'When the Seagulls...' Review: United vs CSKA

Following on from my ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner’ rant, and for the benefit of Chris and Nigel who continually reminded me of the effort us Southerner’s make to get to Manchester every home game, I endured the sort of journey that does nothing other than highlight a 'cockney-red's' loyalty and effort…even if does unavoidably question the rationality it all.

The day for us started with a horrendous 6 hour journey from London to Altrincham, where we had to get off and get the tram in to OT as the traffic going in was that bad. We made it – just. Missing about 30 seconds of the match. Yet as we were sat in the car, amongst the lucky hundreds to enjoy the wonderments and inefficiencies of the M6, I couldn’t help but feel that we were in for a slightly alternative night.


My pre-match blog arrogantly waved-off this game as routine and ‘formulaic’; highlighting the ease of the previous CL game in Moscow and how it wouldn’t matter in the slightest if we were without new-daddy Rooney, as we could happily kill CSKA off without him. Well, just as we experienced with our ridiculous journey, tonight we were in for a shock.

Rooney was around, yet he was restricted to a start on the bench (with Chelsea in mind), and Berbatov, who I didn’t realise at the time of writing yesterday was carrying a slight knock, wasn’t (so already, before kick-off, 2 of my predictions were completely wrong!). This gave an unrecognisable and largely inexperienced (in terms of playing together) feel to the strike-force, with Owen partnering Macheda. However again I thought that our strikers, as well Nani and Valencia on the wings to bolster our attack and Scholes and Fletcher adding a defensive, holding unit to our midfield, should suffice in seeing off this inferior side.

The one key, differentiating factor I mentioned about this CSKA side to the one we played in Russia was that Ramos had left as manager to be replaced with Slutsky. Yet again, I confidently neglected this as any sort of positive, strengthening factor to their team...well, clearly it was.

CSKA were unrecognisable to the side that failed to threaten us in the slightest 13 days ago. They attacked ambitiously and deservedly took the lead on 25 minutes with a powerful, and well-taken, shot by Dzagoev. It was ruled out by Owen’s effort 4 minutes later with a rather beautiful – although knowing him, probably completely accidental – assist by Nani. They then scored a second (offside..?) goal to shock us again only 2 minutes later. Like their first, it should have been dealt with comfortably, however instead it elucidated our common, worrying defensive fragilities this season.

Going into the second half at 1-2, I was still confident of a win and normal order to be resumed after a first half of surprises. However, bearing in mind the evening I had already had, further disbelief was in store.

CSKA scored a 3rd soft goal only a couple of minutes after the restart; an out-swinging free-kick that was nodded into Van der saar’s far post. No challenges or movement was made to prevent the leaping Berezutsky from meeting the ball, and so we found ourselves – in what surely should have been a standard win – 3-1 down at Old Trafford and in serious risk of losing our 22-game unbeaten European home record, as well as our comfortable entrance into the knock-out phase.

Although sufficient time was left to win, or at least draw the game, a stale performance continued and it felt as though the players hadn't realised the consequence of this performance and result until the 80th minute. Evra, Obertan and, inevitably, Rooney were introduced in order to give us more of an attacking threat, yet as mentioned, the impact of the changes were only really felt when time was dangerously ticking away. Evra, being Evra, was brilliant as he bombed forward and gave us a dimension on the left – something not quite there with Fabio in the first-half – and Obertan and Rooney also tried to penetrate their defence; however the resilient Russian’s refused to let us through, and so with 10 minutes remaining, we were glaring a shockingly disappointing result realistically in the face. The night of surprises however was not over, as on the 84th minute, the 5ft 7ins Paul Scholes – who had had a fairly unproductive night – headed in Gary Neville’s perfectly crossed free-kick. From that moment, although only minutes remaining, we knew we could get something from the game. You could feel it; as we put everything into our attack and deserved a result.

The comeback was superbly complete in the 3rd minute of injury time; as Valencia took a risky, yet required shot from distance that deflected heavily off Shchennikov and into unlucky Akinfeev’s net (who again had a decent game against us); marking another surprising, stressful, needlessly difficult and ludicrously enjoyable night at Old Trafford.

So when cynics (and non-understanding girlfriends) ask if the effort and wasted times stuck on motorways is worth it – to see another shock result, poor defensive display and incredible United comeback – I’ll tell them, look at the colour of my blood, then you'll find the answer… ! 6 hours on the M6? What effort??