the infantry was given before every major battle.  It helped a lot.  It usually does on occasions like this.

We discussed the oncoming battle.  I was reminded of a scene in the film where the two officers at Rorke's Drift – neither of whom had seen action before – discuss the Zulu battle strategy with a Boer tracker.  After he has finished, one of the officers says, "I say, that's jolly clever!" and the Boer summons all his remaining world weariness to say, "Oh it's jolly DEADLY, old boy."  We knew where it was coming from and who was going to be responsible.  Doing something about it was quite another matter.

As we neared Rorke's Drift, my historical compass began to spin.  The place looked like an isolated Coliseum.  Getting near it, and then into it, was similar to going through Check-Point Charlie and into East Berlin.  I made this observation to one of the local natives who promptly made a face like a smacked arse in response.  Most of the local natives were carrying bulging little red water skins with strange markings and spoke in a bewildering variety of tongues.

Our scouts reported that Rorke's Drift is still partly complete.  Two upper level tiers have not yet turned the corner.  Still room for snipers up there.  There is still no tier above the invading army section.

The Thin Blue Line took its position and immediately challenged the overwhelming numbers of Zulus with tribal chants of their own.  In the real thing, the Welsh soldiers actually sang battle hymns, but we have genuine difficulties with proper English, like, never mind Gaelic-with-a-throat-complaint.  The Zulus were strangely muted for the battle and made mostly muttering noises.  The Thin Blue Line made huge amounts of noise without resorting to our Martini-Henrys.

Our order of battle was depleted again, by god!  But we had a final defence line of Watson-Weir-Gough-Ball and Naysmith, backed up by Gerrard who had been hauled out of the field hospital when appropriately named Tommy fell, perhaps even dropped, in an earlier battle.  Our first line of defence dug in as Moore-Gemmill-Gravesen-Tal.  Our only attacking option was the enormously brave solo outpost of SuperKev.  Everyone had orders to use their initiative during the battle.  Everyone carried out their orders to the absolute letter.  It was indeed a sight to stir your blood to the last corpuscle.  By god! we showed Johnny Foreigner what we are made of!

The Zulu impi was short only on their left wing and in the centre.  Giggs was on the bench and Keane was cleaning the latrines.  Beckham moved to the centre of the battle.  Strange, but from the first shots we had the field by the goolies.  Precisely where we expected to have most casualties was precisely where we were winning the battle.  The loss of Keane was a major factor in holding the Zulu impi.  But every military manual tells you to fight with what you have or retreat.  The Zulu retreated and then kept retreating, a couple of Beckham free kicks apart... one of which zoomed past Paul's left stick like a bent howitzer shell.

The initial skirmishes ended and we began to create our own impudent raids.  Gradually at first, and then they became a flood.  We made pincer movements, flanking movements, overlapping movements, dug in hand-to-hand.  We had casualties but heroically plugged the gaps and incredibly kept going forward.  First military lesson: don't slow down under fire.  We had elan.  They had poor bloody infantry.  Men of Harlech, we heard you!  We learned your lessons well!

On the right flank, trooper Watson caused the same kind of mayhem he wrought against Boro.  Trooper Moore was the perfect foil and gave persistent murderous covering fire.  In the left centre, brave young Tal took no prisoners and left bodies sprawled everywhere.  Corporal Gravedigger, who won 't make sergeant as long as he has a hole in his arse, for once provided the kind of senior example we needed.  Trooper Gemmill made daring darting incursions which pissed off the Zulus mightily.

Early on, Tal gave the Zulus a major heart attack when he zapped Irwin and ran half the length of the field to hit the side net.  The front line of the battle was almost always in their half.  When it moved against us, The Thin Blue Line was again led by veteran Sergeant Gough, a man who should be awarded the Victoria Cross in every engagement.  There he was every time with a, "Steady you Blues, STEADY!" – and a better example of close-quarters warfare you never saw.

But if Gough was good – and he WAS – then the absolute pillar was an awesome corporal Ball.  He might even get promoted to Captain in one straight go at this rate.  It makes a difference when you have fighters around you.

Alas, The Thin Blue Line was breached at midpoint in the battle, and just as we were pressing the issue yet again.  A quick and scrambled counter-thrust through the middle ended up with a right-side penalty-area Cole shot which hit Stevie Watson, could have gone anywhere, but which seemingly inevitably spiralled slowly upwards and dropped in.  Paul's only action of the afternoon was to pick it out of the net.

