TV VIEW:A massive gamble came unstuck at Old Trafford last night, writes MARY HANNIGAN
AN HOUR before kick-off, you’re quietly having your pre-match meal and whooooosh, BREAKING NEWS pops up on Sky. “David Cameron has cup of tea and current bun in Macclesfield”? No, it was almost enough to make you choke on your eggy soldiers: “Wayne Rooney will start for Manchester United tonight following ankle injury.”
Now, in fairness, Alex Ferguson had all but confirmed that Rooney would start when he said on Tuesday that there was “absolooly no chance” that he would, but still, we didn’t pick up on the subtle hint.
The RTÉ panel applauded Ferguson’s valour. Well, not really. “It smacks of desperation,” Ray Houghton told a gobsmacked Bill O’Herlihy. “There’s a lot of desperation there,” agreed Johnny Giles. “A massive gamble,” said Eamon Dunphy. Verdict: Desperate times, desperate measures.
But the surprises didn’t stop there. Darron Gibson? Gilesie just shook his head. “That’s pretty unbelievable,” said Dunphy.
Rafael? Gilesie was still shaking his head.
This was way too much negativity for Bill’s liking. “But isn’t that selection all about pace?” “Well then, put out a team of sprinters, Bill,” said Gilesie.
Time for some light relief over at Old Trafford where Tony O’Donoghue had bumped in to Mickey Thomas, United’s Duracell Bunny of 30 years ago, or so.
Mickey, incidentally, has had a lively post-football career, combining punditry work with a spell in jail for producing his own bank notes. “Wayne Rooney’s on a hundred grand a week,” he once said, “mind you, so was I until the police found my printing machine.”
Anyway, just time for a quick tribute to Barcelona and Lionel Messi for his reasonably effective display against Arsenal. “Is he greatest EVER?” asked an enraptured Bill. “No,” said Gilesie, “it’s too early to say that, he might prove to be. I’m not being harsh on you Bill, but it’s a silly question.” Gushing over.
Match time.
Darron Gibson? Pretty unbelievable.
Nani? Whooooosh.
Nani again. Nessi, they’ll have to rename the fella. When we said before that he was a waste of space what we really meant to say was, well . . .
Home and hosed.
Wait. 3-1. We thought it was all over, it bloody well wasn’t now.
Dunphy paid tribute to United’s first-half effort by noting that Bayern “weren’t really up for it all, they have three of the worst defenders you’ll see at this level”.
Gilesie agreed, also stopping some way short of revising his view of Nessi. “Good goals, Bill, but he still can’t play.”
A hobbling Rooney? “Is it madness keeping him on,” asked Bill. “It’s called all-in poker, putting all your chips on the table,” said Dunphy.
Second half and Ferguson’s chips were still limping up front. By now Fabio Capello was on his 96th Novena.
Over on ITV Jim Beglin had hardly finished paying tribute to Rafael for not letting “Ribery breathe” – “energy, I think it’s a youthful thing,” he sighed – when the baby Brazilian was banished from the field.
United seemed to have had their chips, not least when Rooney limped off to be replaced by John O’Shea, who hadn’t hoofed a ball in anger since Paris in November. Omens and eggy soldiers, never a good combination for your tummy.
Robben. 3-2. The clock speeded up, noticeably. Berbatov came on and harried and hassled and chased until he could gasp no more. Kidding. Game over, United out.
“We’ll never die, we’ll never die,” sang the Old Trafford faithful, their moving defiance prompting Dunphy to declare: “It’s over Bill, the fat lady’s finished.”
Bill was sad. “United had Bayern dead and buried,” he said.
Gilesie begged, once more, to differ. “They never dominated in a way that you could say this game was over,” he insisted.
“But they were 3-0 up,” said an unconvinced Bill, which, you have to say, was a reasonable observation.
Time, then, for the now annual United obituary. “If you were a United director, or whatever, what would you do now?” asked Bill. “I’d ask for a glass of whiskey and a pistol,” said Dunphy.