We weren't through yet though – not by a long shot.  We kept going forward, even after they brought on Sheringham and Giggs – presumably in an attempt to stretch play a bit and keep Stevie quiet.  SuperKev thumped a header just wide and we kept raiding left and right.  Crosses kept homing in.  It was one occasion when you truly yearned for the Big Yin's scarred forehead.  You couldn't help feeling he wouldn't have missed.

With about 10 minutes left, we brought on Danny the Road Runner in place of a heroic Joe-Max Moore and, later, young Jevons for an equally heroic Idan Tal.  We didn't miss a beat.  We kept flowing forward and could have got something out of it right to the end.  It did much to restore battered morale after the horrors of the FA Cup "campaign."

You could tell this by the overwhelming noise from the Thin Blue Line off the field of battle and the rapidly emptying Zulu section of Rorke's Drift.

It was indeed a damned near run thing.  And you can be proud, really proud, of what our schizophrenic army achieved.

Two things: there was no multi-national corporation physically present at Rorke's Drift.  And why can't Mancs SMILE?

We held our own – we dominated at times.  The difference between the teams came in the second half with the introduction of Giggs.  His pace tore the defence apart every time he got the ball.

Best performance of the season?  I reckon it was.  If only we had a fit striker to partner Joe-Max Moore up front.  Even Gravesen had a decent game.  As for Watson and Tal – absolutely outstanding! – Alex Langley

I have to say that the level of commitment shown at Old Trafford was excellent, with a number of outstanding performances from individuals.  However, Keane, Gary Neville (whole) and Scholes, Giggs, and Sheringham (part) didn't play, and we still didn't manage to carve out anything but half-chances.  Mind you, our own injury problems we all know about, and Franny might have made a difference had he been fit.  

Nevertheless, Ball, Gough and Weir were excellent at the back, and the two full backs also played well.  Gemmill excelled in the middle, and Pepsi looks to be learning the position quite well (even if he still can't shoot).  Tal?  Walter Smith should NEVER start without this boy again.  End of. And throughout, the Blues' fans totally outsang 62,000 Man United fans. Well in. – Phil Pellow

Read Phil's match report on the Everton Pages at www.fromtheterraces.co.uk  
  

AS the FA Premier League’s marketing gurus continue to struggle in their search for a sponsor that reflects the true nature of their product, they could do worse than to seek the backing of Pro-Plus. Certainly, some kind of stimulant is required if the final three months of the season are to awaken the slightest interest in the casual observer.

Mathematically, Manchester United need another 22 points to guarantee their seventh championship in nine years, but the reality is that, in the absence of any credible challenger, they will probably have it won before Easter.

Despite Sir Alex Ferguson’s protestations, even the players, model professionals though they may be, were merely going through the motions.

This was as listless a performance as they have produced for a long time, yet, to the exasperation of anyone who finds one-horse races a little monotonous, they still won. It would be easy to attribute their lacklustre display to the fact that even great teams have off-days, but for the first time there genuinely appeared to be an apathy about United on Saturday. “Come to Old Trafford and get excited, eh?” Ferguson said.

Thank heavens, then, for Europe. The resumption of their Champions’ League campaign in Valencia in nine days cannot come quickly enough for United.  If the Premiership is considered humdrum, Europe still possesses a charm that will have all at Old Trafford rubbing their hands in excitement.

“Maybe I expected a wee bit more from them today,” Richard Gough, the Everton defender, said. “It was the same when I was at Rangers, where we were very similar domination-wise.

“I know from then that it must be hard for the likes of David Beckham and Ryan Giggs to motivate themselves against the smaller teams, which we are at the moment.  But no motivation will be required when they play Valencia and the other big teams in Europe.  That won’t be a problem.”  

Any criticism of United’s performance must be tempered by praise of Everton’s.  Walter Smith’s team defended resolutely and, even in the absence of several key players, showed enough enterprise in attack to have deserved one point, if not three.

The difference between the teams was luck.  Whereas a wayward shot from Andrew Cole — who has signed a new contract until 2005 — deflected in off the heel of Steve Watson in the 53rd minute, United’s only shot on target if it can be described as such, a similar effort moments later by Joe-Max Moore dropped inches wide via Jaap Stam’s boot.

“That’s what happens when you’re down in Everton’s position,” Ferguson said.

“We’re disappointed not to have got at least a point from the game, the way it turned out,” Smith, who is considering a move for Daniel Prodan, the Romania midfield player, said.  “When you lose to a deflected goal like that, that’s very disappointing.  I’ve seen it on TV and it didn’t even look like it was going in.”